Here's where Martin decides he is going to live forever and slows the plot down to a crawl. At this pace, he can crank out another dozen or two books and be sitting pretty in the cat bird seat, by the time he is 150. I think he must have taken a bet in which someone dared him to write the next book without any of the story's most beloved characters, and at the same time introducing a slew of characters no one ultimately cares a whit about. Crows dine on carrion, and that's what the plot lines here amount to.
Disappointed.
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