Book Review - After Doomsday (Poul Anderson)

Today's review is Poul Anderson's 1963 novel, After Doomsday.

In the distant future, planet Earth is suddenly hit by a catastrophe that annihilates all life and leaves the planet utterly barren. A scattering of crews travelling through space are all that remains of the human race, and instantly set out to rebuild their civilization and discover the cause of the disaster.

After Doomsday is an interesting book in the way it revolves around a colossal concept, yet manages to tell a fast-paced and engaging story. It also shows a well-developed universe, populated with all manner of civilizations with complex and dynamic relations. The human survivors have to navigate between imperialists, capitalists and feudalists to carve out a niche for themselves in a vast and uncertain universe.

The book is fairly scant on characterisation. Our protagonists are resourceful and have moments of introspection as they remember their former lives on Earth, but developing deep personalities does not appear to be Anderson's main objective. Not that this takes away from the story, but if you like your science-fiction to be heavily character-based, you're likely to be disappointed here.

Anderson does have a slightly annoying habit of delivering exposition through character's thoughts, rather than try to work it into dialogue or behaviour in a way that feels natural. These attempts to establish character backstory comes across as a bit lazy. Again, this doesn't detract from the book's strong points, but some readers might be a bit put off by it.

Apart from the main thread of the the mystery of the Earth's destruction, the plot is largely episodic. Characters move from one planet to another, gradually giving the reader a better understanding of this universe and how it functions. I enjoyed this method of revealing the book's universe, with Anderson gradually teasing details out to stoke the reader's curiosity.

There's a curious segment where an immense space battle is described to the reader through a combination of epic poetry and a fictional historical account. I liked both these little details as they further fleshed out Anderson's created world, giving an insight into the cultures of these alien societies.

One major issue I have with the book is the ending. It ends with a cliffhanger, which I thought was a great idea, but the whole thing feels a little rushed. I didn't feel the extent of emotional impact that Anderson clearly wanted to get across. This spoiled the ending for me a bit.

That said, I still think After Doomsday has more good than bad in it. It's a nifty read and a great example of how you can develop a dynamic fictional world without going all George RR Martin and becoming swamped in your own detail (sorry George).

Highly recommended.

TV Review - Doctor Who, "The Aztecs"

Today I review the Doctor Who serial from 1964, "The Aztecs" written by John Lucarotti.

The TARDIS arrives in Mexico at the height of the Aztec Empire. Barbara is mistaken for a reincarnation of the god Yetaxa, giving her great influence over Aztec society. However, Barbara learns to her horror that she is to preside over human sacrifices, a practice she tries to stamp out by declaring it illegal. Meanwhile, Ian runs afoul of an arrogant warrior while the Doctor's attempts to reclaim the TARDIS draw the affections of a local noblewoman.

"The Aztecs" is remembered as one of Doctor Who's early classics and rightly so. It's a tightly plotted serial that explores two fascinating time travel concepts: adapting to a completely different society and, a recurring theme in Doctor Who, the implications of trying to change history.

These themes revolve around Barbara's 'ascension' to godhood. While Barbara's attempts to change the Aztecs' thoughts on sacrifice is well-intentioned, there's an unmistakeable note of moral superiority about it. Barbara doesn't consider the implications of trying to radically alter a society's conception of death overnight. Her attempts also ring somewhat hollow given she argues her case on her presumed divinity – something she knows to be false but still tries to use to manipulate the Aztecs.

Barbara's efforts lead her to clash with Tlotoxl, the High Priest of Sacrifice. John Ringham adds a lot of flavour to this villain, walking with a stoop to match his plotting nature, and sneering every line with undisguised glee. Once-off villains in Doctor Who can sometimes feel a bit one-dimensional and unremarkable; Lucarotti tackles this by showing that Tlotoxl is not some abhorrence to Acztec society, rather he represents a cornerstone of the Aztecs' belief system. It's Barbara who comes across a threat by trying to impose a completely alien belief upon to the Aztecs, and expecting them to accept it because of her alleged godhood. Tlotoxl may be an unsavoury individual, but to the Aztecs themselves he can't possibly be a “villain” because he represents order.

The serial further shows how different the Aztecs' society is with its inclusion of the Perfect Sacrifice, a man who is to be honoured by being sacrificed and is thus treated like royalty. This isn't some police state that deprives its citizens of their rights (making the Doctor and his friends into heroes for fighting the regime), but a society where people understand and accept the reality of death. These moral complexities make “The Aztecs” one of the most compelling of the early Doctor Who serials.

Then there is of course the famous argument between Barbara and the Doctor, leading to one of the show's most famous quotes: “You can't rewrite history, not one line! Believe me I know, I know.”

I feel this is a scene that's even more important when you look at it in the context of the series. The Doctor was characterised very early on as a prickly, stubborn, and sometimes stupidly selfish person. This was demonstrated in earlier serials like The Daleks, where the Doctor sabotages the TARDIS on Skaro to give him an excuse to explore the planet's surface.

This however is the first time we hear the Doctor discuss the implications of time travel, along with the suggestion that he's tried to change history himself and failed. These days, we're used to the Doctor being the authority on time travel and warning his companions of its dangers. This though is the first time we hear the Doctor struggle to educate his companion in such a manner, using dispassionate logic against Barbara's strong sense of morality. It's one of those little character establishing moments that sees the Doctor slowly change from an irritable meddler into the wise and authoritative figure we know him as today.

A more controversial element (controversial in the fannish sense) is the Doctor's budding romance with Cameca. I'm not normally a fan of the Doctor being written as a romantic as I feel it undermines the aloofness and alienness that's crucial to his character. I will however cut this story a bit of slack largely because the Doctor hadn't yet been confirmed as an alien – the pilot confirms he's from another world, but he could've been a future human colonist for all the information the show gave us.

Besides, the dynamic is so well executed (especially with some lovely understated performances from Hartnell and Margot van der Burgh) that it's hard not to find endearing, even if it does 'violate' your normal fan preferences. At the end of the day, being a Doctor Who fan generally involves a bit of doublethink, as the show's longevity and parade of writers and creative teams mean certain contradictions of canon are bound to appear.

To use another example, I quite enjoy a number of stories from the Cartmel era of the show, even though I generally don't like the Doctor being written as some cosmic, godlike figure. I appreciate the Cartmel interpretation of the character even if it doesn't fit in with my ideal version of what the character should be, and the same is easy to do here as well.

In conclusion, “The Aztecs” is definitely one of the highlights of Doctor Who's early years. It's a story that takes the concept of time travel and runs with it, and is also a great example of how to write a protagonist (in this case Barbara) who's sympathetic but still heavily flawed.

Book Review - Perdido Street Station (China Miéiville)

Hello people, today I review a 2000 novel from China Miéiville, Perdido Street Station.

Perdido Street Station takes place in the city of New Crobuzon in the fictional continent of Bas-Lag. Here, a renegade physicist named Isaac dan Grimnebulin is approached one day by a strange refugee: a garuda (a humanoid bird-of-prey) named Yagharek who's been stripped of his wings as punishment. Yagharek seeks Isaac out to help him regain the power of flight, an offer that appeals to Isaac's curiosity and antipathy towards authority. However, Isaac's experiments inadvertently unleash a terrifying threat on the city that could leave all its inhabitants worse than dead . . .

Perdido Street Station is an incredibly rich and inventive novel. Miéiville has clearly had a lot of fun designing this bizarre alternate society, full of strange creatures and cultures. The garuda are just one distinct group in this city. New Crobuzon is also comprised of humanoid beetles, cacti, frogs, and other even more bizarre and terrifying entities.

Our protagonist Isaac starts off as a jovial if slightly selfish antihero. He's appalled by his former University's ties with the brutal city regime, yet uses his own underworld connections to acquire apparatus discretely. He gladly helps Yagharek to learn how to fly again, mostly so he can make a name for himself by making a breakthrough in physics.

Isaac also shows a level of foolishness and pomposity, such as when he blithely wanders into a garuda settlement with no consideration for their customs, resulting in him being forcefully ejected. This can also be seen in his interactions with Yagharek, where Isaac's overly-friendly demeanour comes off as a bit forced and insincere.

However, this drastically changes halfway through the story when events take a disturbing turn. Isaac becomes a darker and more desperate character in the light of his own personal tragedy, and the impact his experiments have on the city. Like King Rat, we see Miéiville start off with a relatively light tone only to completely beat down his protagonists. Towards the end, Isaac has become so embittered he's barely recognisable as the same person at the start of the book. This should not be taken as criticism however, but rather an indication of Miéiville's mercilessness towards his characters.

Another important character is Lin, a khepri (half-human, half-beetle) and Isaac's artistic girlfriend. Lin's embrace of a career in individual expression has alienated her from her home community, while her race makes her an outsider in the human community as well. Miéiville introduces the reader to khepri history and society by using Lin's experiences with it. Through Lin's defiance of their ways, Miéiville gives a sense of the tension between human and khepri.

Another exiled figure is Yagharaek, a disgraced garuda who was stripped of his wings for some past transgression. He embodies the “noble” warrior trope, remaining a solitary, silent figure for much of the book, and rarely even interacts with Isaac. Miéiville instead uses inner monologue to convey Yagharek's thoughts and motivations to us. Personally, I'm not a big fan of this device, especially when they diverge into lengthy poetic descriptions (as happens here), and wish Yagharek's character had been conveyed to us more through his actions.

Yagharek's stolidness makes for an interesting contrast with the growing insanity of the plot. He's not so much a figure of sanity, but due to his silence and deliberate removal from events, Yagharek conveys a sense of being “outside” the chaos – even if his request to Isaac indirectly causes the horror in the first place.

However, Miéiville viciously subverts this depiction in the latter stages of the book. I won't spoil it here, but it's a development which paints Yagharek in a very different light and left me having to reconsider a lot of my impressions of him. His eventual fate also left me full of questions and a very mixed emotional response, but in a way that the author clearly intended.

Miéiville provides a window into the violent struggle between New Crobuzon's secret police and the underground press through the character of Derkhan Blueday. Derkhan, a former activist and hard-left journalist, gets caught up in the madness caused by Isaac's experiments and, like him, becomes a much harder person by the story's end.

The secret press aspect doesn't relate directly to the plot, but it does flesh out the world of New Crobuzon more. It also adds to the themes of governmental oppression and its consequences, which is important as the government's shady practices are as much a cause of the story's main catastrophe as Isaac's carelessness.

Like with King Rat, Miéiville writes with a strong sense of place and a feel for atmosphere. He works hard to convey the mood and atmosphere of the city, focusing as much on the psyhcological impact the crisis has on the city's population as he does on the direct victims. While the story isn't short on action, the apocalypse that befalls New Crobuzon is of a rather insidious variety. The “nightmare epidemic” and the use of body horror adds to the surreality of the story's crisis.

There are a host of other weird entities in this book that I won't say too much about here; you really need to read this book to get a sense of some of these oddities. The Weaver is perhaps the most distinctive, with its terrifying yet dreamlike presence. While it plays an important role, the Weaver's origins and motivations are largely left opaque; its truly alien form of thought and reasoning is a major plot point. The Weaver's inclusion demonstrates how New Crobuzon, for all its depth and variety, is merely one part of a vast and weird universe.

In short, this is a weird, compelling, sometimes frightening and other times heartbreaking book.

The one issue I have (which some readers may also have) is its length, coming in at just under 870 pages. The book unsurprisingly drags in parts where the plot slows, and Miéiville can become a little too caught up in describing the place or scene.

All that said, Perdido Street Station is still an extremely rich and multi-layered book. It's the type of story that's so vast it's easy to miss things on the first go, making for rewarding rereads. Highly recommended.

Book Review - The Prague Cemetery (Umberto Eco)

Today I look at a novel from Italian author Umberto Eco – The Prague Cemetery is a historical fiction that spans central Europe for much of the 19^th century. It's told from three different perspectives: an Italian captain named Simonini; a priest named Abbe Dalla Piccola; and an unnamed narrator who pieces together a story from the combined writing of Simonini and the abbe.

I was drawn to this book because it's promise of continent-wide conspiracies intrigued me, as well as it's 19^th century setting. Seeing monumental events in recent history like the violence of the Paris Commune and the Dreyfus Affair was one of my favourite aspects of this book. However, on the whole I was extremely disappointed in The Prague Cemetery. It gets off to an intriguing start as we're given three seperate narrators (two of whom very clearly have split-personality disorder), which made me wonder if this was going to be some sort of surrealist text where you can't entirely trust what you're reading.

The more I read though, the less invested I became, and I was soon simply reading the story out of a sense of obligation, not genuine interest.

One of The Prague Cemetery's biggest flaws is this: it has no real characters. What it has are ciphers who exist to push the plot forward. Making matters worse is that nearly all of these characters are interchangeable. Nearly every character is either a scheming revolutionary, a scheming politician, a scheming civil servant, a scheming cleric, or a combination of the above. The one exception is the satanist Diana, and that's only because she exists to be a puppet of the main characters' whims. Instead of a cast of characters, we're given a conveyor belt of equally manipulative, devious and morally sterile people.

I soon began to forget the names of the various bureaucrats and employers Simonini encounters throughout his career, because all of them are equally faceless. Not to mention all of them have more or less the same ambitions and practices – namely to manipulate public opinion to serve their own interests.

Which brings me on to another big issue I have with this book: all of these characters are terrible people. Not only are they bland, stereotypical manipulators, but just about everyone is a colossal bigot. Anti-Semitism is the main focus of the book – I lost count of the amount of times someone goes off on a rant about how the Jews are conspiring to overthrow western civilization – but there's also plenty of misogyny, anti-Catholicism and racism to remind you of how loathsome all these characters are.

But Anti-Semitism is the main subject here. There are two variations: the rabid, fanatical anti-Semitism of the likes of Eduoard Drumont (whose appearance late in the story might have been a nasty shock if I hadn't long stopped caring), or else the empty cynicism of the likes of Simonini. Repeatedly in the story, Simonini forges material he claims to prove an internationalist Zionist plot (originating from a cemetery in Prague, where the book gets its name from) is taking place. His employers often know his “evidence” is fabricated, or else lifted wholesale from popular literature, but they publish it anyway to give the common people of Europe a scapegoat to distract them from the real forces controlling their lives.

This is one aspect of the story that gave me some interest – the idea that politicians and spin doctors openly lie to people to serve their own ends. But again, all of these characters are so shallow and interchangeable that it's hard for me to get invested. It's as if someone wanted to make a novel out of Yes Minister or The Thick of It, but forgot to give its characters flaws and nuances that make them relatable to the audience.

Something else that's sorely missing from this novel is an actual argument. You'd think a story that delves so far into a particularly ugly side of human history would have something of substance to say, or perhaps try to explain why people judge certain communities for being “Other”. It's a topic that's sadly as relevant in Europe today with the hostile response Middle Eastern refugees are facing. But for all it's posturing, The Prague Cemetery doesn't seem to have anything to add to the discussion of prejudice than “Man, prejudice sucks”.

It gives a dangerously simplistic portrayal of how prejudice works in the first place. Since every character in this book seems inherently awful, it gives the impression that bigotry can only exist if generated by inherently awful people. Writing about ordinary and sympathetic people who hold prejudices shows how insidious prejudice is, and might help readers to recognise it in themselves. Repeating the term “Final Solution” over and over does not help anyone better understand why the people of Germany attempted to annihilate several entire races in the 1940s.

Finally, I don't really get what the point of the multiple narratives was, or the split-personality. Seriously, nothing comes of it. It's clear from the start that Simonini and Dalla Piccola are the same person. Eco inserts gaps into their memories, meaning that both personalities have to write to jog the other half's memory. Why Eco didn't simply have a first or third-person narrative all the way through is beyond me.

If I can say anything good about this story, it's that the prose (translated by Richard Dixon) is nice enough, though Eco does like to go off on tangents a fair bit. The act of reading the book may have been a repetitive, often tedious experience, but at least it wasn't excruciating.

Could I recommend The Prague Cemetery? Not really. Not as a historical fiction, or a character study, or a commentary on prejudice, or a spy story, or a satire. Pretty much everything here has been done better.

Just watch Zootropolis instead.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S06E04) "The Book of the Stranger" (Spoilers)

The latest episode of Game of Thrones gives us one of the long-anticipated Stark reunions, with Sansa, Brienne and Pod meeting Jon at the wall. What I liked about Sansa reuniting with Jon was that it was not exactly the reunion one would have expected. We've never seen these two interact before, and one would think that Jon and Bran, or else Jon and Arya, or Sansa and Arya would have been more appropriate, given that we've seen those character interact before. This odd pairing also made the emotion of their reunion all the sweeter. With all the grim happenings of late, this show has been begging for a little happiness.

Jon and Sansa's dynamic here gives a glimpse into the past lives of the Starks, building on last week's flashback to the Tower of Joy. Learning his family is not completely dead gives Jon a purpose again, as he struggles with his second chance of life. But it's Sansa who's shown to have changed the most in this episode. This isn't just shown through her regret for looking down on Jon before, but also through her demands that they return to Winterfell with arms to save their home and their little brother. With Jon, Davos and Melisandre all adrift, not knowing what to do with their lives, it's Sansa who tries to provoke them to action. This suggests that Sansa may become more a political force in the future.

The ground is also laid for plenty of complications: how will the Watch react to the call to march south, when they know a much greater threat is building to the north? How will Sansa take it when she learns Jon has been resurrected through magic (it's unlikely she already knows, given that she's yet to encounter any supernatural forces, unlike her siblings)? How will Brienne react to Jon being a product of the same magic that killed Renly?

Meanwhile, there's another force preparing to march on Winterfell to the south. Littlefinger (Aidan Gillen) returns to the Vale to persuade young Robert Arryn to mobilise to “save” Sansa, while also carrying out Littlefinger's plans to spread his influence to the north. Watching his standoff with Lord Royce made me wonder “What the heck is up with these guards?” First Dorne and now the Vale! What's with this sudden scourge of disloyalty guards have towards their employers? I'm starting to wonder if the Others cleansing Westeros would be such a bad thing, given how there's only about ten sympathetic characters left there.

I'm hoping the clash at Winterfell provides the catharsis denied in last year's anticlimactic Baratheon-Bolton showdown. Odds are at least one unpleasant character will be offed, perhaps Sansa killing Ramsay or Littlefinger, or Ramsay killing Littlefinger or Sweetrobin.

In King's Landing, we get another uncomfortable audience with the High Sparrow, this time as he tries to persuade Margaery Tyrell (Natalie Dormer) to confess her crimes. Pryce's benevolent smile throughout this whole scene continues to be one of the most unsettling things about this season, moreso than Ramsay in all his eye-bulging glory. The fact that his arguments about the nobility's debauchery carry a lot of weight only adds to the insidiousness of the character.

It's also a great scene for Dormer, who conveys through her huge doe-eyes that she's starting to be taken in by his arguments . . . only to show her real mettle when she tries to talk Loras into staying strong. Margaery's balance of firmness and humanity has made her one of the most fascinating characters on the show, and I hope she gets to do a lot more this season than just sit in a cell being lectured to.

From Cersei and Jaime alas, it's more of the same sniping with the small council and generally being ostracised by everyone. There is one tiny exception with the possibility of a brief alliance between the Lannisters and the Tyrells to undermine the Faith Militant's authority. These are two other characters that I hoped are utilised better in the second half of this season.

In Meereen, Tyrion is finally back in the saddle as he cuts a deal with the slavers to wean them off of slavery, rather than snatch it away from them like Daenerys tried to do. This subplot is based around the gap between compromise and ideals, with Tyrion being the pragmatic foil to Grey Worm's dogged loyalty to his queen, with Missandei mediating between them.

I have to say, I found Grey Worm and Missandei far more interesting in this one episode than I have in their three seasons on the show. For them, the deal with the slavers is of greater emotional significance, yet Tyrion (who's had plenty of experience working with and for people who despise him) can see the bigger picture and knows that compromise is sometimes needed. We never had this sort of ideological conflict when Daenerys was in charge. By being placed at odds with Tyrion, Grey Worm and Missandei are forced to assert themselves more, leading to more of their personalities being enforced into the show.

And speaking of Daenerys (Emilia Clarke), whom I've avoided up until this point due to the lack of momentum in her subplot, well . . . it looks like we're back to the Season 1 finale all over again. Of all the characters in this show, Daenerys is the one I'm the least invested in. This is partially because all the show's attempts to make her impressive feel like Telling not Showing, and partially because Emilia Clarke just doesn't sell it for me. When she's supposed to look powerful and frightening as she burns the khals alive, she instead comes off as weirdly detached from everything.

I didn't dislike the climax to this episode, but I didn't feel much of anything else either. It was just a thing that happened. But I suppose the fact that Daenerys' plot is once again progressing could form some interesting conflict down the road.

My prediction for the rest of the season is that Daenerys will try to retake Meereen, and will be shocked and angered at Tyrion's compromise. Daenerys will try to have Drogon incinerate Tyrion, but Rhaegon and Viseryon (whom Tyrion released whereas Daeneys imprisoned them) will fight for Tyrion, leading to a showdown between the three dragons. Last season, Shireen Baratheon mentioned the bloody Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of the Dragons, which may have been a setup for a second Dance.

And no, that does not mean I hope Tyrion is secretly a Targaryen, although it might look a lot more likely if my prediction comes true.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S06E03) "Oathbreaker" (Spoilers)

Episode 3 of Game of Thrones introduces us to one of the most crucial moments in the whole series: the infamous battle at the Tower of Joy where a young Lord Eddard Stark (Robert Aramayo) and his friends fight to save his sister Lyanna from the remnants of Aerys II's Kingsguard. I thought Aramayo's performance was an interesting one, as it showed the uncertainty the young Ned must have felt during Robert's Rebellion. Unlike Sean Bean's composed authority, Aramayo doesn't seem to quite suit the role of a dashing knight.

That actually works in his favour though because it shows the young Ned as more vulnerable than we're used to seeing him. Instead of ruling the North with a firm but caring hand, he seems quite out-of-his depth when faced with the uber-confident Kingsguard. This is highlighted when Ned only survives because of Howland Reed's trickery, than from actual fighting prowess.

In the modern day, we see the less diplomatic players continue to dominate the stage when Winterfell is visited by the brusque Smalljon Umber (Dean S Jagger). Umber promptly chews out Ramsay for his cruelty and his father's treachery, then makes it clear that he's only here out of a need to beat the wildlings than for any semblance of feudal loyalty. It's the last thing you'd expect anyone to say to someone of Ramsay's temperament, and Jagger's unabashed frankness makes for a pretty amusing scene.

It quickly takes a shocking turn however when we see that Smalljon has delivered Rickon Stark (Art Parkinson) and Osha (Natalia Tena) into Ramsay's hands, along with what appears to be the severed head of Rickon's direwolf, Shaggy Dog. Like with the Ironborn, I'm glad to see the show has not abandoned all its past plotlines. The questions now arise as to whether this really is an amoral sell-out from the Umbers, or if the show is paralleling the Manderly plot from the books. Perhaps Umber is planning to sneak an army into Winterfell and needs someone who knows the layout on the inside. I also wonder if the show is going to try to give Rickon some depth, or will it just leave him as a plot device so as not to intrude on the characters we already have.

In King's Landing, Qyburn (Anton Lesser) has recruited Varys' little birds as his own intelligence network. The scene where he bribes a horde of ragged, wide-eyed orphans to do his bidding has a weirdly Dickensian feel that's very out of context for a medieval-style show. But I admit I actually liked the scene for this reason. Like the bloodriders' absurdly macho dialogue in episode 1, the scene is somehow endearing in its oddness.

It's also nice to get a glimpse of how Qyburn goes about his business when Cersei isn't around, giving the background characters just a little bit more life. The scene however does make me wonder how loyal the children are to Qyburn. Varys' influence can stretch across whole continents, so I wouldn't be too surprised if Qyburn one day vanishes down some dark alley somewhere.

Speaking of Varys (Conleth Hill), he seems to be coming into his own in Meereen. The scene where he threatens the son of a Meereenese woman for her conspiring with the Sons of the Harpy restores some menace to a character who's been greatly lacking any for several seasons. I thought the throne room as a setting for this scene was curious on a symbolic level. We open with Varys sitting near the throne but not on it, symbolising how he controls the fate of monarchies despite not having kingly status himself.

I wonder what this could mean for his relationship with Tyrion. Obviously Vary only helps people if they're useful for his plans (whatever they might be), but Tyrion is clearly smarter than to be led by the nose as easily as Joffrey or Tommen might be. Perhaps the scene isn't meant to mean anything, except show how ruthless Varys can be in dealing with his enemies. But given that the scene is directly followed by Tyrion playing house (thus leaving the important work to Varys), I wonder if we might start seeing Varys being more direct and forceful in his ambitions.

While this is going on, Tyrion struggles to make conversation with Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel) and Grey Worm (Jacob Anderson). I thought this was a nice character moment that shows that Tyrion, despite being a brilliant diplomat in Westeros, isn't so skilled when it comes to dealing with people from a country entirely different from his own. That said, I do hope Tyrion starts to regain his politicking mojo, as he's spent far too much time on the sidelines. This is even more important in case Varys really is planning to undermine him.

Speaking of characters who haven't done much of late, Arya Stark (Maisie Williams) finally makes some headway with the Faceless Men when Jaqen H'ghar (Tom Wlaschiha) gives her back her sight. This comes at the cost of Arya's old identity, which apparently has been completely rejected by now. I wonder though how long that will last when Arya returns home and sees the utter ruin her old home has become.

I was particularly glad to see some development here, as Arya's time in Braavos has been one of my least favourite parts of the series due to repetition and lack of momentum. With the ambiguity surrounding Arya's “identity” (What will the Faceless Men have her do now that they seem to think she's ready?), this plotline finally has a new lease of life.

Game of Thrones (S06E02) "Home" (Spoilers)

I know this review is over a week late. Exams and whatnot have been wreaking havoc with my schedule of late.

This week on Game of Thrones, Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon) crosses yet more lines of depravity by murdering his way to becoming Lord of Winterfell. I've noticed an odd change in Ramsay since last year. He doesn't seem to enjoy killing as much as he usually does, showing what could almost be regret as he watches his father Roose (Michael McElhatton) die before him. I wonder if the death of Myranda has shaken his confidence somehow, as he realises that his pet Reek isn't as helpless as Ramsay thought he was.

I'd say Ramsay is starting to realise that he's pushing his luck more and more. He's marked himself out as a kinslayer, and by killing Lady Walda, he's eliminated one of the Boltons' allies in the Riverlands – who also happen to be one of the most prolific families in the realm. This is Ramsay's fourth season of murder and butchery, and by law of averages I'd say this will be his final one. Joffrey didn't last much longer than three seasons; perhaps the producers are thinking of getting rid of Ramsay to replace him with yet another psychopath (Euron Crow's-Eye just happens to debut in the same episode). These murders could well prove the beginning of the end for Ramsay, something I'm sure we can all agree can't come too soon.

Perhaps his murders are also meant to parallel Ellaria and the Sand Snake's betrayal of Doran last week. From Dorne to the Wall, all the more cautious, level-headed players are being removed from the equation, leaving the way open for their reckless replacements. Across the realm, we're seeing the game of thrones devolve into a rage-fuelled stab-a-thon, which of course leaves Westeros even more vulnerable to the Others . . .

This episode also sees the return of the Ironborn, which I was glad to see. They may be a pack of salty, grim-faced bastards, but it's nice to see the show hasn't entirely forgotten its old subplots. Having Yara Greyjoy (Gemma Whelan) and her men utterly fail to save Theon would have been a pretty ignominious note to end on, and I can't wait to see how the power struggle between Yara and her uncle Euron (Pilou Asbæk) ties into the wider struggle for the realm.

That said, I thought the pacing for this segment was a bit off. It zips from Balon (Patrick Malahide) gloating about surviving the War, to him being assassinated, then to his funeral, and the promise of a Kingsmoot. This all happens within the space of ten minutes, almost as if the show's trying to make up for two years of neglect by speeding through the Ironborn plot. I think it might have worked better to kill off Balon in the pilot, then cut to his funeral for this week, just to give a better sense of the passing of time. Maybe D&D been planning on that, only for the scenes to get shuffled around for whatever reason.

It was also pretty sweet to watch the odious Balon get bumped off so unceremoniously, and frankly if you walk on a rickety bridge in a storm you deserve everything you get. Though come to think of it, what makes Yara think he was murdered at all? I mean, just look at those bridges!

In King's Landing, Tommen (Dean-Charles Chapman) seems to be venturing down the path to becoming another Joffrey, vowing to punish the people who've humiliated his wife and mother. I personally think Tommen was more interesting when there was a chance he and Margaery might actually bring some stability to the realm after the chaos of the past few years. Likewise, I think it's a shame that Jaime's (Nikolaj Coster Waldau) possible redemption has turned into yet another revenge quest after Myrcella's murder.

Cersei (Lena Headey) by contrast has become more intriguing since her release from the sept. Her quiet, soft-spoken performance makes it almost impossible to predict where she's going to go from here – or it would if the trailer hadn't added that “I choose violence” line. It'll be very interesting to see how these three characters negotiate the dark urges within them, which no doubt will be provoked even more in the coming war with Dorne.

There's also the building confrontation between the Lannisters and the Faith Militant. Jonathan Pryce continues to shine as the High Sparrow, combining gentle paternalism with an unshakeable zeal that makes him more unnerving even than Ser Robert Strong. The High Sparrow's another character who's hard to predict, but I'm wondering if all this fanatacism is going to burst forward into some frenzy before the season's out.

His brief conversation with Jaime set this conflict up decently, though I thought the dialogue was a bit weak, between Jaime informing the people who came in late that he's a Kingslayer, or the High Sparrow explaining why they adorn their corpses with open eyes. That latter infodump felt more like a blatant foreshadowing of Jon's resurrection.

In the North, Theon decides now's a good time to leave Sansa in the protection of Brienne and Pod. I was a bit disappointed with this development, given how Sansa and Theon's complicated relationship gives a lot of potential for interesting drama. Theon is Sansa's only connection with her past, something she doesn't have with Brienne or Pod since her connection to them has been tangential up to this point. I'm not saying it was a bad decision on part of the writers, but I do feel Theon staying could have led to a more interesting plotline. I'll have to wait and see how this develops before I can judge properly.

I also don't understand Theon's desire to go back to Pyke all of a sudden. It's not like his family treated him any better before he lost everything. It felt more like the writers just wanted a segue into the Ironborn plot.

Meanwhile in Meereen, Tyrion Lannister (Peter Dinklage) decides that Daenerys' dragons need to be released or else they'll wither and die, like the last dragons in Westeros. I liked the little callback to history here, and I'm wondering if that could be foreshadowing stronger ties with Targaryen history. We also get a scene that has been building since the series started, where Tyrion gets to see the dragons up close and personal.

Dinklage's acting in this scene is of course marvellous, with his usual dryness giving way to unashamed wide-eyed wonder. I admit I kind of like the dragons' design as well. Although their reptiles, the animators give their faces some expression as well. They almost come across more as giant scaly dobermans, which I thought was an interesting way to go.

But my God, how stupid would Tyrion have to be to think that just by walking up to the dragons and saying “I am your friend”, they wouldn't burn him alive? This is right up there with Tyrion and Varys' casual stroll around Meereen last week, seemingly unconcerned with the xenophobic death cult that's out to get them.

Tyrion is certainly showing a lot more confidence in himself if he can do all this. Let's hope this translates into some confident politicking in the coming weeks.