There's an old saying our generation has acquired: "READ THE BOOK FIRST". So it has been with countless film and television adaptations: if you want the full experience, read it first. There are only a few exceptions to the rule; Lord of the Rings, for example, arguably works well as a book series and a film series.
So, if you're not rich enough to own an HBO subscription, you had until now a reasonable excuse for not reading their most recently adapted fantasy book, A Game of Thrones. But the months have passed, people! The DVD will come soon! Read it now, before it's too late!
Admittedly, this was my second attempt. I had a few weeks to read the opening couple hundred pages last winter, before the library recalled my copy. So I was familiar with the premise, at least. Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell is summoned to replace the King's chief advisor, and must bring himself and his whole family south to accept the duty. But the land of the Seven Realms is full of major houses that want to take control, and soon the game of thrones becomes deadly - and, for Lord Eddard Stark, more personal, as the safety of his own house and family are threatened.
Each chapter is delivered from the limited third-person point-of-view of a different character. Oh, but there are so many characters. Eight points of view are presented over the course of the novel, plus that of one prologue character. And the non-POV characters are so numerous that a sizeable appendix doesn't even contain them all. I tried diligently to keep track of everyone on a second read-through of the opening, but came to the same conclusion that I did with the faceless goons in V for Vendetta. Names do not give way to personalities: the important thing is that the figures are there.
The names mean even less when you understand that not even the major characters always deserve or want their titles. Lord Eddard Stark resists his position as the king's advisor, and outsiders such as a dwarf and Stark's bastard son are given demeaning nicknames. Names are given, but not earned.
No, the important thing is to trust the power of the narrative, which is strong enough to overcome the repetitive names. As long as you can keep the main family straight, you're golden. Each episode is self-contained, a mini-story in its own right, with a vaguely two-scene structure. The book's episodic nature makes it well-suited for television, as is its tendency to keep storylines hanging for upwards of a hundred pages before that particular section of the narrative resumes, thanks to the large number of character POVs.
(I found some of the characters' literary ancestors interesting, especially where their names were similar. Arya, Eddard Stark's youngest daughter, has the rule-breaking and independence of Philip Pullman's Lyra of Northern Lights; Sansa's troubling disconnect with her siblings is reminiscent of Susan of The Chronicles of Narnia. Arya is more fun to read, but Sansa is taken in new directions from Susan.)
The episodes lull the reader into a sense of security, particularly in the middle section; startling developments come primarily in the first and final acts. This can make the book monotonous, but the prose never is. Florid descriptions are kept brief, cut short by long, more interesting dialogue sections. Talkiness is another thing that would translate well to the small screen.
There is the problem of the book's incomplete nature. This is thanks to the fact that A Game of Thrones is the first part of a first part of a trilogy; this section of the story doesn't wrap until book three. However, unlike most tales where I balk at the idea of waiting until another book to see the conclusion, here I wasn't unsatisfied. The promise at the beginning of the story is only that "winter is coming", and by the end of the book, George R.R. Martin delivers. A few character arcs are completed, but most are only begun, and this feels right at the chaotic situation of the book's finale. I will not read part two for some time, but I am left hanging happily.
Perhaps it's unfair that I'm constantly considering this book's adaptability; after all, we're in the novel world now, and we play by Martin's rules. But his rules are decidedly visual in nature. Martin spent several years working on filmed projects such as The New Twilight Zone and Beauty of the Beast, and his experience there slips through. And anyone that doesn't play by the rules, as A Game of Thrones teaches, is a failure.
Which is a decidedly bleak way to look at life - it's the negative Stephen King message I missed from Carrie - but for the purposes of this novel, a deliciously off-kilter one, and a satisfying conclusion to a story that, while well-told, is a bit long. A Game of Thrones, based loosely off of the Rose Wars of England and showing just as much intrigue, delivers a good fantasy book because it does not pretend to be fantasy; the fantastic elements are considered as myth, and the story could be a historical fiction. Characters, visuals, and various points of inspiration all combine to make a very good experience - especially the characters. It will be good to see them portrayed on screen.
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