From my pre-teen years through early adulthood, I mainly read historical fiction. My favorites were James Michener, Herman Wouk, James Clavell, Gary Jennings, and John Jakes. Eventually, however, I started to run out of books.
Many books in this genre were fairly long, and for the good writers, it took them a while to research and write. I was also running into the regrettable problem that they were starting to die. I was looking for something else to read, something to bide the time until a new generation of historic writers came forth, or those still live produced more books.
A friend of mine handed me The Hobbit. I was wary at first. I'd never had much interest in the fantasy genre. It wasn't real afterall, and I was a History major. Still, I trusted my friend, and I read it. Once I finished that, my friend gave me The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings, and I ripped through that and the other two books of that classic series. I was hooked.
Then I devoured R.A. Salvatore, Terry Brooks, Terry Goodkind, Dennis L. McKiernan, David Eddings, and, of course, Robert Jordon. I devoured duologies, trilogies, and massive series. Eventually, after the turn of the century, I picked up A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin.
It was more political and adventure, and less magic, but it was brilliant. I couldn't put it down. A Clash of Kings was next, then A Strom of Swords. I waited anxiously until A Feast of Crows came out, then a while longer for A Dance with Dragons.
Then for some reason, I stopped reading this series. I just never had the chance to take it up again. Of course, I got caught up in the TV series, Game of Thrones, and it was terrific. One thing led to another and I just never picked up The Winds of Winter.
Will I EVER get around to reading The Winds of Winter?
Now, it's 13 years later, and for whatever reason, I still haven't read this book. In some ways, I wonder if I ever will. Through the TV show, I feel the story has been told. I know how it ends. As good as the show was, the books were still way better, but part of the excitement of a good read is the anticipation of what is going to happen next.
It goes without saying that I've not read the seventh and final installment of A Song of Fire and Ice series, A Dream of Spring either.
I have to decide if I am willing to accept the show's ending as canon. I assume it was close to the source material. At this point, I'm not even sure if the interest to read them still exists.
I know it is pretty hard to believe that after 13 years, and an eight-season television season, I still haven't read The Winds of Winter or A Dream of Spring, but here we are. In all honesty, I'm not sure I ever will.
This piece of satire is brought to you by the endless wait George R. R. Martin has given us for The Winds of Winter.