The Unremitting Torture That is Game of Thrones

I’m one of those people. I’ve read all the books. I kept my mouth shut during the last season while everyone on Facebook was expressing hope that the Starks would somehow outwit the Lannisters. I still know things that the TV-only crowd doesn’t know (Lannisters always pays their debts).

Since I don’t have HBO, I’m actually pretty far behind on the show. I decided to buy the first season, which I have seen, and review it, then buy the second season. I’ve gotten as far as Ned Stark’s arrest at the end of episode eight, and I don’t want to watch anymore.

I don’t want to see Sansa flutter about in pre-Stockholm Syndrome. I don’t want to watch Arya start her Endless Escape. I don’t want to watch Joffrey ask for the head. I don’t want to read Arya having to be stopped by the Hound from rushing into the Red Wedding. Not until I know how it ends.

I haven’t been able to read any of the first three books for this reason. Maybe some of the Tyrion and Daenerys chapters. I’ve been sticking with Feast for Crows and Dance of Dragons, looking for signs of what’s coming (Daenerys, please please please unleash the dragons. It’s who you are. It cannot be stopped).

Until this series is finished, revisiting the many defeats that the patient merit of the unworthy claim is a bit much for me.


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