Game of Thrones, Book 3, Part 1

For some weird reason, Book 3 of Game of Thrones is split into 2 parts. So what’s the central theme of this book? There are two themes actually. The first one is building the foundation of what will follow, writes author George RR Martin in his acknowledgments:

“If the bricks aren’t well made, the wall falls down. This is an awfully big wall I’m building here, so I need a lot of bricks.”

The second theme is about how wars are fought not only on the battlefield but also by intelligence, alliances and marriages. Anyone who thinks that wars are won (only) on the battlefield is left fretting like Tyrion Lannister:

“I thought I won the bloody battle. Is this what triumph tastes like?”

One shouldn’t be too moralistic about the means, says Tywin Lannister:

“Every lord has need of a beast from time to time.”

What’s the point doing all the right things and ending up like Rhaegar, says Ser Jorah Mormont:

“Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”

War is messy, and often, everyone seems to be a frenemy, as Jon Snow says:

“You ought to thank me for killing your enemy and curse me for killing your friend.”

Regardless of the confusion, pick your enemies wisely, warns Daenerys:

“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king.”

You can say what you feel, but always act rationally, says Robb Stark:

“I know what I said, Uncle. It does not change what I must do.”

Wars are about intelligence too, says Ser Jorah Mormont:

“Clever men launch ambitious schemes.”

No one understands both brawn and brain better than Tywin Lannister:

“Some battles are won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens.”

In the monogamous world of Game of Thrones, people need to marry carefully because, hey, they marry only one person. Pick the right person, and their army will fight for you. But marry for the wrong reason (like love!) and you might as well throw in the towel, as Catelyn berates Robb Stark:

“It is swords you need, not gentle hearts. How could you do this, Robb? How could you be so heedless, so stupid?”

Later, Robb acknowledges his folly:

“I’ve made a botch of everything but the battles, haven’t I?”

Catelyn laments:

“If you had to fall into a woman’s arms, my son, why couldn’t they have been Margaery Tyrell’s? The wealth and power of Highgarden could have made all the difference in the fighting yet to come.”

An older person would have acted differently than Robb, notes Tywin:

“At that age, sense weighs for little, against lust and love.”

Jamie Lannister puts it bluntly… and accurately:

“He (Robb) won the war on the battlefield and lost it on a bedchamber, poor fool.”

For those go deep into enemy territory as spies, blending in can lead to an identity crisis, as happened to Jon Snow:

“How do I play the turncloak without becoming one?”

After a point, one can be totally disoriented in the role:

“Jon did not know that he could tell honor from shame anymore, or right from wrong.”

If all this sounds like very cynical yet practical advice, perhaps we should heed Ygritte’s words:

“All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we’ll live.”