"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground." - George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD
DISCLAIMER: This analysis is constructed upon my personal reaction to the book. All thoughts and opinions are my own, and I reserve the right to defend said thoughts and opinions if they are challenged. That being said, feel free to disagree with me. I don’t own you. Just don’t try and challenge my views on Sansa Stark. She’s my baby, okay? I’ll protect her at all costs. Furthermore, if you decide to read this book because of this review and end up not enjoying it, I humbly apologise. I think the book is great, but that’s a matter of opinion.
I’ve just read A Game of Thrones. I know -- in literally my last post I said I didn’t like book series’ anymore, yet the first book I decided to read this year was the 800-page opening instalment in one of the heftiest series’ in popular culture -- and although I didn’t think I would, since high fantasy isn’t my thing, I loved it. Of course, as the neighbourhood feminist, one of the things I’m most enjoying about the A Song of Ice and Fire saga is the depiction of female characters. Probably the most famous thing to ever come out of author George R. R. Martin’s mouth is “I’ve always considered women to be people” (in response to “You write women really well and really different; where does that come from?”), which has marked him as a quasi-feminist writer ever since he said it. However, I was skeptical -- the quote, while poignant, has a rather Joss Whedon-esque, I-set-the-bar-for-feminism-so-low-I-could-walk-right-over-it vibe -- but upon embarking on the series, I’ve changed my tune. Men, women, and children are all treated equally by GRRM (that is, he kills them all off with equal disregard), so in that respect, I think it’s fair to say that A Song of Ice and Fire casts a respectable rotation of ‘strong female characters’.
Of course, this is feminism, so I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t controversy around this subject. Often, the trope of the ‘strong female character’ is misread; ‘strong’ is commonly interpreted as alluding to considerable physical strength, and if that were the case, A Game of Thrones would have almost no strong female characters at all. Here’s what I consider a ‘strong female character’: a woman or girl who demonstrates character development, emotional complexity, and realistic humanistic qualities, who is written justly and written well, who is not flawless but deeply flawed and who grows because of and in spite of these defects. Physical strength is not compulsory, but it is a bonus. TL;DR: if they’re a well-written female character, they’re a strong female character. Their strength is in their storyline. The misinterpretation of the definition of a strong female character, then, originates from a misunderstanding of the difference between character, and characterisation. As a writer myself, I can vouch for this: how the character is written is vastly different to how well the character is written. Take Arya Stark, for example. Like all of GRRM’s characters, she’s well-written, but she also fits into the typical ‘strong female character’ category because she defies societal norms by nonchalantly disregarding gender roles. She’s a ‘strong female character’ because, as a person, she refuses to conform to the regimented, traditional roles of women in the contextual society. If she were to be actively concerned about oppression -- which she isn’t, because she’s 10 -- and to comment on it occasionally in her inner monologues or in dialogue with other characters -- which she doesn’t, because, I repeat, she’s 10 -- she’d basically be a perfect Action Girl (TV Tropes). Rebellious, courageous, cocksure, and suffering from a severe case of stick-it-to-da-man-niosis, Arya is not only, I’m realising as I write this, a stock-standard Gryffindor; she’s the poster child for strong female characters. And she’s 10.
But what of Arya’s older sister, Sansa Stark? Sansa is my favourite character for reasons I can’t quite explain, but I know without having to Google it that many will have misread her as a weak female character, when, in my opinion, she’s one of the strongest. It’s crucially important that we remember the difference between character and characterisation here. On the whole, Sansa is of weak character. She is quite vapid, can be astonishingly selfish, has limited capacity for complex analysis, and, spoiler alert, sells her family out in petty revenge and resultingly contributes heavily to her father’s beheading. However, she is characterised extremely well. This makes her an incredibly strong female character in my eyes, as while as a person, Sansa sees herself as nothing more than Prince Joffrey’s betrothed, born to serve no other purpose than becoming the Baratheon boy’s future wife and babymaker, GRRM certainly doesn’t see her as such. She is characterised as more than just a piece on the Lannister chess board, because Sansa Stark is made of sterner stuff than that. She’s a crucial link between the Starks and the Lannisters/Baratheons. She’s obedient and disciplined and understands the importance of the traditions Arya shrugs off, even if her understanding is rather basic (because she’s 11, man. Let her live). She also functions really well under pressure and has excellent social skills, quite a schmoozer for a kid, and although she’s simple, she sees things as they are because of this. She has a true eye, and a true heart. Something else I find really interesting about Sansa’s character is her femininity, in juxtaposition with Arya’s masculinity (forgive my cisnormativity -- it’s suited to the contextual time period of A Song of Ice and Fire). Arya is a ‘masculine’ female character -- hates dresses, loves the outdoors, prefers to sword-fight rather than sew. Sansa, then, is in every way her polar opposite. She enjoys, and thrives in, ‘feminine’ activities: sewing, dancing, wandering in the meadow with the crown prince, daydreaming about marrying the crown prince, just admiring the crown prince in general. She prefers the “traditional pursuits of a noblewoman” (A Wiki of Ice and Fire), which I think adds to the excellence of her characterisation. What she wants is marriage and motherhood, which may seem anti-feminist, but feminism embodies the idea that you can be whatever you want, be that warrior or wife or neither or both. Plus, she just wants everything to be nice. Who can’t relate to that?
One can’t talk about female empowerment in A Game of Thrones without mentioning Daenerys Targaryen. There are two reasons why Dany is one of the most famous characters in A Song of Ice and Fire and HBO’s Game of Thrones: Emilia Clark is unbelievably hot, and Dany’s character arc is quite honestly phenomenal. At the start of the book, she’s timid and docile, a young girl afraid of her psychotic brother’s unquenchable rage; by the end of the book, she’s still young and she’s still afraid, but her fear no longer controls her. If I look back, I am lost. Here, the characterisation is simply exquisite; in that sense alone, Dany is a strong female character, but wait, there’s more! Not only does Dany, like Arya, defy gender roles; she straight-up ignores them at the end of the book, in one of the most powerful and empowering scenes I’ve ever read. Yet similar to Sansa, Daenerys also places great value in being a wife and mother. She’s the middleground between the two Stark sisters, a perfect balance between masculine and feminine -- strong, confident, a loyal and just leader, but also sensitive and sentimental, even nurturing at times. She’s one of the most badass characters in the series so far, and also one of the strongest female characters because of her well-crafted character development and flawless blend of stereotypically male and female characters. To my little knowledge, she is one of GRRM’s finest works.
I don’t know if I made it obvious, but I loved A Game of Thrones. On all fronts it was a simply stunning experience, but I simply can’t get over how brilliantly executed the female characters are. Although George R. R. Martin writes most of his characters in roughly the same style, each individual narrative voice is distinctive and unique, each personality detailed and defined, and ever female character driven, whether that be by love or loathing or latent disrespect. Most importantly, the female characters are strong, both of character and of characterisation.They all, especially those mentioned above, show character development. They’re all emotionally complex, conflicted at every turn. They react in the most human way to happiness, sadness, pain, fear, and most notably, grief. They are deeply, but not irrevocably, flawed, and their strength lies not in their sword arm, but in their storyline. I’m sorry I was skeptical, Mr. Martin. Your statement may have been pretentious as hell and more than a little self-congratulatory, but you really do write women just as they are: people.
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