“Well actually, in the books…” 15 differences from text to TV in Game Of Thrones

By Myles McNutt, Rowan Kaiser, Zack Handlen, Emily St. James, Sonia Saraiya  |  April 28, 2014 | 5:00am
TV Features TV
“Well actually, in the books…” 15 differences from text to TV in Game Of Thrones

There are countless differences between HBO’s television show Game Of Thrones and its source material, George R.R. Martin’s A Song Of Ice And Fire. The world of Westeros is massive and richly detailed, and famously, even Martin himself can’t keep all of his characters straight. TV is a wholly different medium from the printed page, and as the show matured, the differences between the books and the show became more pronounced. Here’s a list of the biggest ones we could think of—ones that show the relative strengths and weaknesses of each series. Consider it a primer if you haven’t read the books—or shameless pedantry, if you have.

Original characters

Although there are hundreds of characters to draw from in A Song Of Ice And Fire, the television series has nonetheless several original characters. Such characters often confounded book readers, who fervently speculate on what function a new character will have within the broader narrative. In some cases, they serve the purpose of more efficient storytelling for peripheral characters in the books, as was the case with and her tragic time in King’s Landing. In others, they’re necessary given the absence of a different character, as demonstrated with the introduction of (who cut off Jaime’s hand after was cut from the series). In the case of , however, the writers simply chose to craft an romantic story for Robb leading up to the Red Wedding, confounding fans and leading to as to why the change had been made. The simple answer, it would appear, is that the writers simply wanted to tell their own story—a trend that will likely continue, as the series moves forward and more original characters are introduced for these and other reasons.

Strong Belwas

At the macro scale, Game Of Thrones seems like a parade of grim violence and depressing outcomes, but the show makes sure that it’s damn funny as well. Almost every storyline has consistent sources of humor: the wickedly smart courtiers of King’s Landing trading barbs, Arya’s ninja badassery out in the Riverlands, Sam Tarly’s enthusiastic naïveté at the Wall, or that big guy with the funny name who carries Bran. The exception? Dany’s over-serious adventures across the Narrow Sea. In the books, that all-important fun factor is often provided by a gladiator named Strong Belwas who joins Dany’s party at the end of the second book. Belwas is large, direct, and ruled by his appetites—a sort of medieval Homer Simpson-type—but he doesn’t have very many important things to do in the story that can’t be done by others. His non-presence on the show isn’t a surprise, but it is a disappointment.

Mysteries and histories

One of the most exciting elements of reading A Song Of Ice And Fire is trying to piece together the books’ lore—a vast and complex web of unexplained mysteries, historical details, and religious prophecy. Season one of the show offered , and then worked toward resolving it: unraveling the lineage of Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella Baratheon—and by extension the death of Jon Arryn. But it can’t compete, on that front, with the dozens of unexplained stories in the books. The series has done a good job of introducing character backstory and Westerosi history in anecdotes and asides—but Martin has huge chunks of text at his disposal for things like , , “,” and will probably remain book-only delights. But Game Of Thrones worked hard to plant the seeds for other mysteries, and succeeded at pulling out the rug from under the audience more than once. Some exposition was necessarily lost, but given that, it’s impressive how much the show managed to convey to viewers.

Harrenhal

In both A Song Of Ice And Fire and Game Of Thrones, Arya Stark’s time in Harrenhal is meant to be formative; as every possible avenue of protection and support is stripped away from her, she learns some hard lessons on how to stay alive and the cost (and value) of vengeance. But those lessons come from very different hands in the book and TV show. In , Arya spends her time in the shadows of the enemy-held castle, using the “three deaths” Jaqen H’ghar owes her to bump off nearby foes. When she realizes she’s been wasting her revenge on men of little importance, she manipulates Jaqen into helping her free Northern men from the dungeons. The men take back Harrenhal, making way for the arrival of Lord Roose Bolton. Arya becomes one of Bolton’s cupbearers, and though he treats her well enough, the two form no meaningful relationship. Contrast that with in the second season of Game Of Thrones: Tywin Lannister arrives at Harrenhal soon after Arya is taken there, and, recognizing her intelligence, he makes her his cupbearer. Over the course of a handful of scenes, Tywin offers Arya a different kind of father figure, one who substitutes the cold logic of battle and power for anything resembling human emotion. It’s unexpectedly brilliant character development for both characters. By replacing Roose with Tywin, the show both helps to make Tywin more of a presence in the series, and streamlines Arya’s arc, transforming what had been a largely internal journey into something more openly dramatic, if not quite as brutal.

Combined characters

While many of the changes from book to screen are either understandable disappointments or just disappointing, the show’s success in integrating two similar characters into one has been remarkable. At best, these combinations serve two purposes: They simplify an overly complex story, and they give strong cast members more to do. The best example came in season two, when Tyrion Lannister made his sellsword Bronn captain of the City Watch. In the books, this position was given to a new character, an honorable knight named , who served as Tyrion’s ally before dying at the Battle Of Blackwater. Giving the position to Bronn gave that character more to do in the second season, and allowed for more buddy-comedy interplay between Peter Dinklage and Jerome Flynn.Another example takes place in the third season, when Melisandre captures King Robert’s bastard son Gendry to prove the power of a king’s blood. In the novels, Gendry remains quietly in the Riverlands, while a different bastard, , is Melisandre’s pawn. In combining the two characters, the show strengthens its story by allowing Melisandre to interact with Thoros of Myr and Arya Stark—thereby humanizing a difficult character. And by putting the likable Gendry in danger of being sacrificed, the scenes where she attempts to use him and Davos works to free him are given much more emotional heft.

Changing consensual sex to rape

This has already been , but in two instances, Game Of Thrones turned what was consensual sex in the Song Of Ice And Fire series into rape onscreen. In the first instance, in the show’s pilot, Daenerys no longer seduces her new husband Khal Drogo and is, instead, forced to have sex with him against her will. It’s worth pointing out that this is probably more realistic than the book’s 14-year-old cunning seductress act, but it definitely makes the ensuing grand love affair that develops between the two seem all the stranger. More problematic still is season four’s rape of Cersei by her brother Jaime. The two lovers are reunited after months apart in the season premiere, but Cersei says she’s moved on because Jaime took too long to come home. Then, in the third episode, he forces her to have sex with him beside the corpse of their dead son, unlike in the book A Storm Of Swords, where the scene is portrayed as far more tender. According to director Alex Graves’ with Alan Sepinwall, the scene was going for something more ambiguous than rape, but it certainly doesn’t play that way. (What’s more, Graves later the scene was rape to The Hollywood Reporter.) Cersei resists, but Jaime has his way. And it hurts one of the show’s most complicated characters, possibly irreparably.

“The butterfly effect”

As an adaptation in progress, this list cannot be exhaustive—in fact, it was nearly out of date before it was even published. In the fourth episode of season four, an entirely new story thread emerges: Bran, the Reeds, and Hodor are kidnapped by mutineer Karl just as Jon Snow is about to march on Craster’s Keep, which is a new development made specifically for the television show. Add to that one of the show’s original characters, Locke—posing as a new Night’s Watch recruit—tags along with Jon, eager to end the Stark line. Plus, in the episode’s final sequence, the series gives viewers a far more detailed glimpse of the inner workings of the culture of the White Walkers—who are called the Others in the books—than anything Martin offered in the novels. These changes highlight what Martin himself has called —changes that build off of previous changes to create new and altogether different storylines. It’s part of the territory with any televisual adaptation: Few changes exist in isolation, so one change is likely to create two or three more as that storyline progresses.

 
Join the discussion...