Storm of Swords
Just finished Storm of Swords. It was around a thousand pages. I read it like wildfire.
Listen. You might think you know me, but you don't. I am a nerd to such a terrible degree you wouldn't believe it. Would you believe me if I said I normally wear a black pea coat, dark denim jeans, black converse and a black scarf tied around my neck marching around windy, frigid Brooklyn, scowling at everyone I pass and pretending in my mind that I am Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell? I imagine I am looking for my lost dire wolf Ghost and that I've got a bastard sword strapped to my back. When I go into produce shops, bodegas, the clerks don't know what to make of me and I'm resigned to that. Because I know I am a wolf of the North and winter is coming.
I swear, I am a warg. I really do think I'm turning into a wolf. Lord help me, or better yet, the Old Gods.
I was invited out to dinner see a friend who's in from Britain for the week and another friend has offered to take me to see Shakespeare's Hamlet out in New Jersey. Christ. I just want to stalk to the other side of frozen Brooklyn like a warg, like a black cloak of the Wall, and steal A Feast for Crows from Matt's house. I know he has it. I've already spied it on his bookshelf.
Is anyone else out there familiar with The Song of Fire and Ice books by George R. R. Martin? It doesn't matter. I discovered that Mr. Martin, the author, has a livejournal that regularly updates. The topics of conversation go from presidential history, how George W. Bush is the worst president ever, the N.L.F. playoffs and the books. It's the nerdiest place on earth maybe and I feel right at home!