Book Review - Something Wicked This Way Comes (Ray Bradbury)

Something Wicked This Way Comes is a book that should definitely not be judged by its cover. The blurb reads like this is going to be a typical horror story with one of the oldest archetypes there is – a cosy town invaded by a creepy carnival. However, the story is a more of a slow-burner and deals more with the theme of ageing and to an extent, the nature of evil. It focuses on two teenage best friends, Will and Jim, and Jim's middle-aged father, as they try to defeat the sinister inhabitants of the carnival.

However, despite the story's grand intentions, I lost interest in this story very quickly. One of its two fatal flaws is the scant characterisation. We spend a lot of time with Will and Jim, but we don't find out very much about them. The story sets up a dichotomy between them where Will is portrayed as the “good” boy while Jim is the “bad” (or at least, corruptible) boy. Will has white hair, Jim has dark. Will has a bright, outgoing personality while Jim is sullen and reserved. Will is born a minute before October 31^st, while Jim was born a minute into it. We find out early on that Jim is more sexually curious than Will, when Jim is fascinated by a naked orgy he sees through a living room window, while Will is repulsed by it. This foreshadows Jim's seduction by the carnival.

All these attempts at a good/evil contrast fall flat however, because the story doesn't show us much of who these boys are. They come across more as a manifestation of two ideals, instead of people in their own right. I didn't get much of a sense of friendship between the two of them. Aside from the orgy reference, we're not told much about their past experiences. The only other characters they're shown to have a relationship with are Will's father (who I'll get to) and their teacher, Miss Foley, who only seems to exist to be a victim. Because of this, the world of the story doesn't feel that developed, nor do Will and Jim come across as fully-developed characters because the lack of context doesn't give the story much to explore about them. When Jim falls under the carnival's spell, I couldn't bring myself to care because the story hadn't developed him enough beforehand. When Will and his father are bonding, I didn't care either because neither of them felt developed either. The book is just under 300 pages long, but the apathy from these one-dimensional characters made it a real struggle to get through.

The other huge flaw in the story (and this one put me off very quickly) was the extravagance of the prose. There are a number of points where the story grinds to a halt so Bradbury can show off his elegant turn of phrase, which got irritating very quickly as I felt I was being preached to. The story was being told to me (in a pretentious, overbearing style) instead of letting me explore it for myself. This goes back to the portrayal of the characters. Jim is meant to be a troublesome boy. Will's father, Charles, is meant to be an old man regretting that he hasn't done more with his life. I know this because the story keeps telling me rather than just let the characters' actions speak for themselves.

The sheer volume of purple prose also jarred me out of the story at several points. For instance, here are Will's thoughts as he struggles to keep up with Jim as they sprint towards the carnival:

Boy it's the same old thing. I talk. Jim runs. I tilt stones, Jim grabs the cold junk under the stones and – lickety split! ... I sit on a rock in the sun and old Jim, he prickles his arm-hairs by moonlight and dances with hoptoads. I tend cows. Jim tames Gila monsters. Fool! I yell at Jim. Coward! he yells back. (Pg. 48)

That doesn't sound like a thirteen-year-old boy to me. That sounds like a grown man thinking back to being thirteen. Bradbury spends far too much time constructing his prose that he fails to make the story immersive or engaging. The text feels more like an elaborate artifice instead of a story.

It becomes absolutely ridiculous by the time the boys go Charles for help. Charles works in the local library and has done a bit of research on the carnival (as much as there is). Instead of something useful, Charles merely tells the boys what we've already figured out for ourselves: the carnival captures people by preying on their inner desires. We know this because we've already seen a travelling salesman seduced by a beautiful woman, and Miss Foley captured by the prospect of becoming young again. And we also have Jim's desire to become a man which compels him to ride the cursed merry-go-round.

When he's not stating the obvious, Charles starts to ramble about cavemen and the agelessness of evil and a lot of other things I've forgotten about because this part of the book is just padding. It's not that I don't want a story about these things, but the story has to be about them. Here it just feels tacked on with no real connection with anything that happens in the story.

Charles goes through a brief character arc himself. He also wants to become young so he can spend more time with his son; it's implied that he and Will have a distant relationship, but again, only implied. By the end however, he sees that carnival is just the manifestation of evil and must be destroyed. He also realises that the carnival's weakness is laughter, and it's by laughing that he and Will finally destroy it.

There are a number of things wrong with this, the most obvious being that a carnival that's destroyed by laughter makes no sense whatsoever. For goodness sake, the story shows us people laughing at the carnival so how come laughing destroys it at the end? Secondly, Charles tells Will to laugh after Jim has apparently been killed by the merry-go-round. Charles reasons that the carnival draws its strength from grief, and by weeping, Will is only making its evil stronger. He urges Will to laugh even though he doesn't want to, which Will finally does, and their joy is enough to bring Jim back to life.

Never mind that saving the day with “happy feelings” is one of the most trite endings there is, the story seems to be saying that fake laughter is just as important as real laughter. Because Will acts like he's happy, it somehow makes him happy and he forgets that his friend has apparently just died. This completely ignores the way emotions really work, in that very often what we see is not how a person feels. A person could be putting on a show of happiness because they're afraid to talk about their depression. A person could appear melancholy because they're naturally introverted and don't show off their feelings. It doesn't matter in the least whether Will is laughing or crying – that doesn't change how he would feel about the situation, so all the laughing and singing and dancing and tooth-rotting syrup of the story's climax shouldn't make the least bit of difference.

I know this makes me feel like some bitter old fart, but really, it's hard to feel positive about a story this bad. I had high hopes for this story. The setup seemed interesting and Bradbury is one of the most respected authors of the 21^st century. The only other work of his that I've read is his short story “The Crowd”, which I remember enjoying very much, so I wasn't biased against the story before going in to it. I just wasn't expecting something this poorly executed.

I'd like to read a good horror story about an evil carnival. I'd like to read a story about the awkward transition from childhood to adolescence. I'd like to read a story about someone who regrets their life choices and wishes for another chance. Something Evil This Way Comes is none of those. I'd ask for a refund.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E06) "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken"

(This review contains spoilers from episode 6 and A Dance of Dragons)

This week's episode of Game of Thrones takes its title from the words of House Martell. Which is odd, given that House Martell do very little here. In fact, the Martells have done very little this season. With all the hype surrounding Oberyn and his shocking death last year, I would have thought the Sand Snakes' plan for revenge would have been a major force behind this season, to draw in as many viewers as possible.

I said previously that the Sand Snakes made little impression on me in the books, and it's very much the case here. I only remember one of their names, we haven't seen enough of them to give them any distinctive personalities, and at this stage I coudn't even tell them apart. Prince Doran has also been given the short end of the stick here. The waste of Alexander Siddig is absolutely shameful. We've only had two scenes with him so far, and his ideological clash with Ellaria has only been briefly alluded to. I imagine the people that haven't read A Feast for Crows don't give a shit about this guy who seems to sit around doing nothing. Given Doran's duplicitousness makes him the most fascinating character of this subplot, that's practically criminal neglect on part of the show.

On the whole, Dorne has been very underdeveloped this season. It's the sad reality of adapting a story to a new medium – the books don't have to worry about budgets or shooting schedules or paying multiple actors or fitting the story into a ten-hour structure per year. I'm sure this is why the Greyjoy and Riverlands subplots have also been completely excised. At this stage, Jaime and Bronn are just enough to keep me invested, but I certainly hope to see more effort in the coming weeks.

I was glad to see the return of Diana Rigg, once again playing Olenna Tyrrell. It was also interesting to watch her sharp exchange with Cersei, and Cersei's apparent victory over the Tyrrells at the trial. What's interesting about this portion of the episode is the way Cersei is presented to the viewer – she comes across as a terrifying leader on par with Olenna or even her own father in terms of ruthlessness and cunning. She appears to have crushed the Tyrrells by convicting both Ser Loras and the queen herself of sins against the Seven. She also orders a mission to Winterfell to execute Sansa and mop up the North once the Boltons and Baratheons have wiped each other out.

Of course, it's clear that all Cersei is doing is dragging House Lannister further and further down. Not only does she swallow Littlefinger's story hook line and sinker, but she also causes a division with the Tyrrells at a time when the Lannisters need allies more than ever. There's Stannis in the North, a potentially rebellious North who could ally with him, and a Targeryen to the east who plans to marry into one of Meereen's oldest families. The episode never makes it explicit that Cersei's plans are heading for ruin, and in this way the episode reflects Cersei's own delusionment and vanity.

I was a little puzzled by Loras' interrogation, where they bring in his lover Olyvar, who reveals not only that they slept with each other repeatedly, but that Margaery was well aware of it. Olyvar confesses all this very openly, the implication being that the Faith have bribed him. What makes it odd is that Oliver is also confessing his own homosexuality. What's to stop the Faith from betraying him once he's served his purpose? It would have made more sense if Olyvar had been beaten and tortured to coerce him into confessing. Perhaps it was done to feed into the general backstabbing nature of the show, but it still comes across as odd.

Speaking of backstabbing, Littlefinger reveals his real plan (as opposed to all his other real plans so far) to become Warden of the North, by presumably betraying Sansa and handing her over to Cersei. Honestly, I have no clue what this guy's endgame is and I'm starting to think even he doesn't even know. At this stage, I'm not sure Littlefinger is out for power as such; I think it's more that he wants to show those pompus highborns how weak their system is by ruthlessly exploiting it. His vying to become Warden of North is certainly as much about delivering yet another posthumous “screw you” to Ned, as it is a strategic gambit. I don't even think Littlefinger honestly cares about ruling the Seven Kingdoms. He probably just wants to seize the Iron Throne for the sake of seizing it, not holding on to it.

One change from the books that I think does help is the expanded relationship between Tyrion and Ser Jorah. As I said before, the two are very similar and this episode expands on that as the two discuss the future if Daenerys becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jorah going from a cynic to an idealist raises the possibility that Tyrion could go the same way. Then again, Tyrion's fortunes get considerably worse in this episode, so that's really no guarantee of any transformation.

Tyrion also raises a very interesting question: How good would Daenerys really be for Westeros? Daenerys may have grand ambitions, but her conquest of Meereen isn't going as well as she'd hoped – what's to say that Westeros won't rebel against her in the same way? 

In Braavos, Arya's plot finally shows some progression when Jaqen H'gar decides to send her out in disguise to carry out the Faceless Mens' duties. I admit this plotline hasn't really grabbed me so far, as it hasn't consisted of much beyond Arya cleaning floors and corpses, with the occasional cryptic remark from Jaqen or the other serving girl. This week we see Arya continuing to lie about her identity, claiming to a sick girl that her own father brought her to the House of Black and White to find a cure for her. It was a great moment because even though the story itself was a lie, it was built on a certain truth: Ned Stark really did love his children and would certainly have done anything to protect them from harm. It's nice to get moments like this and the earlier one with Needle to show that Arya still has connections with home, despite her constant claims to be “No one”.

Another nice touch was the mention of Sandor Clegane and the revelation that Arya didn't actually hate him. However that doesn't explain why she left him to die in the mountains instead of putting him out of his misery. That's one thing that definitely needs to be addressed, as it leaves this particular character moment feeling more confusing than illuminating.

Of course, the most talked-about portion of the episode is Sansa's marriage to Ramsay. The depiction of the ceremony itself surprised me. You would expect it to be a grim, bleak affair, but instead it's conducted in the godswood with lanterns to give it an almost fairytale vibe. The cruel irony is this is probably how Sansa imagined her dream wedding – it's even happening in her own home. We also see Sansa's harder side when she coldly dismissed Myranda's attempts to frighten her, making for one of the most satisfying scenes I've yet seen this season. But ultimately, all this is undermined by what happens after the wedding, where Ramsay rapes Sansa while forcing Theon to watch.

Sophie Turner said this scene would be controversial, and it certainly seems to have had that effect. There has already been talk of fans quitting the show after what they see as tasteless exploitation of a harrowing issue all for the sake of shock value. Honestly though, while the scene is disturbing, I don't see how this is the moment where people quit the show, when the show has arguably done far worse in the past.

I know Game of Thrones has been problematic in the past with its depiction of women. The show leans very heavily on the male gaze, happily showing breasts and vaginas but so far, not a single penis. And of course there is Jaime's rape of Cersei, which was a huge insult to the character and went against everything we've been led to understand about him. While Jaime would happily murder a child to keep his dirty little secret, it's been made clear that he would never sexually violate a woman. Jaime may not be a good guy, but at least he has a set of morals, which last year's episode trampled all over.

But by contrast, raping his bride is exactly the sort of thing you'd expect from Ramsay Bolton. The scene was disturbing, but it was completely within the spirit of the source material. Hell, the show's version is actually more tasteful than the book's. At least here, Ramsay doesn't force Theon to join in. I was surprised by that omission, given how much Ramsay has enjoyed rubbing Theon's betrayal in Sansa' face. I get the feeling that the backlash from Jaime's rape of Cersei played a factor here. Perhaps D&D felt wary about having another (sort of) sympathetic character rape someone, and they left it out because the scene is unpleasant enough without it.

I'm sure there are people who feel the use of rape was just as exploitative in the book, and that perhaps D&D would have been wiser to cut the whole thing. And maybe they would have. It's not as if we didn't already know Ramsay is an evil shitheel. Then again, Sansa being wed to Ramsay is an important plotpoint, and you couldn't imagine Ramsay to be gentle in the bedroom. Even if Sansa never made a sound, Ramsay would probably beat her viciously just to make her suffer for his pleasure. The scene was definitely unpleasant, but I don't see how the show could have avoided it. If other people feel they can't watch anymore, that's their business, but I just don't see how this scene is worse than some of the other horrific content we've seen from this series.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E05) "Kill the Boy"

(This review contains spoilers from episode 5)

This week's Game of Thrones builds on last week's as more plotlines hurtle towards one another. The big one is Stannis beginning his march on Winterfell for his confrontation with the Boltons. Of all the contenders for the Iron Throne, Stannis is probably the one I'd be most inclined to root for. That's not say I root for him entirely – he does after all burn people alive for their religion, which is not cool to say the least. But there's no other person I'd rather see punish the Boltons. Not only does Stannis have more principles, he's also a hardened veteran who can hold his own in a fight. We've yet to see Roose or his bastard kill an armed man or woman, and Roose's favourite strategy seems to be attaching himself to more accomplished generals like Robb Stark or Tywin Lannister.

Of course, you should never take anything for granted in Game of Thrones. Maybe Stannis' army will be slowed down by the coming winter, which could leave them hungry and exhausted. The toll could cause them to lose men and leave them unfit for a siege. There is of course Lady Melisandre, who could send another shadow demon into Winterfell to take out the Boltons. But that seems a little too obvious a solution. And it certainly wouldn't be as satisfying as the Boltons meeting their fate at the hands of humans.

Another possibility is that the Northern peasantry will rise up to avenge the Starks. Brienne's little moment with the Northerner at the inn certainly seems to suggest a coming revolution. It would reflect the Sparrows' revolt against the nobility of King's Landing.

A character I'm particularly attached to is Davos Seaworth (Liam Cunningham). Like Brienne, he's managed to survive without having to sacrifice his humanity. We all know Davos is utterly loyal to his king – maybe he'll die defending him. I'd hate to see it happen, but once again, you can't take anything for granted on this show. His little bonding session with Shireen may be a cause for concern. It could be the show's way of humanising him one last time before killing him off.

We also see Jon struggling to make peace with the wildlings so the Watch will have a sufficient army when the White Walkers come. His parlay with Tormund Giantsbane (Kristofer Hivju) gives the two actors a chance to shine. Hivju's restrained performance is a marked contrast with his chest-thumping warrior from last season's battle, and it shows a considerable development in his relationship with Jon as he's now willing to hear him out instead of killing every Crow he sees. Jon calling Tormund's bluff is another great moment, when he takes off Tormund's shackles after calling him a coward. This, and his execution of Janos Slynt, are clear signs that Jon has “killed the boy”.

Another huge change is Jon's relationship with the men. While before, Jon had a considerable following, now he's being questioned by his friends and even his own squire. It's nice to see the show acknowledge Olly's trauma after the wildlings destroyed his family. Giving the smallfolk a voice gives the world of the show a much richer feel, instead of focusing on the nobility all the time.

In Winterfell, Sansa struggles to make sense of her world which has now been invaded by the Boltons. Her visit to the tower where Bran was pushed was a nice touch. It gives a sense of the story beginning to come full circle, and hints that plot threads from long ago are going to come back into play. This is reinforced by her reunion with Theon, who's been forced to sleep in the kennels. Turner's expression in this scene is sublime – there was shock, pity and fury all at the same time. I actually felt like she was going to attack Theon in a fit of rage.

We also get more time with Ramsay – which is always a delight, I'm sure. We get more gratuitous nudity (isn't Winterfell meant to be, y'know, cold?) and we see that Ramsay's despotism is causing friction with his current paramore. Ramsay also abandons his earlier act of chivalry and parades “Reek” in front of Sansa, and even vowing to let him give her away at their wedding. I don't know about Roose, but I definitely feel like Ramsay is not long for this world. Viserys, Robert and Joffrey all met their ends because their vanity eclipsed their good sense. It would certainly be satisfying to see Ramsay be the victim of his own Red Wedding, although I do sort of miss the more calculating Ramsay from last year. His capture of Moat Cailinn with a brainwashed Theon shows that Ramsay is more than just a mere sadist, but now it seems his power is beginning to go to his head. Even his father is starting to give him a cold(er) look. Roose promises never to abandon his son – I'm sure he promised Robb the same thing.

Also, Theon apologizing to Sansa. Jesus Christ that guy needs a hug.

Across the Narrow Sea, Jorah Mormont sails down Valyria-way. Finally Tyrion is given more to do than mope all the time – not that he doesn't have reason to, but still ...

The voyage through Valyria, with its dead silence and foggy passes, is definitely one of the most visually gorgeous scenes the show has ever done. It's great to finally see the place where that famous steel comes from. Tyrion and Jorah's joint recital is not only a beautiful bit of worldbuilding (I can't remember if that poem was from the books or made up for the show) but it's a wonderful character moment for both of them. They're certainly not buddies, but they've both been beaten down by the world and are struggling to find some meaning in life.

The Valyrian sequence is dominated on multiple levels by the theme of decay. We have the exiled knight and the fugitive genius. We have the tumbledown city. We have the Stone Men, driven mad by their disease (and if not for Stannis, Shireen would have been one of them). Everything on screen is a shadow of its former glory, stripped of humanity or glory.

But sailing over it all is a black dragon, a creature thought to be extinct, ignoring the ruins below. Tyrion's reaction to it is hugely significant. His hard stare is a reminder of the old Tyrion, who tried to be the best he could be despite the contempt of everyone around him. It hints a resurrection of Tyrion's old determination, just as the dragons have returned despite everyone's disbelief.

I feel this could be the most important moment of the whole season – the moment where Tyrion Lannister realises there is something in this world worth fighting for.

Book Review - Foundation (Isaac Asimov)

Foundation is the first Asimov novel I've ever read, though it's not a novel as such, but more like a series of vignettes with a central theme tying them all together. It spans 155 years of history, chronicling the collapse of a future human empire and the fallout from it. Its characters are civilizations, not individuals. It has quite a large scope for a book less than 250 pages long.

The catalyst of this saga is Hari Seldon, a psychohistorian (the best way to describe it is a cross between a sociologist and an oracle) who studies the sociological patterns of the Empire's history and predicts that the Galactic Empire – which his contemporaries say is indestructible – will crumble in about five hundred years. Seldon persuades the authorities to let him gather a team of experts on the planet Terminus on the fringes of the Empire. Officially, their task is to create an Encyclopedia for the Empire, but Seldon's real aim is to form a new society known as Foundation, which will fill the vaccuum left by the Empire, and build a better, stronger one in its place.

For a book so critical of organized religion, Foundation's portrayal of Seldon has clear religious parallels, in the way he lingers over the text long after his death. In life, Seldon resembles a prophet, predicting the end of civilization and meeting with distrust from the powers that be. After death, he's elevated almost to the point of godhood. Seldon lives on in the actions of his successors, who see their every move as part of his intricate plan.

This is a part of the book I found a little hard to swallow, and I imagine others would as well. The big question is of course: How the hell can Seldon predict what will happen centuries from now? He admits that he can't predict individual actions, but asserts that he can predict the actions of whole societies. How Seldon can be so sure of something that will happen centuries in the future is never explained, and of course it couldn't be: the premise is ridiculous. What the book demands of the reader is that they look beyond this absurdity and try and appreciate its broader themes.

As I said, the book isn't really about character. Although its protagonists include mathematicians, politicians and traders, I found it hard to tell them apart after a while. The main trait they all share is their cunning, as they outsmart their opponents for their own power. That's certainly a fascinating character trait, but it seems to be the only trait any of these characters have. There doesn't seem to be any real motivation to their actions other than the pursuit of power. After a while, it feels like a bunch of computers trying to beat each other at chess.

Another problem I noted with the book was the almost complete lack of female presence – the wife of a supporting character is the closest this book has to to a female character. This would be bad enough if in any book, but for something that's meant to be set millennia in the future it's downright odd. Have gender politics really regressed to this extent in Asimov's universe? Even for the fifties it feels odd for a book to not have one prominent female character – even if she's just the love interest.

The exposition is also very clunky in places, with people explaining things to each other that they should already know. What makes this even worse is that the book didn't need to resort to this, as it contains excerpts from the fictional Encyclopedia Galactica. These could have been used to fill the reader in on any relevant information, instead of hampering the prose with poor dialogue.

There is one moment that stands out, though, where a trader comes across an old man who's been left destitute by a brutal civil war. His entire family is either dead, missing or has defected. The old man spends his days placidly sitting out his isolation, not even caring of someone comes to kill him. It's a brief moment of poignancy which shows the human side of war. I only wish there were more moments like it.

Ultimately, I think the Encyclopedia shows where the book's real value lies. It charts an evolution instead of a story. Whether or not you like Foundation depends on what you're looking for in science fiction. It's well worth the read if you want some futuristic worldbuilding, or even if you're fascinated by history or politics. But it doesn't have much in the way of heart. I'll be sure to read the rest of the series, but I'm not in any mad rush to read the next installment.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E04) "The Sons of the Harpy"

(This review contains spoilers for episode 4 and for A Dance of Dragons)

This week was an interesting one for Game of Thrones. Interesting in the sense that the show seems to be improving in some areas, but souring in others.

This week is season 5's bloodiest yet, as we get two sequences of armed mobs causing havoc, the Faith Militant in King's Landing and the Sons of the Harpy in Meereen. It's interesting to compare the two sequences together. While the Faith are fighting a religious war, the Sons are fighting a political one. The Faith don't care about class but the Sons are rooted in it. Both onslaughts may be based around very different issues, but they both amount to the same thing: violence and mayhem. Littlefinger's maxim looks sadly more verified with this latest episode.

Of course he's not doing so well himself, what with the Faith brutalising his employees and clients. This is the first major loss Littlefinger has suffered since the series began, but it's only part of a greater whole. The Faith's assault is a reaction to the corruption and decadence the nobility have enjoyed for generations. There's an ominous sense that Cersei has unleashed something she can't control. After all, she's never been one to respect social or moral conventions, and rumours of her children's illegitimacy is already spreading throughout the capital. Things are so bad the Faith won't even allow the king entrance to the sept. For all her smirking, it's pretty clear that Cersei has all but cut the Lannisters' collective throats.

Aside from Lancel, the only other face of note among the Sparrows is of course the High Sparrow. His manner is just the same as last week, but when you compare it with the brutal acts of his followers, he comes off as disturbing instead of compassionate. I think the intimate discussions between him and Cersei subtly show to parallels between them. Like him, Cersei has managed to keep a composed demeanour throughout much of the show, even while plotting the destruction of her enemies. It's the kind of nigh-unflappable restraint that only a zealout could have – except Cersei only believes in herself and not the Seven.

And after three weeks of frustration and doubt, Cersei's familiar coyness returns when she toys with Tommen. I think the way she blithely tells him to go and release Ser Loras (knowing full well that he can't) says a lot about her character. She may love her children, but she's also determined to control them. Even if it means demeaning Tommen and subtly mocking his failure to govern his own people, she'll do so if it means she can stay on top. The scene with her and Tommen shows the thin line Cerse walks between a loving mother and a controlling one.

If Cersei has become more confident, Margaery's composure takes a blow this week. We see what could be her first moment of sincerity with Tommen when she berates him for failing to release her brother. Is she really so shocked that she has to return to Highgarden to comfort her family, or is it just another bout of emotional blackmail. You have to feel for poor Tommen, who looks like he'd be far more at home in a Disney movie, instead of being caught up in all this deceit and factionalism.

In Dorne, Jaime and Bronn get into their first fight within hours of arrival. After surviving his first scrap since losing his hand, Jaime shows more of his old sardonic self when he glibly leaves Bronn to bury the bodies. I actually hope we see more of this side of Jaime again – which is odd given how much I detested it in Jaime at the start of the show, like when he casually tried to murder a child. I also like how Jaime's new hand gives him some new advantages, which I'm sure will come in handy when they meet the Sand Snakes.

Speaking of which, we do finally meet the warrior band, whom are planning to hunt down Jaime as revenge for the Lannisters' past crimes. It's only a short introduction and it didn't really leave me dying to see more of them, but it's a start at least. I'll admit I felt the Sand Snakes were a bit underwhelming in A Feast for Crows; we barely got to know any of them apart from their names (which I've already forgotten) and their specific traits which I'm a little fuzzy on. One's bloodthirsty, one's flirty and I can't even remember the third one. Granted, it was Arianne Martell who was the focus in the books, but since she's been dropped (along with her whole plotline) it may give the show a chance to develop the Sand Snakes more.

Up North, Jon is still caught between the Wall and Winterfell. Melisandre (Carice van Houten) tries to fuck him into compliance, which I found a little too blatant. Given how her seduction of him is more subtle in the books, it feels like HBO just using any excuse to get some tits on screen. I was glad that he was able to resist her advances for now, but who knows how long that will last? Melisandre doesn't seem the type to give up easily. We also see Stannis and his daughter Shireen (Kerry Ingram) share a moment as he prepares to mobilize for Winterfell. The dialogue is a little corny, especially towards the end, but it is nice all the same to see Stannis has a heart. Now if only he'd stop standing knee-deep in the snow and go kick some Bolton ass like we all want him to.

An interesting point about this episode is that we get two mentions of Rhaegar Targeryen, but from very different sources: Sansa remembers him as the monster who abducted and raped her aunt, while Ser Barristan (Ian McElhinney) recalls him as a man of his people and who loved to sing. It encapsulates one of the series' most fascinating themes; how history and opinion can distort people's memory of someone. We've seen it in the way Ned Stark is cursed as a traitor in the south, but beloved in the North. We've seen it in the way Tyrion has risked his life for a people who despise him, yet gets villified as a Kingslayer. And it shows how a person's character are never certain, when we keep hearing different opinions of them.

What's also interesting is that these two references come from the same episode, after Rhaegar's mythological status has been heavily downplayed by the show. The Griff subplot seems to be another non-entity in the show's universe, but could this sudden interest in Rhaegar mean the show is going to work that particular plot in some different way?

And finally, the episode ends with that other bloody attack: the Sons of the Harpy and the Unsullied massacring each other. It culminates with the death of Ser Barristan, which I have to admit I'm not too pleased about, firstly because it's just a blatant deviation from the books for the sake of it. I get that some of these changes are for pragmatic reasons. Sansa's subplot has already been completely adapted, so the show has to find something for her to do. The Greyjoy subplot would probably break the show's budget if they tried to work that in on top of everything else. The jettisoning of other plots like Griff's and the Riverlands were probably done to tighten up the story so that casual viewers wouldn't be left confused by all the goings-on. (Though I'm still holding out on an appearance from you-know-who. D&D wouldn't really leave a character that important out, right? Right?)

But as for the Meereen plot, this feels like a grave misstep. Given how important Ser Barristan becomes later in the series, it doesn't make sense why the show should suddenly decide to kill him off. My other reason for disliking this is purely for personal reasons. I just don't find any of the other characters in Meereen as interesting as Ser Barristan So with this unfortunate development, my interest with Meereen has taken a considerable dive.

Here's hoping the show can continue to build on its strengths while overcoming its flaws.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E03) "High Sparrow"

(This review contains spoilers for episode 3)

This week on Game of Thrones, Littlefinger returns Sansa to Winterfell to marry Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon), Cersei feels more and more threatened by Margaery, Arya impatiently waits to begin her training to become a Faceless Man, and Tyrion Lannister picks the wrong brothel in Volantis.

The Winterfell subplot was definitely my favourite part of this episode, as it continues to bring various characters together, setting the stage for some nail-biting future confrontations. We see more of Sansa's duplicitousness as she graciously meets Ramsay, showing that she's becoming better at masking her inner feelings. Like I said about Margaery, Sansa is becoming one of the more fascinating characters as her motivations are becoming more obscure. She's clearly horrified that she's been made to marry the family that murdered hers, but she decides to play along for strategic purposes. There's no doubt she resents Littlefinger for putting her in this position, and surely will come to hate him when she finds out what Ramsay is really like. Given how much colder she's become over the last two seasons, I wouldn't be surprised if Sansa decides she's had enough of this shit and plunges a dagger in Ramsay's heart. It would definitely be nice to show her have some proper agency for a change.

Sophie Turner is given a lot more to do here than just look stoic and speak in monotone all the time. Her dignity at meeting the Boltons is a great contrast with her anguish at learning of Littlefinger's plan, but both scenes are equally convincing. Alas, Aidan Gillen is less impressive here. While he nails the character, the accent is more than a bit jarring, growling “Sansa Ssshtarrrk” like a half-assed Robert Newton impersonator

The other character worth mentioning is “Reek” (Alfie Allen), once Theon Greyjoy, now Ramsay's slave. It's fascinating how the series can have characters that start off as absolutely repulsive, but later you can't help but sympathise with. Allen's gaunt figure and twitching dead-eyed stare is both pitiable and somehow frightening. He's like a frightened animal but one you're afraid get to close to. In a way, Theon's like Sansa, in that the Boltons underestimate the threat he poses. He may be their servant but there's a clear battle going on beneath the surface, and his guilt for betraying the Starks could spurn him to try and overthrow his masters.

Or else, maybe Theon's just a red herring. The show has diverged so much from the books there's really no point making assumptions based on the source material anymore. Maybe Theon will finally side with the Boltons. Maybe Sansa will stick a dagger in him, or else leave him as he is as a living punishment.

In King's Landing, we see Margaery become more of a threat to Cersei as she steps up her manipulation of Tommen (Dean-Charles Chapman), a guy so trusting and idealistic you wonder how he's lasted this long. We also meet the Sparrows, who take some of the focus away from the nobility and show what life's like for the commonfolk. They're led by the pious High Sparrow (Jonathan Pryce) who's tempted by Cersei with the position of High Septon. Pryce plays his role with a calm dignity, giving his character not just compassion but also wisdom. He's seen the recklessness of the nobility firsthand as they cause their people to suffer for their own glory, so it will be interesting to watch him clash with the petty King's Landing administration.

At the Wall, Jon is still caught between his duties to the Watch, and the realm. This is the third week we've seen this so he'd better make up his mind soon, because this hmming and hawing is getting a bit tiresome. We do however get the execution of Janos Slynt (Dominic Carter) so it's not all bad.

The House of Black and White was very well realised. The darkness and the looming, gothic architecture gave it a very eerie feel. Unfortunately, the human side of it was a bit of a letdown. I was disappointed to see Jaqen H'gar (Tom Wlaschiha) here, and especially shown so prominently. While the performance is still great, I felt it detracted from the mystery of the character somewhat. Jaqen was so memorable because he almost didn't seem like a person at all, which was linked heavily with his disappearance from Harrenhal. After that point, Arya (and the audience) have no idea where the hell he is, and the fact that he can disguise himself so brilliantly means she could walk past him on the street and never know it. It makes Jaqen seem more like an element, and all the more frightening for it. Making him the Faceless Mens' spokesperson diminishes a lot of his impact. I feel it would have been stronger to never show him again, and forever leave people wondering where he ended up.

I could feel Arya's frustration that she wasn't getting to learn anything this week, just a lot of weird stares and portentious mystical gobbledegook. I admit I found this portion of the book to drag a fair bit so I hope the show doesn't make the same mistake. We did at least get a nice character moment where Arya can't bear to let go of Needle, her one connection with her former life. Like Sansa, we've gotten so used to seeing Arya as cold and hardened that you can almost forget that she's still a real person who's driven not just by anger, but by grief for those she's loved.

Meanwhile, Tyrion's mouth gets him in trouble yet again when he gets noticed by Ser Jorah Mormont (Iain Glen) in Volantis. Hopefully it will give the both of them more to do than just mope all the time. Mormont wasn't the most interesting character for me, since his character on the show seemed to have two main purposes: give exposition and throw Danaerys the puppy-eyes. Now he's clearly gone off the deep end and seems to think giving the Dragon Queen a wine-soaked Lannister fugitive will get him back into her good books. He's a tryer, I'll give him that.

And poor Varys is left with the bill ...

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E02) "The House of Black and White"

(This review contains spoilers for episode 2)

In this installment, Game of Thrones switches to Braavos as Arya Stark (Maisie Williams) arrives to begin her training as a Faceless Man. It's an exciting time as we haven't seen much of Braavos at this point, aside from one scene last season.

This is the first time since the end of season 1 where Arya has had no one to look out for her. The show highlights this by opening with a shot of Arya by herself, looking up at the massive Titan of Braavos, and later by framing her against the House of Black and White, an enormous cathedral-like structure on a small island. It's quite a change from the last few seasons where Arya has been forced to wander around the grey Westerosi backwoods, to now find herself in another lavish open cityscape. Unfortunately, the episode doesn't focus on Arya that much, so while we know she's more than capable of looking after herself, we don't see much of that explored here. It's also a shame as Maisie Williams is a strong enough actress that she should be able to carry her scenes by herself and doesn't need someone to play off of. The brief shot of her reciting her list in the rain is a great character moment in itself (but how come Ser Ilyn's suddenly off the hook?) and hopefully the show will utilize this later on. I also hope we see more of Braavos itself, as it was sadly neglected this week to make room for the myriad of other subplots.

Elsewhere, Brienne of Tarth (Gwendoline Christie) and her squire Podrick (Daniel Portman) continue their noble but seemingly ill-fated search for Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner). When they stumble across her in a tavern, they learn that she's under the care of Littlefinger (Aidan Gillen) and refuses to go with Brienne, whom she believes is a Lannister agent. It's a shame to watch Sansa refuse help from one of the few utterly decent people in this show, but obviously understandable given how untrustworthy almost everyone else she's met has been. That said, I think it's a tad unfair (and pretty damn rich) of her to accuse Brienne of being pro-Lannister just because she saw her kneel to Joffrey. What was Brienne supposed to do? Refuse to kneel to Joffrey? Joffrey wasn't exactly the type to take insubordination well.

And then Brienne proves she's one of the bravest (not to mention one of the stupidest) characters by deciding to save Sansa regardless. How she'll do that when she's now on Littlefinger's radar is something I look forward to seeing in the coming weeks. If she lives ...

Speaking of ambitious rescue missions, Jaime Lannister (Nikolaj Coster Waldau) mounts a secret expedition to Dorne to save Myrcella from possible assassination. And who better to help him than his brother's bromantic former henchman, Bronn of the Blackwater (Jerome Flynn)? We're given a glimpse of what could be a softer side to the sellsword as he romances his fiancée, Lollys Stokeworth, leading to plenty of ambiguity.

Is Bronn a romantic underneath it all, or does he just see Lollys as a new toy for him to play with? When Jaime gives him the scroll, is he annoyed that the Lannisters are splitting them up, or does he just not like people telling him what to do? Charming as Flynn is, I feel it would be something of a betrayal to the series' ethos if they make him too nice. Game of Thrones has done a fairly good job so far of translating the cynicism of Martin's books to the screen. It would be a shame for the show to let all that slip for the sake of a Hollywood feelgood romance.

But of course, it's Bronn and Jaime that will be the focus here, and what a pairing this should make. Bronn will sell himself to the highest bidder, while Jaime would betray his own king for the sake of family. Two worldweary men with two completely different ideologies, thrown together to risk (another) civil war for the sake of one girl. There's a road movie I wouldn't mind seeing.

Hopefully now after two weeks of coming attractions, Game of Thrones will finally kick into gear.