Book Fox

I swore I would wait until the series was finished, but I got sucked into the HBO series and I had to know more. What can I say, I'm weak. And because of that same weakness, you will not read a ridiculously over the top oh-my-gods-i-love-this review. You can see the stars. You know I like it. You don't read 5000 pages over the course of 5 weeks without loving something.

But I'm smarting right now because I desperately want to know what happens, which is what I knew would happen. You didn't need to stare into the fires of R'hllor to see that coming. 

And now I am bereft. It's that emptiness that only readers know. You finish something you could have spent your whole life immersed in, but now it's over (at least for another 5 years or so, right, George?), and you don't quite know what to do with yourself. Another fantasy (except for some established favorites) would be like drinking Budweiser after indulging in World Wide Stout. Moving to another genre like switching to some sugary cocktail. They might stave off the DTs, but they don't feel right either. 

I suppose I could watch the series again, but let's face it, even this marvelous adaptation can't contain the massiveness of Martin's creation.

No, I'm left with no other choice but the bracing cold shower of non-fiction. My favorite fantasy author bar none (sorry George), Terry Pratchett, once suggested that the best thing an aspiring author can do (and no, I haven't quite given up that dream), is read as much, on as many different subjects, as you can.

So here I go: Five Days At Memorial is next.