Occasionally over the first three seasons, and then every week since since season four, I’ve done a recap of the week’s episode of the Game of Thrones. And I have thoroughly—thoroughly—enjoyed it every single week. Not always the show so much, but having the chance to write the recap, spill my thoughts and sit back and watch the reactions.
In those recaps I’ve let fly with more pop culture references than a whole season of Gilmore Girls. I’ve experimented with different ways of retelling a story that was split across continents and characters. And I’ve indulged myself (twice) by recalling the day that I—yep, I—was on stage in London, alongside George R. R. Martin, competing against A Game of Thrones as a finalist to win the World Fantasy Award. And we both lost. So … a tie. And I guess you can now call it three times.
The comments on the recaps have provided me with fantastic reading material each week. I’ve loved seeing dozens of different points of view on the same events, More than once I’ve been jerked out of complacency on something I’ve just finished watching by a statement in the comments that has made me rethink not just my writing, but the basic nature of the events I’d seen. Sometimes I’ve disagreed. Sometimes I’ve even been angry. I have loved it.
When I was a kid, and we had only three networks, no Internet, and not a single way to record what we saw on our dino-visions, it wasn’t unusual for everyone to show up in homeroom talking about the same thing. Did you see that thing on the Six Million Dollar Man? Boy, what Fonzie did last night. I can’t believe Archie said that thing he said! But that feeling of being in community with everyone over a moment of entertainment has faded, faded, and faded over the years. It’s now such a rare thing, such a rare joy, that letting it go is near enough to anguish.
When I sit down tonight to watch the last episode of Game of Thrones, I’ll be sorry that a show I’ve enjoyed over a decade is coming to a close. Like everyone, I’ll be disappointed in how some story lines wrapped up, and I’ll be thinking about the outcome for characters I’ve become attached to over dozens of episodes. But much more than the show, I’ll miss you. I’ll miss this. I’ll miss that community.
I was actually disappointed back in the second week of this season when no one at all seemed to post anything along the lines of “what is this doing on the front page!” That reaction, always from someone who has just seemed to notice the recaps even after dozens and dozens had gone past, always intrigued and amused me. So did the ways people responded.
Please know that, even if you were that person who stopped in one week, or every week, just to say that you didn’t watch the show. Or you don’t own a television. Or to make some comment on the juvenile nature of fantasy in general. Or you came in only to mourn the brainlessness of your fellow Americans and fume about the fact that so many could be caught up watching ice zombies and dragons when there is real sh#t going down … I will miss you. You too were part of the community, part of the flavor and the substance of the reaction.
Truthfully, for me it’s better that the show end. In theory, Monday is my day off. But—and those who hate the idea that we’ve spent so much time talking about this are going to hate this even more—Game of Thrones has reliably, week in and week out, gotten more attention than any other issue. I watch each episode at least twice, the second time while pausing and taking notes. I stumble around the house Sunday night thinking about how I want to approach the plotlines and the issues. Then on Monday morning I sit down and write, often for the next six hours, about something that took only a fraction of that time to watch.
When the show is over, I can reclaim that time. I can take more weekend hikes. I can spend more time on the bees. Or the lake. Or even my own sadly neglected fiction.
I could. I suppose I will. But I will miss you guys. Tonight I’ll sit down one last time to watch. Tomorrow I will write. But I’m already feeling nostalgic.