Which book’s world would be the absolute worst to live in?
If I could choose any fictional world to live in, I should probably begin by considering the amenities.
Nice scenery? Excellent.
Charming architecture? Splendid.
A decent cup of tea within walking distance? Now we’re talking.
Which brings me rather neatly to Westeros, the world of George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire.
Have you seen the castles? The gowns? The magnificent feasts? The sweeping landscapes? One could almost imagine oneself wandering through the courtyards of King’s Landing, admiring the architecture and enjoying the sort of social calendar that would make the Royal Ascot look positively quiet.
And then one remembers the local employment conditions.
Being a king appears to be a particularly hazardous occupation. Being a queen isn’t much better. Hand of the King? I wouldn’t touch the job description with a ten-foot pole. And if someone invites you to a wedding, darling, check the guest list, inspect the exits, and perhaps have a light snack beforehand. You may not get another opportunity.
Healthcare is another concern. I haven’t seen much evidence of a thriving National Health Service in Westeros. There are maesters, certainly, but I suspect the waiting list for a replacement hand is rather longer than one might hope. As for mental health support after a dragon attack, I imagine the paperwork alone would be enough to finish you off.
And let’s discuss the weather.
Winter is coming. Apparently, it can last for years. I struggle when the British summer lasts three consecutive days without rain.
I should be absolutely no use whatsoever when faced with a season that requires a strategic stockpile of firewood and enough provisions to survive the next several chapters.
Then there’s the political situation. Everyone appears to be plotting something, marrying someone, betraying someone, or attempting to seize a throne. I can barely manage a family WhatsApp group without someone misunderstanding an emoji. I am not qualified for this level of intrigue.
Give me a quiet little cottage, a reliable heating system, a supermarket nearby, and neighbours who don’t regard poisoning me as a legitimate career move.
I can admire the dragons from a safe distance, thank you very much.
Because here’s the thing about fictional worlds: we often fall in love with them because we get to visit without having to live there. We can enjoy the adventure, admire the scenery, and become emotionally invested in the characters while sitting comfortably on our own sofas.
We can close the book whenever we please.
The people inside it don’t always have that luxury.
So I’ll leave Westeros to its kings, queens and ambitious gentlemen with swords. I’ll take my chances with ordinary life, thank you. At least here, when someone says they’re coming round for dinner, I don’t have to wonder whether I’m the main course.
Stay Fabulous,
Luce 💋
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