John Crowley – The Deep (1975)

“Crowned men with red tears running from their eyes held hands as children’s cutouts do, but each twisted in a different attitude, of joy or pain he couldn’t tell, for of course they all smiled with teeth. Behind and around them, gripping them like lovers, were black figures, obscure, demons or ghosts. Each crown had burning within it a fire, and the grinning black things tore tongue and organs from this king and with them fed the fire burning in the crown of that one, tore that one’s body to feed the fire burning in this one’s crown, and so on around, demon and king, like a tortured circle dance.”

In ‘The Deep’, as much as in ‘Engine Summer’, John Crowley displays both his gift with beautiful prose as well as his empathy with everyday suffering. Which is not bad at all for a first novel. Where its political manipulations between multiple morally ambiguous sides anticipates George R R Martin’s ‘A Song Of Ice And Fire’, while Martin delights in dreaming up new and inventive mental and physical punishment to destroy his characters’ lives, Crowley’s characters meet with simple, unglamourous deaths, frequently lost offscreen in the indiscriminate chaos of battle. All that’s left is the sadness of pointlessly wasted human life.

   I suspect you could argue long and pointlessly as to whether ‘The Deep’ is SF or Fantasy. It is set on a flat circular world that is supported on a giant pillar that rises out of the eponymous Deep, a void of nothingness that surrounds the world. The sun and numerous moons orbit around it, and an ancient beast known as Leviathan sleeps underneath the world, coiled around the pillar. So you have a premise not dissimilar to a severely warped Discworld or World Of Tiers, and indeed you might wonder what effect living on such a different world to ours would have on the people living on it. Well, the answer is perhaps less than you would think, seeing as the whole world is caught up in a viscous struggle for power that has been going on for time out of mind. You have your fairly standardish Fantasy set up, where the Folk, your average common people, are looked after – read exploited – by the Protectors, the landed gentry. The Protectors are divided into two factions, the Reds and the Blacks, who have been fighting each other for many generations. The knowledge in the world is controlled by the Grays, a brotherhood of priests and scholars, and just to confuse matters there is a group of freedom fighters called the Just, who see it as their task to assassinate everyone in the Protectors’ class to gain freedom for the Folk. Not that the vast majority of the Folk support their endeavours in any way. The neutral Endwives camp out near battles and clean up the mess, saving who they can.

   Much of ‘The Deep’ deals with the futility of war, the pointless and never ending cycle of revenge, betrayal and violence. The two sides are even named after chess pieces, suggesting how they are all reduced to pawns in someone else’s strategy, pieces on the board. Or perhaps checkers is the more apt metaphor, with everyone’s brilliant strategies shown to be so much hot wind. Much like a game, whoever is in the position of power seems to have absolutely no significance for anyone outside of the people playing. The most sympathetic Protector is the vaguely Ned Stark-ish Redhand, whose honour and general decency get him absolutely nowhere fast in this particular game. At least by the end of the book, there is a sense that everyone is sick and tired of war, and there is at least some kind of hope for a way out of the cycle of destruction.

Guess how many of these people are alive by the end of the book

  
 Into this confusion a Visitor is sent from beyond, a nameless being with silver skin and superhuman skin with a vitally important purpose to bring to the people, if only he could remember what it was. Due to his amnesia he starts the book as a wide-eyed blank slate, and is thrown right in the middle of the power struggle between the Reds and the Blacks, following a Red takeover from the Black king. Slowly we see him become wise in the ways of selfishness and deception as he learns more about the world he’s found himself in. The Visitor’s corruption is deftly handled. In his initial state, friendly, unthreatening and full of a hunger for knowledge, everyone he encounters finds him unsettling for these character traits as much as his bizarre appearance. Up until the moment where he takes action for himself, he is guarding the life of his friend.

   But it’s not just his surroundings influencing his behaviour; the call from his true purpose is too strong to ignore. And his change in behaviour is linked to what that purpose is. The Visitor is a messianic figure, sent from the heavens to redeem this poor war-torn realm. And to a certain extent that’s true. One of the characters spends a large chunk of the book trying to figure out an ancient riddle: if everyone has two parents and so four grandparents and so on all the way back up the line, how come the small world is not overcrowded? Where do they go? Well, of course, they die. The Visitor has been sent to facilitate this by being a bloodthirsty warrior, leading the world even further into mayhem, death and destruction in order to keep the population down.

   This is a brutal and shocking twist, and it gets right to the heart of what the book is about. Just because it is possible to imagine a higher power, should it exist there is no guarantee it would be the kind of higher power we’d like, or that its idea of our best interest would match ours. The world of ‘The Deep’ is ostensibly one where bad things happen on a regular basis, but it’s not in spite of God’s plan, but because this is God’s plan. When the Visitor, having travelled to the very edge of the world, summons Leviathan and speaks to it, he finds that the god-like being – it is never named explicitly – originally took mankind from another planet to this artificial world because people begged for a return to simpler times, without fully understanding what that wish meant. Eternal life as the perpetual motion of eternal struggle and strife. In ‘The Deep’, the covenant God made with humanity is simply a really bad bargain on humanity’s side. 

George R. R. Martin - A Song Of Ice And Fire Book Two: A Clash Of Kings (1998)

"What good was it to take a kingdom if you could not hold it?" Theon Greyjoy

"You should have learned by now, none of us get the things we want." Cersei Lannister

   At the end of book one, the Seven Kingdoms teetered on the edge of chaos as five kings laid claim to the Iron Throne. 'A Clash Of Kings' picks up pretty much directly where 'A Game Of Thrones' left off, but as well as focusing on all the pieces already in motion, George R. R. Martin continues to expand the world of Westeros, adding more characters and more viewpoints. So while Tyrion Lannister becomes the King's Hand and sets about trying to fortify King's Landing and minimise the havoc caused by King Joffrey, Robb Stark cements his position as King of the North by leading more battles against the Lannisters and Arya tries to escape to the North with Yoren and the Night's Watch, the late Robert Baratheon's brothers Stannis and Renly gather their forces to make their claim to the throne. If that sounds like it would make for a narrative even more packed and complex than that of 'A Game Of Thrones', well, it does. Astonishingly Martin just about manages to keep all the juggling balls still in the air, though perhaps inevitably the strain does show at times. For all that, it's a thoroughly satisfying sequel, and the action-packed siege of King's Landing is even more exciting than anything in the first book. 

Another book, another map

      As Theon neatly points out at the top of the page, one of the main themes of the book is that being able to achieve power doesn't necessarily mean you are fit to rule. Robert Baratheon became king because he was a great warrior, the one who defeated Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident. However the very characteristics that made him a great warrior made him a lousy king. Renly shares Robert's easy charisma, but is similarly blase about the practicalities of running a kingdom. Stannis, with his strong sense of justice and serious mind, is much better suited to rule, but his lack of charisma means he is unable to get the popular support necessary to support his claim. In his desperation he winds up allying himself with Lady Melisandra of Asshai, a member of a creepy cult built around the creepy Lord of Light and possessed of sinister dark powers. We see Stannis mainly through the eyes of Davos, a former smuggler knighted by Stannis for single-handedly allowing Stannis to last through the siege of Storm's End. At the same time Stannis also cut off Davos' fingers to punish him for smuggling, which tells you all you need to know about Stannis' sense of justice. Davos is staunchly supportive of Stannis, and his story arc, where he sees the man he respects and loves making worse and worse decisions and heading further and further into the abyss, are grim and powerful.

   Arya Stark also finds herself allying with dubious powers. Yoren's attempt to save her and one of King Robert's bastards by smuggling them north with the new recruits for the Night's Watch is quickly and brutally punished in the way only Martin does. In the ensuing chaos, Arya assists dangerous Lothari madman Jaqen H'ghar, and so when Arya is captured by Gregor Clegane and forced to work as a servant at Harrenhal, he pays her back by offering to kill three people of her choice. She uses this new power to free the Lannister's Northern prisoners and help them take over the castle, but it is a tribute to Martin's gritty cynicism that the servants and workers are no better under the Northern bannermen's control than under the Lannisters. 

   While Arya and Stannis struggle with morality and fight to retain their souls, Theon Greyjoy cheerfully jumps right past the moral event horizon. Nothing more than a minor annoyance in the first book, in 'A Clash Of Kings' Theon becomes a viewpoint character and we get to find out what a toxic environment the inside of his head is. Much like Joffrey, he is revealed to be a twat before his villainy is revealed. Writing for Theon must be a delicate balancing act - he gets enough of a sympathetic backstory that we know exactly where he's coming from and why he is the way he is, whilst his actions always keep us from feeling any actual sympathy towards the character. The Greyjoys as a whole are just awful - parasites who smugly announce 'We Do Not Sow' because they get everything they need by thievery. Desperate to prove his worth, Theon betrays the Starks and takes over Winterfell. His absolute lowest moment comes when he tries to kill Bran and Rickon, and failing to do that murders two similarly aged children to prove he will not be screwed with. As the quote at the top of the page shows, he has moments where he is quite savvy, but because he's an idiot he makes a series of spectacularly poor decisions and gets his thoroughly earned comeuppance. 

The Greyjoy words are "We're going to try our darndest to be worse than the Lannisters! Wish us luck!"

   If the main storyline of 'A Game Of Thrones' was Ned Stark investigating the circumstances surrounding John Arryn's death, the main plot in 'A Clash Of Kings' follows Tyrion's attempts to rule in Joffrey's stead. Tyrion is probably the only character in the book with both the moral fibre to rule justly and the cunning to survive in the cutthroat environment of the King's court. Much of the book involves Tyrion, Varys and Littlefinger snarking at and manipulating each other. It's thoroughly entertaining, and I would happily watch a TV show that was only that. Tyrion has enough awareness that in order to survive and keep the peace in an increasingly fractious environment he is going to have to do some fairly unpleasant things. At one point in the book he comforts himself with the thought that "It is not what we do, so much as why we do it." Really he should know better. Like Ned Stark he is surprised when he discovers that his idealism has alienated people; in fact he winds up the most hated Lannister. Some of this is discrimination, and some of it is that people don't realise the work he does to undermine all the damage Joffrey does, but some of it - that he's filled the city with murderous sellswords - is actually fair enough. For all his careful planning, in the siege of King's Landing at the end Tyrion leads the battle, which winds up getting him grievously injured.    
   'A Clash Of Kings' is also a great book for Sansa and Catelyn. Sansa continues to grow and develop as a character, showing remarkable fortitude in the face of adversity, for what good it does her. At least by the end of the book she is no longer betrothed to Joffrey, though how much good this does her in the long run is debatable. She also acts as the audience's viewpoint on Cersei Lannister for much of the book. Cersei herself gets a fair bit of character development as well, even having a couple of humanising moments as well as neatly summing up how Martin's universe works. Jaime only appears for one scene, but it's a good one, as he baits Catelyn in his cell at Riverrun. Catelyn continues to exemplify the Tully family motto: 'Family. Duty. Honor." Whilst dealing with her grief, she frequently winds up being the only sane man in a world with more than its fair share of hotheads and idiots. Martin's cheap trick of making her believe that Bran and Rickon are dead really stings; the poor woman has enough on her plate already. Meanwhile the threat beyond the Wall grows ever greater as Mance Rayder gathers the forces of the wildlings together for a massive assault; Jon Snow winds up having to seemingly betray his oath as a brother of the Night Watch and joins the wildlings in order to become a double agent.
   The only major character I've not mentioned so far is Daenerys. There's a reason for that. While Martin finds plenty to keep her busy with over the course of the book - she leads her Dothraki raiders through a desert, meets a warlock and has a dream quest - her story is noticeably separate from everyone else's. While all the other characters' actions have impacts on the other characters' stories, creating a complex, interweaving narrative, nothing Daenerys has done so far has had an impact on this, nor has any of it effected her. Hopefully that will change in the next book, as at the end Illyrio Mopatis makes himself known again and provides her with the means to get her forces to Westeros. Hopefully next time round she will have more interaction with the main plot.
  Oh, and yes, Tyrion does get to slap Joffrey again. I really hope this happens in every book. 

George R. R. Martin - A Song Of Ice And Fire Book One: A Game Of Thrones (1996)

"'The common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends,' Ser Jorah told her. 'It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace.' He gave a shrug. 'They never are.'"

Perhaps the most surprising thing about 'A Game Of Thrones', the first volume in George R. R. Martin's sprawling 'A Song Of Ice And Fire' series, is how focused it is. It has a cast of thousands, nine of which are viewpoint characters, yet it rattles along at a healthy pace despite its 800-odd pages, and there is something thoroughly elegant about how the different strands of the plot unfold to their grim conclusions.
   'A Game Of Thrones' is most assuredly Fantasy, from the detailed maps at the front of the book to the appendix detailing all the different family lines, replete with house sigils and words. But in many ways it's a deconstruction of modern fantasy as we know it, and of the various tropes and assumptions that are the very lifeblood and appeal of Fantasy as a genre.

Always start your book with a map. Preferably two.

  Tolkien's influence is pretty much as unavoidable in modern fantasy literature as, say, Star Trek's is on TV space opera. Martin is undoubtedly influenced by Tolkien, but while some books written in his wake have done little more than recycle the same character archetypes and symbols, Martin proves that by playing around with and subverting them there's still a lot of life and appeal left in them. So there is no dark lord waiting in Mordor with the serial numbers filed off here. There are no shining heroes either - many of the characters are deeply unpleasant, and even the characters with more heroic tendencies are far from perfect, and capable of making shocking mistakes. Magic exists - or at least, we have dragons and the zombie-like white walkers, but most of the people think they are extinct or legends.
   More than anything, though, there is a realistic focus on the feudalistic, medieval-ish setting that is the default for most Fantasy literature, and what it would really mean to live in such a society, especially for those disenfranchised by such a system. Amongst our viewpoint characters, we have Jon Snow, a bastard born to a Lord's family who is treated with contempt by his father's wife and will never be able to live the life given to his brothers and sisters born in wedlock; Tyrion Lannister, whose dwarfism mean that despite being intelligent, charming and by far the most likable character in the book he is an outcast treated with contempt by his father; and Daenerys Targaryen, a thirteen year old girl sold as a wife to the Dothraki in exchange for warriors by her vicious and power-mad brother. Experiencing the world of Westeros through their eyes strips away the romantic sheen from the age of chivalry and exposes just how harsh and difficult live could be in such times if you weren't a rich, white male (plus ca change....).
   In a lesser author so many different viewpoint characters could be confusing, (it's still helpful Martin states at the header of the chapter who's view it is), but Martin uses this device really well. It allows him to explore the fictional world through a variety of conflicting viewpoints, so we see many of the main characters, as well as things that happen, in different lights, helping to create a richly developed world. Additionally, Martin uses reminiscences or asides in one viewpoint character's chapter to set up Chekhov's guns for other characters. So for instance, when Tyrion remembers his past fascination with Aerys Targaryen's dragon skulls stored in the basement at the Red Keep in King's Landing, it tells us something about Tyrion's character, but also sets it up so that when Arya runs into 'monsters' while chasing cats we know what they are, even if she doesn't. It's an elegant way of making the text do extra work, which , in a volume this dense, is definitely appreciated.
   One of the main themes of the book is honour, and whether or not it's possible to have it in a society that doesn't really value it. This comes back round again to deconstructing the whole idea of chivalry. Many of the book's most unpleasant characters are lords and ladies, or indeed PRINCES. They show again and again that it is possible to behave in a courtly manner and still be a complete monster. I really enjoyed the chapters from Sansa's viewpoint, much as I don't care for the character. Basically she's tragically wrong genre savvy. A young girl who finds herself betrothed to the Prince, she declares herself hopelessly in love with him and is super excited about going to court and meeting noble knights like in the stories she loves. She's so blinded by her vision of how she thinks things should be it's far too late by the time she realises what is blindingly obvious to everyone else - that Prince Joffrey is spoilt, cruel and vile, and many of the Lannisters and their hangers on are not much better.

The Lannister words are "We're jerks! Except for Tyrion. He even gets to slap Joffrey. It's awesome."

   The book also questions what good honour and chivalry are, really, in the scheme of things. Following the climactic battle, Tyrion meditates on this, thinking about a knight he saw drown trying to cross a river in his full armour:

"Crossing a river at night on a crude raft, wearing armour, with an enemy waiting on the other side - if that was gallantry, he would take cowardice every time. He wondered if Lord Brax had felt especially gallant as the weight of his steel pulled him under the black water."

This cynicism extends to the narrative. This is a book in which no noble dead goes unpunished. Lord Eddard Stark, one of the few truly honourable characters in the book, reveals to Cersei Lannister that he knows her secret and is going to tell King Robert, giving her a chance to escape, when he knows that the previous man in his position was killed by the Lannisters to keep this secret. Unsurprisingly, this pretty much winds up getting him killed. Similarly, Daenerys' attempt to prevent the Dothraki warriors from raping a maegi leads to the death of her husband and her unborn son. But then this links in to how self-centred the viewpoint of even the sympathetic characters like Eddard and Daenerys are. Eddard is so bound to his honour he cannot see how his rigid adherence to it has wound up ruining other people's lives, until it's too late and his family is in danger; similarly Jon Snow is genuinely surprised to find out that his peers perceive him as a smug bully, because while he is a bastard, he was brought up in the Stark household and has the advantage of their wealth, education and training that wasn't available to his peers.
   'A Game Of Thrones' wears its Fantasy colours on its sleeve, but Martin has written SF in the past, and names many SF authors as influences. This comes through in the well-developed and convincing world building. We very much get a sense of Westeros as a real place, in some ways that almost feel SFnal. The central story, with its rival dynasties, echos Frank Herbert's Dune series as much as any fantasy narrative, and while we never get an explanation for Westeros' unusual season cycles, with summers and winters lasting many years, there's always an underlying feeling that it could be explained away in a scientific manner, like, say the aeons-long seasons in Brian Aldiss' Helliconia trilogy.
   While 'A Game Of Thrones' is thoroughly engaging, exciting and entertaining, it's not perfect. Juggling so many characters in so many different places is a tricky balancing act at the best of times, and while Martin rarely falters in this book, the strain shows in places, and it's going to be difficult to maintain the focus 'Game' has over the following six books. Trigger warning - there is a whole lot of rape in this book. For the most part, it's played for drama rather than exploitation, and is there to highlight just how bad things were for women in medieval times and that raping was just one of the things armies did after a battle was won and it was just accepted, which is of course A BAD THING. However, Martin does go to this well a lot, to the extent that the reader starts to get numb to it, and it's just something that's frequently happening in the background. I don't think this is intentional on the part of the author, but it is an issue that needs treating with sensitivity and care, rather than slapped on to garnish a battle scene to make the story seem more gritty.
   There is a sense of Diabolus Ex Machina in some of the more outlandish plot developments - things don't just go wrong, they go wrong in the most gut-wrenchingly, barkingly mad way possible. My personal favourite of these is when Catelyn Stark, on the run from the Lannisters and with Tyrion captive, goes to her sister Lysa for help, only for us to find out that Lysa is petulant, spoiled and completely insane, and that Lysa's son, heir to a powerful house and vital tactical hold, is a simpering mummy's boy still breastfeeding at the age of six. Fortunately, these are pretty evenly distributed across all the opposing factions, to the extent that in the end it kind of works out more like Texas Chainsaw Massacre, where it's just a super bad day for everyone involved. Joffrey's villainous triumph, where he executes Ned Stark, actually winds up being a woeful tactical error, leaving the Lannisters with nothing to bargain with when the Starks capture Jaime Lannister and inciting the houses of the north to swear fealty to the Starks instead. Martin's fondness for brutally killing off beloved characters rivals Joss Whedon's, and while that can give a thrilling sense that anything can happen and everything is up for grabs, it can also get off-putting. The last section of the book, with Ned Stark's shocking death and Sansa being forced to look at his severed head by an insufferably smug Joffrey, is almost unremittingly dark. However, the book ends with an image of death and rebirth, and dragons, which does make everything better. Roll on book two!