A Storm of Swords

The third volume of A Song of Ice and Fire, A Storm of Swords, is the most climactic novel in the series so far: its narrative is permeated by major events that brutally modify the political structure of Westeros and the life and personality of its inhabitants. However, the book slips up precisely on the portrayal of some of these exciting scenes.

The story still follows the war for the Iron Throne, interspersing it with Daenerys’ search for power on the neighboring continent of Essos, and with the Night’s Watch’s resistance in the north, as they try to investigate and stop the advance of some frightening supernatural creatures.

George R. R. Martin has always told his epic story with a focus on the individual, highlighting the point of view of each character, and here he adds two more to the already wide range available: Samwell Tarly’s and Jaime Lannister’s. Samwell’s point of view stands out because his sweet personality contrasts with the atmosphere of horror built by the constant appearances of the fearsome White Walkers – the mythical creatures that supposedly roam the North. His point of view sheds light on their mystery and, as a result, makes Jon’s quest more urgent and tense.

Jaime’s perspective, meanwhile, is striking in the way that it subverts the character: since the main image of the kingslayer until now originated from the Starks’ point of view, it was biased against him. So, when we finally follow the events through his eyes, we discover a character who, while still having made all the terrible things he’s made, is considerably more just and loveable than imagined, bringing a twisted notion of honor that fits perfectly into the discussion introduced in the first novel.

About old characters, one whose plot stands out is Arya, due to the introduction of a group of outlaws called “Brotherhood Without Banners” and the surprising development of the Hound, which reinforces his ambivalent nature: he can be brutal, but also caring; indifferent to violence, but fair nonetheless. Even Daenerys, who decides to return from her vacation in the desert, impresses with her most violent arc so far. She proves to be even more ruthless than before, and if her unrelenting promises to take what is rightfully hers with “fire and blood” were empty in the previous volumes – loaded primarily with hope – here they become quite real. She keeps being developed gradually, with external circumstances molding her character and influencing her actions little by little – she’s the one character in the novel that can surprise us – and here her treacherous war schemes provide a new glimpse of the kind of leader she may eventually become.

Tyrion, on the other hand, is a bit of a letdown. He was always smart enough to know when to speak and what to say, and how to identify his true enemies – essential attributes to one wanting to survive King’s Landing. However, in A Storm of Swords his personality changes abruptly: he becomes impulsive, foolish, and eager to show his worth to others, especially his father. He becomes, in short, an uninteresting pawn in the so-called game of thrones.

The magical element is also a bit heavy-handed here. In fantasy, magic must often be used with great care to avoid causing plot holes and cases of deus ex machina. The presence of Melisandre’s god in A Clash of Kings, for example, worked precisely because it was confined to her plotline, functioning as a means to differentiate Stannis from the other kings by making the atmosphere around him more sinister. In A Storm of Swords, though, the reach of the Red God spreads all over Westeros, leading to some questionable events. Even resurrections happen, which never fail to seem arbitrary, leaving the reader – and even some characters – to wonder why magic can make some people come back to life but not others. Actions that surround the Red God often arouse questions like these, and because they are never answered, they can hamper the impact of some of the events and twists.

Nonetheless, it remains interesting to observe the parallel between magic and honor that is reinforced in A Storm of Swords. It is always the characters who are the most connected to honor who are surrounded by the most powerful forms of magic. Stannis, with his draconian vision of justice, has Melisandre by his side. The Night’s Watch, sustained by honor, is tasked with defending Westeros from the supernatural. The Starks have direwolves, which even leave their side in moments of doubt: Grey Wind, when Robb breaks his vow and falls in love with a woman that is not related to Walder Frey; Ghost, while Jon is also divided between love and duty; and even Lady suffered the consequences of Sansa’s lie in A Game of Thrones. Meanwhile, the Lannisters – especially Cersei, who could not care less about honor – deny the existence of magic and act with scorn and suspicion towards anyone who claims otherwise. With Daenerys, we have a mysterious figure related to honor becoming her knight and, in a previous volume, her brother’s inability to resist fire as other examples. In short, there are several parallels in the series to discuss the ambivalence of honor: it can represent a political weakness, but also be the greatest strength of its bearer. Both concepts are shed by the same light, being treated as ancient and noble forces that can become a double-edged blade if managed carelessly.

But let’s put magic aside for a moment, for A Storm of Sword is also the novel with the most battles and wars in the series so far. Martins’ prose, however, struggles to make them exciting: the events surely are impactful, but the way they are conveyed doesn’t live up to the build-up. Martin can prepare brilliantly all the pieces leading to a battle, making us understand the intricate circumstances of the fight and even care for the combatants, but at the moment of the actual frenzy, he describes the raids, the charges, and the assaults with the same cadence with which he describes Cersei’s breakfast. The big battles, so present in Jon’s climax, are minutely detailed to the detriment of pacing.

Even singular duels are a bit anticlimactic. The best example is the fight between the Hound and the leader of the Brotherhood. Lord Beric is introduced as a sinister man who is clearly confident in the outcome of the duel, while we are already familiar with the Hound’s brutality and battle prowess. They face each other, get ready, and when the battle actually starts not only we are limited to blades “screaming through the air” but also with passages such as “clang and clang, and the big oaken shields took blow after blow after blow”. We don’t visualize the battle, only hear its sounds. It would be great if this strategy served a narrative purpose – maybe reflecting Arya’s shaken perspective –, but “sound” is all over the place in A Storm of Swords, frequently appearing in climactic events. If sometimes it is indeed effective (one character dies with a “sickening crunch,” for example, which heightens the violence), sometimes it just robs the event of its impact (another one dies after coughing, “kof kof kof kof”). But the apex of this problem is certainly the scene in which Hodor (“Hodor!”) throws a stone down a well and Bran stops to ponder whether the noise it made was more of a “gulp” than a “splash”.

However, A Storm of Swords doesn’t survive only on its epic battles, since it also contains a large share of betrayals, revelations, and tense twists – now emblematic elements of the series. In this field, Martin fares a bit better. The events, when personal, bloody, and ruthless (like assassinations and weddings), are much more impactful than the battles. Some of the revelations, however, although coming at the right time – a few more books and no one would care or remember anymore –, are a mixed bag. Most work well, giving a different perspective to old events, but others sound artificial. One revelation related to the origin of a certain dagger, for example, is a bit coward, since it never gives the character in question a chance to explain his motives, leaving the reader only with some loose conjectures.

A Storm of Swords is the novel in which the series reaches its apex. It is its most grandiose and ambitious volume so far, completely changing the board for the following novels. But it’s also flawed, with its arbitrary use of magic and problematic “musical” battles. Therefore, with so much going on, it is only natural that the great discussion of the series changes once again. If A Song of Ice and Fire first problematized the notion of honor and then proceeded to discuss the legitimacy of power, now the theme is much more intense: Valar Morghulis. All men must die.

December 04, 2018

Originally published in Portuguese on March 11, 2015.