Book Review - Doctor Who: The Left-Handed Hummingbird (Kate Orman)

The Left-Handed Hummingbird is part of a line of Doctor Who books that were released from 1991 to 1997. The Virgin New Adventures (named after the company that published them) were an unofficial continuation of the show, which had been cancelled in 1989. They're famous for being darker, more violent and more brooding than the classic series, and this installment is a prime example of that.

The plot follows the Seventh Doctor, Ace and Bernice Summerfield (a companion invented for the books) as they try to stop the malevolent Aztec god, Huitzilin (Weet-zill-in). In reality, Huitzilin is an early Aztec warrior who was corrupted by malfunctioning alien technology, making him more powerful and more sadistic, feeding off violence and anger. The Doctor and his friends follow Huitzilin from the Aztec Empire, to London in the 60s, and to the Titanic, to stop him before he takes over the Doctor's body.

I bought this book as Kate Orman is praised very highly in fan circles, and I wanted to see her work for myself. This book is often hailed as revolutionary in its portrayal of the Doctor and his companions, and I suppose it is. The NAs were known for being more introspective than the classic show, and often questioned the Doctor and his actions in a way that hadn't really been done before. However, this introspectiveness is so prominent in Doctor Who nowadays that it's easy to take for granted. The Doctor is always questioning his role in the universe, while his companions question his role in their lives, and whether travelling with the Doctor is healthy for them. The story arc of Series 8 is entirely built around this.

As someone who started with the new series before reading thse books, this book didn't shock or amaze me as I was expecting it to. That's not through any failing of the author, it's just that I've seen Doctor Who do this so many times before. At the very least, it's interesting to read and see how the DNA of the new series was seeded through these books a whole decade before it was released.

The plot and characterisation is very solid here. I love time-hopping stories like this because they provide a much bigger sense of scale and history. By showing how old a being Huitzilin is, and how he can appear in any environment, it parallels the theme of violence which recurs again and again in history. The various worlds were well-realised; Orman gives enough detail to bring them to life, but not too much that it bogs down the story.

Huitzilin himself isn't a complex villain (he's just another power-hungry sociopath) but this does free up the protagonists, who are given more depth. The Doctor spends a lot of time doubting himself, but again, Orman doesn't go overboard, so it doesn't feel preachy. Given the Seventh Doctor's godlike status in some of these stories, it's good to bring him down to Earth, so to speak, and show his more vulnerable side. There's a nice moment between him and Ace where he stops her from shooting a man who's attacking them. We see both sides of this argument, and the reader is left to make up their own minds about this. Ace is also well-realised here, and even though she's much angrier and more violent than her TV counterpart, her disillusionment with the world harkens back to the classic show's final seasons, and so it feels like a natural progression of the character. I've heard from sites like The Doctor Who Ratings Guide that Ace becomes more unlikeable as the books progress, but here, I thought she was portrayed very well.

Professor Summerfield is the brains to Ace's brawn. There's a slight feeling of dread as the tension between them mounts, as part of the ongoing arc between them. Between Ace's and the Doctor's angst, Bernice is the most grounded of the trio, providing a level head, especially towards the book's end where Ace is briefly possessed by Huitzilin, and the Doctor gets stabbed. Bernice's tempering effect is vital to the story, as it stops it from being dragged down by its own naval-gazing.

The incidental characters are fine, but nothing too memorable. Cristián Alvarez is the designated bystander who's dragged along for the ride as the time travellers keep appearing randomly throughout his life. There's also a Lieutenant Macbeth of UNIT, who doesn't know much of this mysterious Doctor but will go to any means to find out. I was disappointed that Macbeth didn't have a bigger role here, as I loved the way Orman tied back to the Barry Letts era, while expanding on it. Like Ace, the portrayal is markedly different from the show (UNIT is more sinister here, instead of the cozy ensemble it was in 70s), but still feels like a continuation and not a betrayal of what's come before.

One last connection with the new series is the story arc. As we've come to expect from the new series, a shady villain is working in the shadows to tamper with the Doctor's timestream, which is what causes the series of events in the story. Thankfully, it's not intrusive and the book can still be enjoyed as a standalone adventure. The framing device is so underused here, that it seems as if Orman originally wrote this to be its own story, and the editors made her add a few nods and winks just to tie it together with the other books.

If you're looking for an introduction to the New Adventure line, The Left-Handed Hummingbird is a good book to start with. Whether you're a longtime fan or a newbie, it's very much Doctor Who.

Book Review - The Invisible Man (H.G. Wells)

The Invisible Man is one of H.G. Wells's most iconic works. Like some of his other famous stories, it warns about the danger of science when combined with ruthless egoism. The story begins in the English village of Iping, where a strange man lodges at a local inn. He obsesses over his work and is hostile to any contact from the outside world. When the people discover his secret, the man goes on the run and becomes an almost mythic figure, as the authorities and inhabitants try to track him down.

I would say that the earliest part of this story is the best, where the Invisible Man (known as Griffin) tries to keep his secret at Iping. The story here isn't told from his perspective, but from the villagers, as they try to piece together the strange goings-on that surround him – his unfriendly manner, dogs barking at him, robberies and haunted furniture. Even with foreknowledge of the twist, I felt the build-up here was well executed. The story strikes a good balance between comedy and unease. It's the tone and atmosphere that makes this part of the story, rather than characterisation – the lodger is a cypher, and the villagers are one-dimensional.

The plot ratchets up when Griffin is forced to go on the run, and preys on a traveller named Thomas Marvel, using him to steal his books and scientific instruments from under the townspeople's noses. Marvel is also not very developed, but Wells conveys enough of the fear and confusion of his situation to make him sympathetic. The tension between Marvel and Griffin also added to my interest, as I had no idea how this dynamic would play out.

Halfway through the book, Griffin comes across an old acquaintance, a former fellow student named Kemp, and makes him his confidante. From this point on, I felt the story became much weaker. Griffin's explanation as to how he discovered invisibility and how he came to Iping is necessary, but I felt dragged on for too long. While it's interesting to see Griffin try and survive the London streets in his condition, I felt this monologue killed the plot by being too drawn out.

Griffin's characterisation is the story's weakest point. Whereas at the start he was cold and violent out of desperation, Wells eventually turns him into a full-blown psychopath. Griffin dreams of starting a reign of terror in the English countryside, with Kemp as his right-hand man. Despite his invisibility, I found this plan too ludicrous to find at all menacing. To stay completely hidden, Griffin has to stay naked, leaving him open to the elements. He's also completely outnumbered and his plan doesn't seem to amount to anything beyond killing random people. Griffin's bland and unexplained descent into villainy comes across as a clumsy attempt by Wells to pad out the final third of the novel by adding a villain. While the story was never about characterisation, the earlier parts worked strongly without such broad strokes.

This also scuppers the story's attempts to show invisibility in a realistic sense. Griffin's backstory, while lengthy, goes to great lengths to show the difficulties invisibility would bring. The megalomaniac he becomes feels like a completely different character.

I would recommend the first two thirds of The Invisible Man, as they're an interesting exploration of this “What if” scenario. The final third, though, doesn't really fit, and left me feeling dissatisfied with the story as a whole.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E09 & S05E10) "The Dance of Dragons" & "Mother's Mercy"

(This review contains spoilers for episodes 9 and 10 of season 5 of Game of Thrones)

Game of Thrones reaches the end of its fifth season with some of its biggest changes yet, teasing towards a future that's just as uncertain for book-readers and show-watchers.

One of the most talked-about events is Stannis's sacrifice of his daughter to grant him victory against the Boltons. It's a profound turning-point for Stannis, showing just how far he's prepared to go for what he believes his right. It also dooms for his campaign, starting with the defection of huge swathes of his men, then his abandonment by Lady Melisandre, and the suicide of his wife. Shireen's sacrifice encapsulates the theme of belief which we've seen elsewhere with the Sparrows and the Sons of the Harpy. Once again, we're shown the brutal lengths these characters will go to for their beliefs. It's also caused a considerable stir in the fandom, with Stannis's real-life supporters also defecting in light of what they see as a betrayal of what Stannis should stand for.

People say that sacrificing his own child is a line that Book Stannis would never cross, and that this scene only exists for shock value. We still have a while to find out if that's true. Personally though, I would say this doesn't feel too inconsistent with what we've seen of Stannis so far. He knows the threat the White Walkers pose and genuinely believes that this will help defeat them. The show also establishes how desperate a position Stannis and his men are in, to do something like this. Retreating to Castle Black could mean giving up on Winterfell for years, as they wait for the snows to melt, by which time the Boltons could have dug themselves in so deep they could become unshakeable. And then there's Ramsay's guerilla attack, which only forces Stannis's hand even more. I would say the show has done a decent job of showing why Stannis would be pushed to such extremes.

I feel the scene also works because it conveys the morally grey nature of the show. On the one hand, sacrificing someone (especially an innocent child and in so gruesome a fashion) is a horrifying act for any reason. Shireen's screams certainly make this one of the hardest scenes in the whole show to watch. On the other, Stannis believes that this one death will save millions of lives later on. We've already seen that Melisandre's magic is real, so this is definitely not based on mere superstition. Finally, there's immediate crisis that Stannis and his men are starving and freezing, which serves as the final tipping point. Whether burning Shireen was justifiable, even in such extreme circumstances, is a difficult issue and fans will no doubt be debating this for decades. And seeing how moral complexity is so integral to the series, I feel this scene fits very well into its established framework.

I also felt Stannis's fate in “Mother's Mercy” was a fitting one. Rulers in A Song if Ice and Fire never seem to get noble deaths, so a wounded Stannis being executed in a lonely wood feels appropriate for the series. Yes, they don't show the deathblow, but I honestly can't see any reason why Brienne would change her mind at the last second. Besides, the scene works so well as a death scene that undoing it would cheapen it. The linking back with season 2 gives the scene a sense of closure. I loved the brief break from Stannis's usual stoicness when he realises why he's being killed, and I felt giving a glimpse of the man underneath his cold exterior was a good way to lead into his death. It highlights how vulnerable Stannis has become that even his psychological armour is cracking. On top of everything, it's obvious that Stannis is not Azor Ahai, so really I don't see what keeping him alive would bring to the show.

Another character shown in a drastically different light is Lady Melisandre. Her realisation that Stannis is not the one she's been waiting for all this time is the first time where we see her shaken and uncertain about the future. I thought more time could have been spent on this, not to mention Davos's shock at Shireen's execution. Hopefully, the fallout between them will be properly explored next season – especially Davos's realisation that Melisandre influenced Stannis's decision. Since these two have been at Stannis's side since the beginning, and now their faith in him has been irreperably damaged, I think this is the surest proof that Stannis's story is done. I doubt either of them will go to great lengths to resurrect him.

We also saw a huge power shift in Meereen when Daenerys was rescued from the Sons of the Harpy by Drogon, leaving her council to rule the city in her absence. I thought the riot in the arena was very well executed, and a good example of the show taking full advantage of its budget. There was also a potent contrast between Drogon incinerating the assassins, and Shireen's gruesome death moments before. I found this an interesting way to show the parallels between Daenerys and Stannis. Both have a much wider sense of duty to the realm other than consolidating their own power, and both have used fire as a weapon and symbol of authority. Shireen's death by fire is portrayed as a horrific act, while Drogon's use of it carries a certain level of catharsis, in light of the Sons' various crimes. I feel this contrast shows how fine the line can be between acts a viewer finds satisfying, and those a viewer finds repulsive.

Daenerys's departure leaves Meereen in the hands of Tyrion and Varys, and it seems as if their relationship will be a driving force behind next season's plot. It would be interested to see how the show handles Varys, although given how he's one of the most enigmatic characters in the whole series, I imagine this will cause yet more ruptures between the book purists and show-watchers. We also get teased for another road trip as Daario and Jorah leave to track down Daenerys. Given how weak the Dornish plot was this season, my hopes for this aren't exactly high.

That said, the Dornish plot does at least have an effective ending, where Myrcella dies of poison right after accepting Jaime as her father. After a whole season of empty hype, it was nice to see Ellaria and the Sand Snakes in a properly menacing light, though I still wish we didn't have to wait so long for this to happen. Plus, this can only lead to all-out war between the Lannisters and the Martells, which I suppose means that Dorne will feature next year as well. I just hope it's a bit more interesting this time around. I also wonder how this will affect Jaime's character development. His first proper moment with one of his children and she's then snatched away from him. Will Jaime start to become as paranoid as Cersei, or will he regress to the callous cynic he was at the start of the series?

Apart from Dorne, I would say the weakest plot this year was Arya's training in Braavos. This was another plot which I felt meandered somewhat with no real sense of momentum. Plus, all those portentious lines from Jaqen H'gar start to grate after a while. The last two episodes do, however, shake things up a bit. First we have the arrival of Lord Mace Tyrell, someone who's just been a background character for years, but finally gets a brief moment in the spotlight. Roger Ashton-Griffiths takes full advantage of his chance to ham things up, fleshing out this formerly forgettable character and giving the episode some much-needed levity. We also have a brief but welcome return from Mark Gatiss, who also gives it his all for this one small scene.

We also get Arya's satisying and gruesome dispatch of Ser Meryn Trant, which then leads to one of the strangest yet most hilarious scenes I've ever seen from this show. As well as the slow pacing and repetitiveness, what bothers me about the Faceless Men subplot is the sheer bizareness of it, with Jaqen's ability to teleport while giving dead bodies multiple faces. Even for a fantasy series, this feels out of place. Dragons are self-explanatory. The White Walkers are also not too hard to figure out (a race of Necromancers) even if we don't have all the details yet. But what we see in the House of Black and White just feels like weirdness for the sake of weirdness. Thematically it makes sense – Arya is being made to learn not to kill for pleasure – but the omnipotence of the Faceless Men just feels out of step with the rest of the series. Maybe the payoff will be good, but for the moment, I wouldn't mind if this subplot was completely discarded.

In King's Landing, Cersei is made to endure her walk of shame. I found this a very powerful scene, because while there's a definite sense of justice to Cersei being brought down to the level of the people she despises, it also shows the cruelty of mob mentality and almost made me feel sorry for Cersei. Lena Headey and David Nutter did a fantastic job of wringing some sympathy from this repellent character. But once Cersei returns to the Red Keep, we're reminded of her ties with Qyburn and his experiments, showing once again how Cersei will go to the most appalling lengths to stay in power.

In Winterfell, we get a small but brilliant scene where Sansa refuses to be intimidated by Ramsay's psychotic girlfriend, and Theon finally grows a backbone and offs her. It was a nice moment for both of them (though I wish Sansa could have been more proactive in her escape), before they're both literally dropped into an uncertain situation by fleeing the castle. I imagine they'll both be found by Brienne next season, as that seems the only chance they have of survival, beyond being found by Ramsay's troops. Unfortunately, Ramsay himself escapes his comeuppance yet again, but there's always next year.

And finally, Jon's strain with his men finally reaches breaking point with his assassination. While this has clearly been building for a long time, I was surprised by its depiction onscreen. Until now, all Game of Thrones seasons have ended on a huge, cinematic note: Dany's dragons; the White Walker army; Daenerys hailed as a liberator; Arya sailing for Braavos. This season defies that with an unceremonious shot of Jon lying in a pool of his own blood. We didn't even have Lady Melisandre coming across his body. At first I was disappointed by how lacklustre it felt, but like with Stannis, I eventually decided that it worked in showing how ignoble death is in this series. Of course, unlike Stannis, it's almost definite that Jon will return, but how or in what form is still unclear.

With that we come to the close of another season of Game of Thrones. I enjoyed it for the most part, though I feel the show has been pushed almost to breaking point in terms of subplots and characters. I know that producing and financing a show of this scale must be an absolute nightmare, so it's inevitable that some stuff would have to be skimmed over or else cut entirely. As stuff gets dropped, it leads to more deviations from the source material, which I don't feel is a bad thing in itself. I'd say the show has stayed true to the spirit of the books, even if it hasn't adhered to the plot. Besides, the show needs to have its own identity and not just slavishly follow the source; after all, if a person wants an exact copy of the books, they can just read the books.

We've now reached the point where nobody save GRRM and the showrunners know where the story is going. It'll be fascinating to see where the two media go from here, though it'll be a long wait yet. Until then, the long winter will carry on ...

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E08) "Hardhome"

(This review contains spoilers for episode 8)

Well after five years of buildup, we can say winter is finally here. Not in terms of snow and ice – we've already seen plenty of that – but in terms of its deadliest element: the mysterious White Walkers. “Hardhome” is an episode where not a whole lot happens. The Winterfell and King's Landing subplots are merely stalling for the finale, but this is made up for in Meereen and north of the Wall, where Game of Thrones reaches some key turning points. This is an episode that's every bit as crucial as “The Rains of Castamere”, but whereas that episode is notorious for its twist ending, “Hardhome” deals with plots that we've seen being set-up since day one. The Lannister and Targaryen destinies become intertwined for the first time in almost twenty years while the White Walkers give the Stark words a terrifying vindication.

The meeting between Tyrion and Daenerys was an interesting one, because it fundamentally changes the course of the story, yet neither character behaves any differently to how we've expected them to. Tyrion gives dry commentary while drinking heavily (Daenerys cottons onto his vice pretty quickly) while Daenerys gives more speeches on how she's going to tear the oppressive Westerosi hierarchy asunder.

I think it's time to be brutally honest: I'm not much of a fan of Daenerys Targaryen. I can see why people love her so much (her character arc, her pets, her compassion mixed with her coldness) but personally she just doesn't do much for me as a character. Maybe I'm just jaded because her subplot has been cut off from every other storyline for years, and the only reason I care now is the introduction of Tyrion, a character I find much more interesting. Maybe it's because her grandiose speeches feel somewhat hollow given how there's still no guarantee that she's suppressed the counter-revolution against her. As I said before, how can she be expected to rule Westeros if she can't keep the peace in one city?

Another reason Daenerys's reputation feels hollow is that one of her greatest assests (her dragons) are too dangerous for her to handle. They're the ultimate symbol of her family's power and yet she has to keep two of them locked up with the third has gone AWOL. I'm just not convinced that she's as much of a badass that the series wants her to be. Again, I'm not saying she's objectively a bad character as I can see why people would love her. It's just that on a personal level of character investment, Daenerys (along with her entire court) is way down at the bottom for me along with Bran Stark, but that's another story. I can appreciate that Tyrion and Daenerys meeting is a turning point for the series, but for me it's Tyrion that makes it worthwhile.

The other event of note is of course the White Walkers' attack on Hardhome. This is preceded by a Night's Watch delegation to broker peace with the wildlings. The meeting goes fairly well given how they've been at each other's throats for centuries, but this only makes it all the more tragic when the entire population are converted to the White Walkers' army. In the past we've seen characters cut down in their prime and used as red herrings to fool the audience about where the story might be going. In this case, instead of a person it's an alliance between two sides that gets shot down. The episode does give some little character touches that work to sell the horror of the White Walkers' plan, when their humanity is taken away to become part of their army. A wildling warrior being eaten alive by zombified children was a particularly effective way of showing this.

The battle itself is filmed very well. The use of fog and smoke gave the scene an eerie quality and also worked well in the initial stages of the assault. At the start it seemed as if Hardhome was being attacked not by an army, but by the forces of nature. In one sense that's exactly what the White Walkers are, but this contrasts with their perverse recruitment of the dead to their cause. I liked the use of practical effects for the skeletons as they attack the gates. The screams on the other side giving way to silence was one of the most chilling scenes I've ever seen. On the other hand, Wun Wun's casual trampling of his enemies gave the scene some nice comic relief while also showing our heroes aren't totally outmatched.

The White Walkers are also given a face in the form of the Night King, who proves to be as frightening a villain as any we've seen without having to say a word. His silence contrasts with the human villains we've seen. Tywin Lannister, Littlefinger, hell even the Boltons (to an extent) can be bargained with. The political ties and agreements we've seen (like the Boltons' alliance with the Lannisters) are based on the concept that one side needs something from the other. The game of thrones itself is based on diplomacy and using other people's needs to your own advantage.

But as people like the High Sparrow show, the rules of the game are changing. More absolutist figures are becoming more prominent, who don't care about compromise or negotiations and only want to pursue their own goals to the end with a single-minded determination. The Night King seems to represent the zenith of that philosophy; he only wants to conquer the world (it appears) and why bother with negotiations when you can turn your own enemies to your side once you've killed them?

The silence as the stragglers sail away from Hardhome encapsulates this. It contrasts with the very human arguments in the tent before the assault; hundreds of clamouring voices all turned to one purpose. The march of the dead on Westeros looks inevitable and the game of thrones seems pretty trivial now.

Book Review - King Rat (China Miéville)

In this review, I examine China Miéville's 1998 debut, an angry, vicious modern fairytale.

King Rat follows a young man named Saul who's one day arrested on suspicion of murdering his father. He's then sprung from prison by a mysterious creature who calls himself King Rat and who claims to be Saul's long-lost uncle. King Rat tells Saul that his previous life is over and that he must adapt to a life in the sewers and living on rubbish. Soon Saul learns that a ferocious demon is hunting him, King Rat, and all the other supernatural denizens of London. Saul must then lead a reluctant army of rats to save himself, his friends and the whole city.

This book was quite a surprise for me. It took a while for me to get into it as a lot of it felt very familiar. The tone reminded me a lot of Neil Gaiman through its blend of supernatural and a very modern setting. The “I am your Father/Uncle/Grandfather” revelation also gave the book a very by-the-numbers feel to it, as did the catalyst of Saul's father dying. Something else that didn't surprise me while reading was the incorporation of the myth of the Pied Piper into the story, with the Piper playing the main villain. For a while the book felt tolerable, if a little predictable.

All this changes midway when the tone suddenly shifts into much darker territory, starting with the Piper's kidnap of Kay, one of Saul's friends, and then literally tying him to a railway. I expected Kay to be eventually rescued but was shocked when he was run down by a train, which Miéville describes in a very simple yet still gruesome way. Another shock comes when Saul meets a homeless woman named Deborah, who's set up as if to become a friend and possible love interest, only to be brutally murdered herself by the Piper.

Midway through the book, King Rat is also shown in a much more unpleasant light which undercuts the earlier impression of him. He's introduced as an eccentric figure who acts as Saul's mentor. But it's later revealed that he's not Saul's uncle but his father, and that he raped Saul's mother in an alley to give him a rat-human hybrid that he could use as a weapon against the Piper. Not only does this transform King Rat in the reader's eyes, it also radically alters Saul as a character. He goes from being a scared little man who doesn't want the responsibility of being king of the rats, to a determined leader who leads the fight against the Piper.

This book stunned me with its vicious undermining of my expectations, and made a lasting impression on me because of it.

Miéville also situates the book very well with constant references to London landmarks and districts. Places such as Battersea Power Station and the Elephant and Castle become crucial points in the story and I'm sure would immerse Londoners in the story very well.

The story's characterisation is used to explore the theme of isolation which can arise from living in a compact urban setting. Miéville does this by drawing parallels between Saul and his two friends, Natasha and Fabian. While all three go through seperate experiences, they're all cut off in some way from their former lives and the world they understand. Saul struggles to cope with the loss of his father while at the same time facing a swarm of rats who see him as their new messiah. Natasha is imprisoned in her flat by the Piper, who wants to use her musical abilities to enhance his own hypnotic powers. Fabian feels increasingly lonely as his friends continue to disappear from his life. This recurring theme added heavily to the bleak tone of the story and made it far more than a simple urban fantasy novel.

King Rat was a not exactly pleasant surprise for me but I found it an amazing book nonetheless. After reading it, I'm keen to read more of Miéville's work and hope to be as gripped as I was here.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S05E07) "The Gift"

(This review contains spoilers for episode 7)

The plotlines in Game of Thrones continue to converge as the season moves closer towards its finale.

The episode opens by showing how Sansa is coping with Ramsay's continued abuse. On one hand, she's clearly not too afraid to call him out on his illegitimacy which shows a lot of development from her more timid earlier self. Perhaps Sansa's becoming somewhat desensitized to such treatment, having suffered so much of it in King's Landing. But we do see some genuine horror when she learns that her northern maid has been betrayed and tortured to death. I think Turner and the writers do a great job of striking the balance between Sansa's colder and more human sides.

The episode also sadistically teases that Theon may start to rebel against his masters, only for him to betray Sansa to Ramsay which leads to the torture of the old woman. I was glad they didn't go down the cliched route of using Sansa's rape as a catalyst for a male character's redemption, as it means Sansa will have to escape the Boltons on her own strengths – if she escapes at all, that is. With that said, I still hope to see Theon get his own revenge on Ramsay, but it's clear by this point that he and Sansa will have to do it seperate from each other.

In Dorne, things get briefly interesting when Bronn almost dies from poison. The Sand Snakes are also given something to do by taunting him before giving him the antidote. This is probably the most invested I've been in the Dorne subplot till now and I hope things improve from here.

Jaime meanwhile has to put up with his daughter's naive tirade that her love for Trystane can outweigh the schism between their families. While her rant feels very cliched, it does play a vital role in Jaime's development. The arrogant belief that “love conquers all” is one that he himself used to have, going back to the very first season (“The Kingsroad”) where he makes a vow to Cersei:

The boy won't talk and if he talks I'll kill him. Him, Ned Stark, the King, the whole bloody lot of them until you and I are the only people left alive in this world.

It mirrors the scene in A Storm of Swords where Jaime meets the equally arrogant Ser Loras Tyrrell, who reminds him of a younger version of himself. Like in the book, Jaime is confronted with a manifestation of his own past, but here it's far more effective because this time he faces one of his own illegitimate children, a product of his own vanity and blind devotion.

The scene is also reflected in Cersei's talk with Tommen, where she promises to destroy the whole world to protect her children. This is one of the few truly sincere things Cersei has said to Tommen, and it shows the widening rift between her and Jaime. Whereas Jaime is beginning to look beyond himself, Cersei is becoming more and more wrapped up in her own ego. This of course makes for a very satisying climax where the Sparrows turn on Cersei and she's locked in the Black Cells mere moments before she taunted Margaery in one.

One of the best moments from this episode for me was the meeting between the High Sparrow and Olenna Tyrrell. What made it so great was that this was the first time Olenna is seen even slightly ruffled. While Tywin Lannister was equal to her in terms of ruthlessness and calculation, the High Sparrow is someone else entirely – he's not out for gold or power (or at least claims not to be) but instead wants to bring the nobles down to the level of the smallfolk they've been lording it over for so long. He frustrates Olenna by simply refusing to play her game. But that's not to say he doesn't know the rules, like when he points out that the grain House Tyrrell uses to feed the city is grown by peasants. The scene echoes Varys's motto that “Power resides where men believe it resides” and hints that Westeros may undergo something of a power shift very soon, if the High Sparrow can convince the smallfolk the power lies in their numbers and not the status of their masters. If the High Sparrow's predictions come true, he may end up paving the way for Daenerys to take Westeros by portraying herself as the liberator of the people.

I loved Pryce and Riggs's performances in this scene. Even though neither character raised their voice, it still conveyed the ideological clash between them brilliantly. Pryce also shows considerable menace when Cersei is arrested. He remains calm and reserved as always, but the steel in his face is unmistakeable. This is the first time the High Sparrow goes from kindly to downright sinister, but Pryce pulls it off magnificently.

An even more crucial meeting is that between Tyrion Lannister and Daenerys. The build-up is very well-done with the show briefly hinting that Tyrion will flee the arena and Jorah's plans will be ruined. Jorah himself is shown at his most desperate when he bursts into the arena just so he can look on Daenerys's face one last time. While he was never my favourite nor most compelling character, I still couldn't help feeling sorry for him when after everything he's tried, she still won't forgive him for his treachery. How she'll react to him bringing a Lannister to her court is another matter.