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.

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.