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A Song of Ice and Fire: Storytelling as Worldbuilding

This post is part of a series which I hope to write in the relatively near future, documenting pieces of entertainment media which I currently view as significant influences on the way I view what makes a story good. Beyond simply serving as writing practice, the purpose of these is largely so that in future years I can look back and laugh at the things I thought were so important when I was in high school (or be shocked by my prognosticative powers, I suppose, though that seems less likely). I'm putting the series here for the moment because it fits in fairly well with some of the media blog posts I did for Mr. Starace and doing so reduces the number of places I'll need to look to find my past writings in the future. Anyway, on to A Song of Ice and Fire (which [just in case someone else is reading this] is the low-magic fantasy epic by George R. R. Martin which was adapted into the HBO show Game of Thrones.)

The primary reason why A Song of Ice and Fire (which I will henceforth refer to as ASoIaF) is probably my favorite series of books ever is this: it doesn't feel like a story. This might seem like a negative statement about what is, after all, a story, but in my eyes it is the highest praise. When you've watched/played/read/heard enough stories (and thought about them critically) it becomes apparent that the stories humans tell each other are all dreadfully similar in a manner that in no way reflects how the real world actually works. Once you understand this, immersing yourself in a story becomes difficult. You're always recognizing the commonalities it has with other stories (and thus reminding yourself that it is just a story, invented by another person) rather than actually feeling the dread or exultation or surprise that the story is supposed to evoke.

But ASoIaF manages to avoid this pitfall. Reading it feels not like being told a made-up story by another person who inhabits your same world, but peering into the workings of another world, operating on rules different from our own but still internally consistent.  First of all, the land in which it takes place is impressively detailed. The vast majority of the story takes place on the continent to the far left of the map below, but Martin still took the time to create a sprawling setting to provide contexts to the events occurring in Westeros. This philosophy also extends to the dimension of time, where Martin has a long, detailed history to explain how the status quo at the series' beginning arose. Combined, these two factors create the sense that what is described in the book is but one small part of a huge, complex world where other sagas of equal drama have happened in the past and are probably going on at the same time somewhere off to the east.


Beyond ASoIaF's setting, its characters are a vital contributor to the feeling that it isn't a story. They're all believable and nuanced, of course, but that's just good writing. More pertinent to my point is that each book in the series has as many as a dozen different point of view characters. These characters are sometimes thousands of miles apart, their narratives splitting and reconnecting and influencing each other in unexpected ways. Most stories are merely about one person or small group on one specific journey, typically with a single clear protagonist. ASoIaF, on the other hand, is about a myriad of starkly distinct characters who all have significant importance to the overall plot but are each the hero of their own smaller story. Just as in real-world history, the course of events is decided by a chaotic interplay of different narratives, not one grand quest to save the world.

Finally, the plot of ASoIaF never feels like a predictable slog through the Hero's Journey or any other existing narrative template. It manages to be simultaneoulsy completely unrestricted by traditional story structure and entirely in line with real human social dynamics. It is consistently surprising but always plausible. A perfect example of this is how freely Martin employs character death. In most fiction, a narrative shield protects the protagonists from any truly painful defeats, but ASoIaF's characters, however important, have no such plot armor. The logical consequences of character decisions are always explored to the fullest extent, even when doing so results in the death of popular, likable characters. In short, ASoIaF is the kind of story which would be totally believable in a history book (minus the dragons and such) while still exciting and enjoyable to read as fiction.

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