OK I GET IT IT DRIPPED DOWN YOUR CHIN.
I haven’t been neglecting this blog. The lack of updates might make you think so, but it’s not true. I also haven’t been neglecting to read. How is this possible, you are not asking yourself at all, that I read and yet don’t update and yet, have been updating regularly?
It’s because I’m reading The Song of Ice and Fire and Dragons and Wolves and Stuff series and after the end of the first book realized I couldn’t really post a review of it that wasn’t either simply the words “ZOMG! WTFBBQ!” (which ok, not actually words.) or a massive barrage of spoilers. So, I figured I’d finish the whole series and then write one review that would hopefully contain more than “And then that thing that I can’t talk about… but will allude to… but not actually say…” This series, in case you didn’t know, is five books long. Each book is assthousand pages. Give or take.
So, here I am. In the midst of book 3. Nothing but dragons on either side of me. And I’d really like a break. See, I don’t usually read fantasy. And it’s starting to grate on me. Not the dragons. Or the wolves. Or the giants. Or the alchemists. It’s the g-ddamn feudal society porn.
See, what I do read a lot of is historical fiction. I have an especial weakness for the Tudor period and will read just about anything if Anne Boleyn is slated to once again lose her head. So, I’m all too familiar with the clichés that keep sprouting up to remind us that LIFE WAS DIFFERENT, OK. I know that the author wants to remind us that no one was wearing jeans back in Tudor England, but it doesn’t feel sincere to have someone whining about her stomacher being laced up for the thousandth time. OK THEY WEAR STOMACHERS GREAT. The irony here though is that in Tudor England, a stomacher was as common as jeans are here and no one would be going ON about it for PAGES because it would just be “AND THEN I GOT DRESSED.”
I might have some unchecked aggression in Phillipa Gregory’s general direction.
Anyhow. The Ice the Fire the Swords the Blahblahblah.
If this is FANTASY, why is this necessary to adopt the whole medieval/early modern knights and Lords business? And ok, if we have to have that power structure for whatever reason, can we at least get new clichés? If have to read one more time about someone eating meat on a stick and the “juices dripped down his chin” I’m going to lose it. WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE PASS TYRION LANNISTER A FUCKING TACO, OK.
(See also: the phrase “he took his pleasure.” I’m sure he did. But let’s get new euphemisms. That one’s not really creative, sounds rape-y, and makes me sad in my angry place.)
The characters are brilliant. The plot keeps me up way later than my bedtime because George R.R. Martin is an evil genius in the art of the end-of-chapter-cliffhanger. BUT THE JUICES MUST BE STOPPED.
Please kindly recommend anything to me that does not discuss meat & mead, the milk of the poppy, juices dripping down any part of anyone’s person, or anyone’s finest cloaks. Thankyou.