I intend to put together a much longer gloat regarding the much-noted failure of Game of Thrones to achieve a satisfying ending, but we live in a world of #hottakes, so I wanted to offer my own:
No one said I wasn’t gracious in victory.
At the risk of shameless self-promotion I will note that not quite two years ago I wrote the following:
That’s the risk Martin runs. He came up with a nice metaphor (“a game of thrones”) and a good tagline (“winter is coming”) but everything else could be swept away in a spasm of fan outrage and a giant literary shrug.
Of course, I still imagined that George R.R.R.R. Martin was going to be the one writing the ending for Game of Thrones. Instead he outsourced it to HBO hirelings on their way out the door to do for Star Wars what they did for the fantasy epic.
I’ve not followed the story closely, instead contenting myself with the weekly summaries in the New York Post. This, plus my family’s fanatical devotion to the tale has kept me as involved as I care to be. I first scented vindication when the blonde chick went into full “Burn it down” mode and my wife was beside herself with anger.
I actually watched that episode and found it (no doubt unintentionally) hilarious. There was something sublime about watching both a city and a detailed story line go up in smoke at the same instant.
I also would be remiss if I did not give a huge shout-out to my fellow Bleeding Fools Kat Rocha and J.Ishiro Finney, who have put together a far more devastating takedown of Game of Thrones than I could ever produce.
It’s NSFW and don’t try to drink anything while watching.