Last night I stayed up late to finish reading George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones. I don’t know why. I’ve seen the HBO show, and therefore I knew what was going to happen, and certain events were not any less traumatic on the page as opposed to onscreen. Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment. Or perhaps it’s because the books are so well written, I couldn’t help getting sucked into the sprawling, yet amazingly detailed narrative Martin has created. Last night I only meant to read a chapter before turning out the light, but it was about halfway through that chapter that I came to what I’ve come to know as the no-turning-back point. I’ve become quite familiar with this point over the years, and I know better than to try and resist it, because the no-turning-back point is when you get to a certain point in a great book where you can’t stop reading, and instead you must stay up until you’ve turned the last page, no matter how long this takes. Trying to ignore this point is futile, because I’ve long since learnt that doing so only leads to sleepless nights where your brain refuses to turn off until you invariably turn the light back on, usually somewhere around 4AM, to continue reading. As much as these moments make the day after a drowsy affair, I love them, because there’s no better feeling than getting lost in a good book. I also remember quite vividly the first time I encountered a no-turning-back book. I was six, and the book was Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
I can’t remember what caused me to pick up the book in the first place, although I have a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with a child’s glee over finding a book written by someone with the same name as me. Nevertheless, pick it up I did, and I was quickly drawn in to this story of a young pioneer family living off the land in the American frontier. In particular, the book’s detailed descriptions of making all manner of food and clothing from scratch fascinated me, because it had never occurred to my six year old self that there was ever a time when you could not simply go to the store and buy whatever you needed.
One night while waiting for my parents to call me for dinner, I curled up on my bed to read a chapter. This particular chapter was called “Dance at Grandpa’s”, and although I don’t remember exactly what it was that held me so enamoured, it quickly became clear to me that I wasn’t putting this book down anytime soon. The sky outside slowly darkened as I sat for hours becoming more and more engrossed in the story with each turn of the page. It was a magical moment, because it was in that moment that I realized the power and beauty of reading, and how books could transport you into another world and give you access to stories you never thought possible.
Needless to say, from that point on I was hooked on reading, and for the rest of my childhood you could usually find me with my nose buried in a book. Since that day I’ve devoured thousands of them; some good, some not so good, but every once in awhile I find that rare book that sweeps me off my feet, and I know that it’s only a matter of time before I hit the no-turning-back point. I look forward to these moments with an unabashed glee, not only because of the joy they bring me, but also because whenever it happens, I feel like that little six year old girl again, re-discovering the joy of reading. From Laura Ingalls Wilder to George R.R .Martin, and all the authors in between, thanks for the magic.
A Troubling New Trend
*This post is about character deaths on television, and therefore a general spoiler alert is in place for the whole post.
Killing off a major character on a television show used to be unheard of, and usually only occurred if an actor sadly passed away or if there was a salary dispute. Then along came a little show called Lost, which became a breakaway hit back in 2004, and proceeded to kill off its characters with wild abandon. There had been shocking character deaths prior to this, but no show racked up a body count of primary characters quite like Lost, and the landscape of television has never been the same. Today, even so called family shows such as Once Upon A Time kill off a character at least once a season, and while some of these plot twists can be quite effective, heartbreaking, and downright traumatic (I’m looking at you Game of Thrones), there’s a new emerging trend surrounding these deaths that is wholly detrimental to the art of storytelling. Several shows have recently embraced the notion that anyone can come back from the dead, no matter how definitive their deaths may have appeared, and the result is that these once shocking plot twists are quickly losing their story value.
Arrow was one of my favourite new shows last season, and although I still love it, this year Arrow has begun to get a bit repetitive with all of the characters that have come back from the dead. The first time it happened it was a nice twist, but by the third reappearance I barely registered a reaction, and any future deaths on this show will be greeted with a healthy dose of skepticism. Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be a much better show if it didn’t negate the emotional high point of The Avengers right out of the gate. I love Clark Gregg as Agent Coulson, but resurrecting him to lead his own TV show completely undermines what was a pretty important plot point in the film, and only serves to ruin future viewings. Finally, the recently aired third season of Sherlock ended with a tease that a character that was officially declared dead by the show’s own creators is instead making a comeback, thereby invalidating his original exit, which was quite frankly a brilliant way to go out.
There are numerous other offenders, but the problem remains the same for all, in that by letting these characters come back to life, these shows are losing their narrative suspense. Much like the common compliant among comic book readers, if no one is ever truly dead, these dramatic death scenes come off as cheap stunts used to induce shock and bolster ratings. Character deaths should be dramatic and narratively fraught, and while it is a nice twist to have someone come back from the dead every once in awhile, if it happens with every other character, the element of surprise is lost. I know many people recoil in horror when their favourite characters bite the dust (again, I’m looking at you Game of Thrones), but I enjoy the risk writers take when they do something so drastic, and I like watching the narrative consequences unfold. Take away the consequences, and all you’re left with is something hollow that feels false and unnecessary. Therefore, I know it sounds morbid, but for the sake of the story, from now on can dead characters please stay dead?