“As the champions trotted into position, Ashford Meadow grew almost still. Then a horn sounded, and stillness turned to tumult in half a heartbeat. Ten pairs of gilded spurs drove into the flanks of ten great warhorses, a thousand voices began to scream and shout, forty ironshod hooves pounded and tore the grass, ten lances dipped and steadied, and the field seemed almost to shake, and champions and challengers came together in a rending crash of wood and steel. In an instant, the riders were beyond each other, wheeling about for another pass. Lord Tully reeled in the saddle but managed to keep his seat. When the commons realized that all ten of the lances had broken, a great roar of approval went up. It was a splendid omen for the success of the tourney, and a testament to the skill of the competitors. Squires handed fresh lances to the jousters to replace the broken ones they cast aside, and once more the spurs dug deep…”
- George R.R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
I am weak. And in my weakness, I finally broke down and purchased George R.R. Martin’s A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. It sat on my shelf for a while, mocking me and my lack of self-control. I meant to continue ignoring it. But then the final episodes of HBO’s Game of Thrones came and went, and the withdrawal set in. It set in bad. I had to crack the cover; I had to stop the shakes.
I didn't want to, you see? Really I didn't.
I don’t like encouraging bad behavior. I did not want to be a part – however infinitesimally small – of goading Martin into further digressions. Like millions of others, I just want him to finish A Song of Ice & Fire, a series that I love and that has – in a very real way – broadened my view of the power of books. Before Martin came along, I never saw myself as the kind of guy who liked dragon stories. Martin made me care. He made me care very, very much.
So I read it. And it underwhelmed me. I will leave it up to you whether that was a preordained result.
***
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is a collection of three previously-published novellas concerning Ser Duncan the Tall, a seven-foot knight known as Dunk, and his squire Egg, who is more than he appears. Those novellas are The Hedge Knight, The Sworn Sword, and The Mystery Knight. All three take place roughly a century before the events of A Game of Thrones.
Though all three mini-tales have been published elsewhere, A Knight of the Seven Kingdom repackages them into chronological order, so that they read rather seamlessly as a single work. It has also been marvelously illustrated by Gary Gianni, with pen-and-ink drawings every few pages. Depending on your taste, this might add some real value.
At 355 pages, A Knight of the Seven Kingdom is a very short novel by Martin’s standards. Frankly, everything about this is below Martin’s standards.
***
The three stories are of varying quality. Hewing to generalities, The Hedge Knight is sort of an introduction to Dunk, giving us a bit of his background and character as he attends a tourney at Ashford Meadow. Maybe your mileage will vary, but as I read it, I thought to myself another tourney? After reading about the Tourney of the Hand, and hearing so much about the Great Tourney at Harrenhal, this simply didn't make an impression. This setting has been done, and done much better, elsewhere in the series.
The second novella, The Sworn Sword, is dull. It took me awhile to push through it. Dunk and Egg are in Dorne, and get involved in a minor squabble over water between two houses. If riparian rights are your thing, this story will be right in your wheelhouse. I found nothing inherently interesting about it. There wasn’t any good action, any bad sex, or any funny dialogue. Of course, if you like gleaning bits and pieces of mythology – here, there is a lot of talk of the Blackfyre Rebellion – this might be your cup of Dornish red. I’m looking for more. World building is great, as long as it’s in service of a larger storytelling purpose. Given my limits on consuming information, though, I’m not out to collect trivia on a made-up place.
The final story – The Mystery Knight – is pretty good. It is the one story that broadens the scope, and hints at real stakes. Unsurprisingly, as in many of A Song of Ice & Fire’s best moments, it is set during a wedding. At that, I will say no more.
***
I’m in the minority when it comes to A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. There is no doubt I opened these pages with more than a touch of bitterness at the long – now likely fruitless – wait for the sixth book of A Song of Ice & Fire. Leaving this aside, though, there are still some genuine issues with Dunk and Egg that are worth noting.
To begin, Dunk is an uninspired central character. He is tall, he is strong, and as drawn by Gary Gianni, he looks like Fabio. He is also dumb. Dunk the Lunk is the nickname that Dunk has bestowed upon himself. That’s a problem when we’re dealing with the protagonist, with whom we spend almost every page. He is a dullard, he is slow, he does not say intelligent things, he does not have clear thoughts. He is a plodding bore. That might be fine for a secondary character. But he’s the main attraction, without any opportunities to cut away to other viewpoints. It’s not even worth comparing the complexities and arcs taken by characters like Jaime, Tyrion, Sansa, or Arya to Ser Duncan the Tall, since they are not on the same planet in terms of depth, dimension, and charisma.
***
Next, A Knight of the Seven Kingdom is beset by lazy writing. Martin is a genius, with certain unimpeachable literary skills. A Storm of Swords is one of the best books I’ve ever read. It’s a genre-transcending classic. Bury it in the sand and wait a thousand years, and I’m sure the sentient robots who discover it will anoint it an epic of the ages. That said, when we talk about Martin as a great writer, we are not necessarily saying he is a prose stylist. He is an excellent plotter. He creates rich and layered characters. He knows how to execute an unforgettable set-piece, whether that is an unforeseen twist, an unexpected death, or a cinematic battle. Yet he relies on a lot of writerly crutches, and falls back on patterns, motifs, and phrases. You tend not to focus on these during A Song of Ice & Fire because the expansiveness of his canvas dilutes these tics. Here, in such a short work, they really jumped out. For instance, every other thing Dunk says to Egg is a variation of “I’m going to clout your ear.” Like, get another threat, dude.
**
Finally, the joy of A Song of Ice & Fire is that it is huge. It sprawls. It is like an oil slick, rapidly expanding. There are turns upon twists that are threaded into switchbacks. There are so many details. Details piled atop details. Details all the way down. And the stakes! The stakes are so high. The fate of the world, and all that.
A Song of Ice & Fire is indulgent and immersive. It wraps its arms around you in a bear hug and refuses to let you go until you acknowledge that you are living in this world, and that you can no longer tell if it is fiction. How can it be fake when its history goes back so far? You don’t get that feeling with the novellas. The novellas are trifling things. How can upstream water rights or a middling tourney compare to White Walkers? That’s a rhetorical question. They can’t.
***
At this point, we’ve been waiting so long for The Winds of Winter that it has almost become passe to complain about it. All the argument about what Martin “owes” his readers have been talked to death. Ultimately, he owes us nothing, and we owe him nothing, save the purchase price on his next project.
Furthermore, it’s hard to begrudge Martin his success. If he wants to watch the Jets, blog on LiveJournal, and go to conventions, more power to him. He’s earned a fortune that’s his to spend.
It is a shame, though. A Song of Ice & Fire is Martin’s legacy. It’s the first line on his obituary. It’ll be chiseled on his tombstone. When he is gone, it will be the thing that endures. As Tywin Lannister would tell him, it’s an accomplishment that will last a thousand years, or at least a century or two. If he completes it, that is. If he does not – it will disappear. No one remembers a story without an ending.
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is an amuse-bouche, something to chew on while the main course is finished. I found it hard to enjoy, though, when the completion of that main course is so uncertain, and as the actuarial tables start to indicate that it will never be served.