[ If you belong to the church of spoilers-must die, then please don’t continue. ]
No ifs and buts about it — this book is evil incarnate. Irrefutably 100% grade evil.
I hate how everyday, all I want to do is rush home and open its pages, dying to know what happened to Jon Snow, Daenerys, Bran, Arya, as they struggle to know the truth about what is right and wrong, and the vast gray area in between.
I hate how emotionally invested I am in this book and its characters. How with my whole heart I wanted to wring Sansa’s neck. How I found myself physically covering my eyes when Bran fell. How I loathe Tyrion but couldn’t wait to find out what he would do next. How it made me wonder how to get my own direwolf.
I hate how I get lost in this world concocted by George R. R. Martin’s mind. How he has me hanging on every word as he dishes out the minute details of how cold, sunny, rancorous, melancholy, scary, festive, and all in all frantic the Seven Kingdoms are.
I hate how it made it me restless until I finally bought the second book. And then saw that there were five books all in all. It’s going to be a long journey. I’m not in lack of good company, though.
And for all these reasons, I am positively in love with this book. If you want to throw yourself to be the slave of yet another dysfunctional relationship like mine, then I recommend you grab the book as well. It’s worth the pain, I promise.