A Feast For Crows - George R R Martin

I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood

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A Dance with Dragons - George R R Martin

I can't say much about this book without breaking into a spoiler ridden rant that will go on for five pages, so I will just say it was awesome, it was worth the wait and bring on the Winds of Winter.

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George R R Martin

I had planned on getting to Melbourne for Worldcon this year, primarily to see George R R Martin in person. Unfortunately life intervened and this didn't happen, but I did manage to see him today when he came to Galaxy Bookshop to do a signing.

My friends and I over-estimated the fervor of the fanbase in Sydney and turned up at Galaxy half an hour before it opened to claim our position at the front of the queue. A couple of hours later the other fans started to turn up. Sitting on the floor of a bookshop for four hours is not as awkward as you would imagine.

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Dreamsongs - George R R Martin

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.

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The Skin Trade - George R R Martin (Audio Book)

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