I just finished the exhausting experience that is George R.R. Martin’s A Dance with Dragons, the fifth volume of his gigantic epic, A Song of Ice and Fire. I enjoyed it; the time I spent listening to the book was the best part of many recent mid-winter days. In places it sent my imagination soaring. But at the end I find myself more annoyed and frustrated than pleased.
of Ice and Fire
is not like other books. Reading any volume of this monstrous epic is
like climbing Mount Everest,
weeks of grueling
effort enlivened by glimpses of wonder and the odd shooting pain. Or
of those World Cup soccer matches that goes on for 89 minutes of
scoreless play, your tension and frustration growing with each passing
until at the end the other team scores and you fall into mourning over
side’s loss. . . .
This a long review, and the rest is here. I tried to keep it free of spoilers, but it will give you a vague idea of how the story unfolds over the first five books.