The Winds of Winter by George R.R. Martin
I’m breaking up with you, George.
I fell in love with the ASOIAF series with the very first book. I happily reread all of the preceding books over again before cracking the spine on each new one. I freaking loved them. I loved you, George. The first four books in the series are some of the best fantasy I’ve ever read.
A Dance With Dragons, not so much. The only really amazing thing about A Dance With Dragons was that it could somehow manage to be 1000 +/- goddamn pages of pretty much nothing happening. After waiting six freaking years for it, I was mightily disappointed. Still, I was loyal. I put it down to Middle of the Series Slump Syndrome and went back to waiting. But I just read that, once again, this year will not see The Winds of Winter. Seven years and counting.
Stephen King did this to me too, way back when with The Dark Tower series. Five years after the third one, with no fourth one in sight, I gave up and gave my copies away and actively ignored the series. I’d see a new one in the bookstore and go, nope. Not going there. You’re not going to win me back only to let me down again, Steve. Then finally, six or seven years ago, I found the entire series used online, for about twenty bucks including shipping, and I happily lost myself in them, beginning to end. It was better than munching my way dreamily through an entire bag of Milanos, and that’s saying something.
And now ASOIAF. I look forward to reading the entire completed series the same way I look forward to vacationing on the Moon, like something that might be possible in my lifetime but by the time it is, I’ll be too old and decrepit to actually do it. I have shelved this as “the movie was better” not only because the HBO series has been shockingly well done, but because it will actually be finished.
Seven years and counting. And there are supposed to be at least two more books after that? When, in 2057? I’m done, George. I’m happy to clear the shelf space for other books that don’t annoy me each time they catch my eye. Pack up your shit and get out.
It’s not me. It’s you. Bye.
Bookshelves: the-movie-was-better, fantasy, the-shit, i-can-dream-can’t-i
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