I have television in my house once again – for a little while. This is because it was cheaper to hook up television service when we were hooking up cable internet than to pay the set-up fee. It was actually cheaper to get television, a DVR, and HBO for one month than to pay the set-up fee, and since HBO was premiering its new series, A Game of Thrones, how could I resist?
I am a huge fantasy dork, and entirely unrepentant in my love of all things fantastical. (When my three year old daughter told me the other day she wished she could be in a story – not just imagine but actually be in one – I totally sympathized.)
I squandered most of my life away reading fantasy and science fiction when I should have been reading Serious Works of Philosophy and Politics. This is one reason I’m so bad at being ideological, why my political writing is so incapable of becoming grounded in one of our contemporary political factions.
Anyways. George R.R. Martin’s books are among my very favorite. And not just my favorite fantasy – they are, quite literally, some of the best books I’ve ever read. I remember years ago – probably six or seven years ago – thinking that really I hope they never turn these into films. I hope HBO turns them into a series instead.
Well my prayers were answered, and last night the very first episode of Game of Thrones debuted on HBO. And it was wonderful. Now, maybe there will be Martin fanboys out there who hated it – if so, I have managed to avoid reading them at this point. But I found the first installment of the show absolutely pitch perfect. The sets, costumes, cinematography, casting, acting, pacing – all the components were exactly right – nothing in my imagination’s vision of the books was really shattered, except perhaps that the most excellent Peter Dinklage is too handsome to be the Imp.