Girls hate Game of Thrones? Really???

Apparently, girls are not supposed to like Game of Thrones, but don't tell my daughters - or me. I love Game of Thrones. Loved the books. Wish George R.R. Martin would get on with pushing that sixth one out. Love the HBO series. Plan my Sunday nights around it, in fact.

It's the series that it is being assumed by some writers that girls don't like. There's all that gross stuff - incest, torture, dirt, guys getting hands or nipples or balls cut off. All those naked women - although they've tried to balance it with a few naked men this season. At least their butts. Unlike with the women, we don't get full frontal nudity. Plus, it's a complicated story that diverges in about seven different directions - just too much for our simple little girly brains, I guess.

But the fact is that I and many other women and girls agree with Alyssa Rosenberg of Slate.com that it is "one of the most outrageously enjoyable shows on television right now." And a big part of the reason for that, as Rosenberg goes on to point out, is because of the female characters in the show. From young Arya Stark to Lady Olenna Redwynne, from Ygritte the wildling to Danaerys Targaryen the Khaleesi and (maybe) future queen, from the lady and knight Brienne to the perfidious queen regent Cersei, these are strong women, women that a viewer can develop strong feelings about.

Those who think that fantasy does not appeal to females are just dead wrong. As a female who grew up reading J.R.R. Tolkien, I'm a prime example of that and there are, no doubt, millions like me around the world. I will admit that I am picky about my fantasies, but then I like to think I'm picky about everything that I read or watch. I only have so many brain cells available and I don't want to fill them up with schlock.

George R.R. Martin does not write schlock. Game of Thrones is a rich tapestry of a medieval society in upheaval, conflict, and change. Westeros has been compared to Europe in the Middle Ages and it is a fairly apt comparison. The political machinations and maneuvering, the emphasis on being faithful to and promoting your family, roiling religious discontent, it's all there and not so different from what you would read in history books of the period. A Distant Mirror by Barbara Tuchman comes to mind.

Moreover, when translated to the TV screen, it is really a great soap opera. Women are stereotypically supposed to like soap operas, aren't they? So, why wouldn't they like Game of Thrones?

Although I have to say that if the writers of the series include one more unnecessary scene of Theon Greyjoy being mercilessly tortured, I may just have to leave the room for the duration. Give it a rest, guys. We get it already. Move on.

There are only three episodes left in this season. The series producers divided the big third book, Storm of Swords, in two and presumably will finish it up next season. I'm on pins and needles about where they will end this season. There is so much action they haven't covered yet, it is hard to see how they can get very much farther along in only three more episodes. But there are a few little details which I hope they wrap up this season and one of them is that sadistic twerp Joffrey!

Well, in three more weeks we'll know for sure. Then we girls who love Game of Thrones can begin the wait for the next season.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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