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Women in Westeros

Feminist Narrative in George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones


Prior to his appearance in season six of Game of Thrones, actor Ian McShane described

the hit fantasy series as “only tits and dragons” (qtd. in Majka). This sentiment – that Game of

Thrones is nothing but a sexist, superficial assault on our culture – is one shared by many.

Notably, however, the most vocal proponents of this belief often have very little experience with

the cultural phenomenon themselves. And, perhaps even more tellingly, those who do are almost

guaranteed to have watched the television series rather than have read the novels. Because of the

many character and plot differences between the show and the books, this distinction is

incredibly important and serves as the foundation of this study.

The purpose of this analysis is to examine how author George R.R. Martin creates his

own version of feminism in the Game of Thrones book series through construction of female

characters and a writing style which disrupts the traditional masculine narrative. Since Game of

Thrones covers easily over 5,000 pages, I will focus on one specific family and its female

members – the Stark women – in an effort to provide a more comprehensive analysis. While the

series does contain noticeable elements of the male gaze, Martin’s unique development of a set

of female characters breaks ground for a new era of feminist storytelling through construction of

distinct female character types and rotating perspectives.

The rationales for this study are threefold. First, there is a distinct lack of scholarly

research into this subject. Game of Thrones is a recent phenomenon, and as such, it has not yet

received the same degree of attention as some of its fictional counterparts. Indeed, the few

existing in-depth analyses of Game of Thrones occur within popular, rather than scholarly,

outlets and focus almost exclusively on dialogue and scenes unique to the television series (e.g.,

Garber 3). Making this distinction between the books and the television series is vital to

recognizing differences between media, as well as fully understanding Martin’s original work.
More extensive analysis of the series, and specifically its feminist implications, will contribute

greatly towards increasing our understanding of said literature.

Moreover, this analysis has the potential to give us insight into how Game of Thrones

encourages audiences to behave. In his article “Literature as Equipment for Living,” scholar

Kenneth Burke argues that we use rhetoric to guide our daily lives. While he begins by

demonstrating this concept through examples of proverbs, Burke extends his application to other

literature as well, arguing that even “the most complex and sophisticated works of art [can]

legitimately be considered somewhat as ‘proverbs writ large’” (Burke 296). While applying this

theory to fantasy novels may initially appear ill-conceived given that we are not troubled by

monsters, evil wizards, or other explicit issues in these books, the relevance of his argument

exists at a formal level. Essentially, even rhetoric dealing with fictional problems contains

themes and messages directly applicable to reality – for example, themes of cyclicity or death

(Brummett 110). Despite the books’ obvious fantasy vehicle, Game of Thrones has practical

applications of this nature. Martin is “arguing for the real-world relevance of a series whose plots

revolve around ice-zombies and dragons. And…creating a series that exists not just for

entertainment value, but also to be discussed, and slogan-ed, and memed” (Garber). A deeper

understanding of how the Game of Thrones book series constructs and portrays its female

characters allows us to make connections to our own world and to assess how the series might

influence its readers.

Finally, this study counteracts the all-too popular belief that Game of Thrones is nothing

but incest pornography. The issue of female representation in the series has become increasingly

controversial; Game of Thrones “seems to invoke particularly polarized claims that it either is a

feminist text, or that it is extremely antifeminist and oppressive to women” (Ferreday 4). The
majority of responses on this subject fall in the latter camp (Ferreday; Garber; Zimmerman). This

study will hopefully provide enough of a comprehensive analysis to demonstrate that this issue is

a great deal more complex than it is usually understood.

I will begin this analysis by providing some cultural context for Game of Thrones itself,

discussing both the reception of the series and a brief outline of the story’s content. I will then

discuss feminist ideological criticism before moving to an extensive analysis of the Stark women

throughout the narrative.

Feminist Criticism and Feminist Narrative

Everyone has their own understanding of what feminism is. For this study, it is defined

simply as the effort to change existing power relations between men and women (Foss 142).

Because feminism deals with a hegemonic or ubiquitous ideology, feminist criticism is a form of

ideological criticism. Feminist critique challenges the ways in which the “status quo of unequal

power relations is maintained,” emphasizing how a message reinforces a defaulted masculinity

(Hart and Daughton 284). In other words, it assumes that traditional acts, literature, and criticism

are inherently androcentric or male dominated.

Female characters are often purposely underdeveloped to reinforce hegemonic

masculinity. For example, the 2010 film Black Swan “romanticizes the patriarchal construction

of femininity as mere reflection” through the construction of a feminine protagonist defined by

her passivity and deference to male authority (Fisher and Jacobs 3). The protagonist, Nina, is

entirely at the whim of her ballet director until the end of the film – at which point, she is driven

to stab herself in the stomach. Furthermore, she is constantly criticized for being too prudish,

innocent, and frigid (Fisher and Jacobs 4). Feminist narratives, meanwhile, disrupt this

traditionally androcentric rhetoric. In these stories, we often see strong female characters who do
not fulfill female gender stereotypes and thus overthrow conventional femininity. In best-selling

Indian author Nayantara Sahgal’s novel The Day in Shadow, for instance, she creates a

principled female protagonist fighting to escape an abusive marriage in a patriarchal society. The

character, Simrit, wants to land on her own feet, and her longing for freedom and individuality

drives the storyline (Selvi 170). How female characters are developed, and the roles they are

given within a story, are enormous indicators of a message’s ability to perpetuate or disrupt

conventional androcentricity.

Character development and content aside, conventional androcentricity can also be

undermined through writing style and novel structure itself. The concept of the ‘male gaze,’

outlined neatly by Sonja and Karen Foss in their treatment of Garrison Keillor’s radio

monologues, essentially proposes that the construction of a male protagonist plays to a masculine

spectator who identifies with them (2). This indicates an implied androcentricity, or defaulted

masculine perspective, which often goes unaddressed. In contrast to their male counterparts,

female characters are usually positioned as the object of the gaze, displayed for the enjoyment of

men. This forces female audiences either to position themselves as a “passive recipient of male

desire or as a viewer of another woman who is a passive recipient of male desire” (Foss and Foss

410). The rotating, third-person writing style that George R.R. Martin uses in Game of Thrones

is immensely disruptive to this androcentric standard.

George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones

George R.R. Martin published A Game of Thrones on August 1, 1996. Although Martin

intended the book to be the first of a trilogy, he had no idea the kind of commotion A Song of Ice

and Fire would receive. A Game of Thrones—or Game of Thrones—received little to no public

attention prior to its release, despite Martin’s frequent trips to publicize it at bookstores and
libraries across the country. Now, he has sold over 70 million copies of the series worldwide

(Flood). Not only is a hit HBO show based on his work, but it has become so popular that said

show is advancing through the plot faster than his actual books (Garber). Martin is now fighting

against his own hype, desperately trying to keep up with expectations – and he is performing

spectacularly.

Game of Thrones is set in a fictional medieval land called Westeros. Surrounded by the

arctic, sea, and neighboring lands, the kingdom is fractured, divided by power struggles among

noble families. While an incredible number of bloodlines populate Westeros, the family that this

study focuses on – the Starks – is of particular importance. The Starks are a Northern family;

they are the heroes, fighting not only to defend their family and land, but for honor as well

(Martin, A Game 36).

While Martin wrote his novels in third person, each chapter takes the point of view of a

different character through third person. Several characters recur throughout the novel as well,

including Arya, Catelyn, and Sansa Stark. Martin’s rotating perspectives provide unique insight

into the complexities of each character and thereby allow for exponentially expanded character

development.

The classic criticism of Game of Thrones television show is that it sexualizes and

objectifies women, with some even claiming that the program glorifies sexual violence. Amy

Zimmerman, entertainment correspondent for The Daily Beast, writes, “It does seem that the

show's women are more oppressed, weak, and petty than their male counterparts - nor does it

escape critics' notice that the strongest females on the show appear to be those who have

suppressed their femininity and gender identities altogether” (1). And such elements do

undeniably exist, not only in HBO’s series but in Martin’s novel, as well. In both venues,
Daenerys Targaryen’s brother sells her gets literally sold to a tribal leader, nameless and

countless women are raped, and prostitution and brothels permeate the scene. Such criticism,

however, neglects the complexities afforded to the majority of Game of Thrones’ female

characters, particularly in the books. Additionally, the suppression of femininity that critics like

Zimmerman reference is based on an established expectation of what femininity should look like

– when in actuality, the fantasy series’ representations of women work to overthrow that

hegemony.

While acts of sexual violence toward women do occur throughout the book series, an

equal number of acts of empowerment also occur. Late in the series, the northern families

appoint bastard son of Ned Stark and unofficial member of the Stark family, Jon Snow, as King

of the North. In what is essentially a medieval press conference, Snow shares his strategy to fight

wars on multiple fronts. “Everyone age 10 to 16 will drill daily with spears, pikes, bow, and

arrow,” he tells his assembled fighters, to which one of his generals – Lord Glover – replies that

it is about time they teach their boys to fight. The reason this exchange matters is because while

it sounds like stereotypical dialogue, in this case, it becomes more. “Not just the boys,” Snow

replies. “We can’t defend the North if only half the population is fighting” (Martin, A Dance

572). How the heroic? male characters of Game of Thrones treat their female counterparts is a

large part of what makes the series’ feminist spin so compelling, and is an element often

overlooked by those highlighting violent content.

There is undeniably an equalizing element to Game of Throne’s violent content, as well.

Women are not spared from backstabbing or conflict, and this is in itself an embrace of feminist

philosophy. George R.R. Martin himself is fully aware of this aspect of his story, telling his

audience that to him, “Being a feminist is about treating men and women the same. I regard men
and women as all human – yes, there are differences, but many of those differences are created

by the culture that we live in” (qtd. in Majka). Martin chooses to include elements of traditional

sexualization and objectification not to uphold a customary masculine perspective, but to

underscore the differences and complexities in his female characters. This humanizes them in a

way that not many other series do.

Feminist Narrative in A Game of Thrones

Few literary works have as many influential female characters as Game of Thrones.

Women’s roles in fantasy novels are traditionally limited to a few, vaguely defined characters; in

Game of Thrones, on the other hand, females dominate the plot. Starks aside, there are at least

three major female characters worth noting: evil queen Cersei Lannister; freedom fighter and

heir to the throne, Daenerys Targaryen; and cunningly manipulative matriarch, Olenna Tyrell.

This sheer proliferation of feminine personas in Game of Thrones suggests a predisposition for a

feminine narrative, an implication which is reinforced by further analysis of specific individuals

in the series.

Types of Female Characters

The Stark women are perhaps the best set of female characters to analyze simply because

of the sharp contrasts in their personalities and appearances. The youngest daughter, Arya, is a

strong-willed and tomboyish figure who defiantly bucks all traditional notions of femininity.

Catelyn Stark is the matriarch of the family, a strong and competent force to be reckoned with

despite her conformity to traditional gender traits. Sansa, the eldest daughter, is essentially a

living embodiment of feminine stereotypes and expectations such as domesticity and passivity.

She serves as a perfect foil to her sister. Through observing these three distinct types of female
characters, we are able to gain a better understanding of the ways in which George R.R. Martin

constructs female characters which fit or upset traditional androcentric standards.

Arya. Arya is the youngest Stark daughter. She does not get along with her sister Sansa in

the slightest, and is the butt of constant criticism by those around her for her strong resistance to

traditionally feminine expectations and tasks. This becomes evident as early as the first book in

the series, when Arya is comparing her own needlework to her sister’s. In a segment written

from Arya’s perspective, she laments, “It wasn’t fair…Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She

wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells” (Martin, A Game

70). Throughout these introductory chapters, Martin begins his commentary on androcentric

culture by establishing a sharp contrast between the two girls through emphasis on their distinct

performance of traditionally feminine duties.

Importantly, Martin does not use Arya’s lack of traditional femininity to write her

character off; instead, she discovers her own innate abilities later in the series – and they are

nothing like her sister’s, for Arya inverts gender norms. When Arya’s father catches her playing

with a short sword – gifted to her by her older brother – he chooses to encourage the behavior

rather than forbid it, setting her up with a professional swordsman for lessons. While her

instructor insists on calling her “boy,” which might be seen as reinforcing gendered occupations

and skill sets, he also compares sword fighting with dancing. “This is the bravo’s dance, the

water dance, swift and sudden,” Arya’s instructor tells her (Martin, A Game 225). This naming is

a subtle inversion of gender norms, as dancing is more commonly associated with femininity

than masculinity. Arya also calls her sword “Needle,” which is another ironic use of naming

(Martin, A Game 98). Associating an exclusively masculine object with a feminine activity again

inverts traditional gender expectations, almost equalizing the playing field by illuminating an
often overlooked androcentricity – that only men are able to carry or use weapons of war and,

therefore, hold power.

Arya’s character arc is a unique one in that it is defined by her own control and decisions,

rather than the whims and actions of the men around her. Lost in the commotion caused by the

king’s death, she seeks refuge in a neighboring country. Taken in by an organization of assassins,

Arya learns how to fight, to disguise herself, and – most importantly – to kill (Martin, A Feast

722). This completes her performance of masculinity, as it gives her a position by and large

reserved for men. In this way, Martin develops her character in distinct opposition to traditional

feminine characters and upsets androcentric notions of femininity often reinforced in literature

and other popular culture messages.

Catelyn. Catelyn Stark is the family matriarch and a decidedly more multi-faceted

character than Arya. Her influence in the kingdom begins much later than her male counterparts,

and at the beginning of the novel she greatly conforms to the patriarchal society around her.

Catelyn’s initial involvement with the Starks began in her childhood, when she fell in love with

their eldest son. When he died, Catelyn’s father married her to the next in line – Eddard Stark –

in order to bring the two powerful families even closer together (Martin, A Game 24). Despite

this arranged marriage, however, Catelyn “had [still] come to love her husband with all her

heart” (Martin, A Game 66). Catelyn’s distinct lack of control over her fate, and her passive

acceptance of an arranged marriage, reinforces androcentric views of gender expectations and

dominance.

Shortly after this is revealed, however, Catelyn demonstrates quite different traits when

she kidnaps Tyrion Lannister whom she blames for crippling her son. She risks her life to travel

miles on horseback, alone, and in doing so shows an independence and confidence not normally
associated with traditionally feminine characters. Moreover, once Catelyn has Tyrion “bound

and helpless,” she takes him to her sister for judgment (Martin, A Game 360). The act of

capturing another individual is overwhelmingly associated with masculinity, rather than

traditional femininity. Catelyn also assumes a decidedly feminist stance in her decision to bring

Tyrion to another female character, rather than her husband; not only does Catelyn act

independently of her spouse, but also she demonstrates her belief that women can be wise

adjudicators (Martin, A Game 292).

George R.R. Martin’s reputation rests on his willingness to kill off any character,

regardless of previous involvement or action. As members of the Stark family fall and disappear,

the title of “Lord” falls on Catelyn’s eldest son, Robb. Rather than rule for him, or pressure him

into certain actions, Catelyn defers to him. Recognizing that her interference would be a threat to

his perceived authority, Catelyn takes on a decidedly more advisory role (Martin, A Game 598).

While this act of capitulation plays to cultural male dominance, the motivation behind it – her

knowledge of politics and public perception – allows us to understand Catelyn’s character as

intelligent rather than merely obedient. In this way, Martin again bucks the traditional

construction of shallow and submissive female characters in favor of developing a personality.

Catelyn’s character is also unique in its sharp and sudden changes throughout the series.

When she and Robb are murdered and their entire army massacred at the now infamous Red

Wedding, everything becomes incredibly uncertain. Since there are no more sections in the rest

of the novel written from her perspective, Catelyn is understood to be dead – until, in book four,

she is reintroduced as Lady Stoneheart (Martin, A Feast 914). Mystically brought back to life,

she is seemingly devoid of compassion; her only goal is to wreak havoc and to murder anyone

and everyone involved in her family’s destruction. “She wants her son alive, or the men who
killed him dead,” Lady Stoneheart’s translator tells us (Martin, A Feast 914). This further

complicates Catelyn’s character, providing her with a depth not often afforded to females in

fantasy novels. Whereas once complicit in perpetrating toxic femininity, albeit with a few minor

saving graces, she is now causing havoc and murdering with the same ferocity as her male peers.

Whereas Arya directly challenges conventional gendered expectations, Catelyn is more

complicated. She performs behaviors unconventional for traditionally feminine characters, but all

in service to her sons and husband. She simultaneously breaks free from gender roles while also

remaining firmly grounded in her sex.

Sansa. Sansa Stark is Catelyn’s eldest daughter and the character who conforms most

closely to traditional femininity. As illustrated by Arya’s internal dialogue, Sansa fulfills

society’s ideal of perfect femininity. She can dance, sew, is physically attractive, and is

particularly inclined towards marriage and domesticity (Martin, A Game 70).

But more importantly, Sansa exerts absolutely no control over her fate. She is first told

she is to be married to Prince Joffrey, a prospect that initially excites her incredibly. As Martin

writes in an early chapter from Sansa’s perspective, “Sansa already looked her best…It was a

great honor to ride with the queen, and besides, Prince Joffrey might be there. Her betrothed. Just

thinking it made her feel a strange fluttering inside” (Martin, A Game 140). When Eddard Stark

dies, however, the queen deems her unfit to marry Joffrey. Instead, the throne keeps her hostage

for a time before arranging her marriage to Tyrion Lannister. While the two do, in fact, get

married, the union is short lived due to accusations of Tyrion’s involvement in Joffrey’s murder.

Sansa escapes the capital with Petyr Baelish, also known as “Littlefinger,” who convinces her to

leave with him, but she then must live another woman’s life, afraid of being discovered and

captured (Martin, A Dance 472). The most distinct feature of these proceedings is Sansa’s
passivity. Everything happens to her, nothing is ever caused by her or defined by her actions.

Sansa is reduced almost entirely to a submissive supporting character, defined by her

complacency and fulfilment of traditional feminine ideals.

Sansa’s character is necessary to highlight the issues with female representation in the

fantasy genre. Despite initial pity, her deference to anyone claiming authority makes her an

almost despicable figure and provides the perfect contrast to Arya and Catelyn. Martin uses

Sansa to identify the problems with classic depictions of women, which is critical to his broader

feminist theme.1

Shifting Narrative Perspectives

George R.R. Martin’s intense concern for his female characters’ development is

facilitated by his writing style. Through rotating third-person character perspectives, Martin

allows his readers to grasp the inner motivations and thought processes of all his characters –

including women. Take, for example, our previous discussion of Catelyn Stark’s deference to her

son Robb. Told from the perspective of a male protagonist, this scene would epitomize the

stereotypical feminine passivity and spectatorship of which Foss and Foss warn. Instead, we

understand Catelyn’s silence as the result of her political knowledge. Martin takes care to make

this explicit, writing, “Catelyn wanted to run to him, to kiss his sweet brow…But here in front of

his lords, she dared not. He was playing a man’s part now, and she would not take that away

from him” (Martin, A Game 598). This perspective turns what would traditionally be a

reinforcement of androcentricity into a challenge to the male gaze and so allows us to appreciate

Catelyn as an independent character.

1
It is worth noting that in the television series, Sansa eventually develops into a competent and politically-ingenious figure. This
evolution, however, primarily happens long after the show diverges from the books, and so is irrelevant to my analysis.
Martin remains mindful of this element of his work throughout the series. When Sandor

Clegane essentially kidnaps Arya in the third book, she is taken to briefly live anonymously in a

rural village. While this is a loose parallel of her sister Sansa’s storyline, the difference here is

evident through Arya’s narrative. Martin writes, “Some of the women tried to put her in a dress

and make her do needlework…But she was having none of it” (Martin, A Storm 891). Arya can

not only make her own choices, but is able to directly show her inner dialogue and reactions

because of Martin’s rotating perspective.

Even Sansa benefits from this structure. Early in her childhood, a wandering singer took

refuge in Winterfell. When he left, Sansa’s father promised her many more performances by

wandering singers. Told from Eddard Stark’s perspective, or really any other character’s, this

would be the end of the story. Because this section is narrated by Sansa herself, albeit in third

person, we learn that she “Prayed, asking them to send a…singer, young and handsome” (Martin,

A Feast 206). Albeit not as dynamic or profound as her sister’s or mother’s agency, Sansa’s

actions here do give her character a sense of depth that would not be present otherwise.

Shifting narrative between characters creates a unique opportunity for character

development, which is critical to Martin’s elimination of the male gaze throughout A Game of

Thrones. Martin himself has made constant, explicit efforts to discuss this process and establish

his female characters as functional, emotive, competent individuals. As he makes sure to point

this out in interviews:

Some women hate the female characters. But importantly they hate them as people,

because of things that they’ve done, not because the character is underdeveloped. Male or

female, I believe in painting in shades of grey. All of the characters should be flawed,
they should all have good and bad, because that’s what I see. Yes, it’s fantasy, but the

characters still need to be real. (qtd. in Majka)

The key way in which Martin develops the female characters is through his use of rotating

perspectives. In other words, Martin interrupts the male gaze by sharing the female characters’

viewpoints. Treating women only as passive or submissive objects for male characters to interact

with becomes entirely more difficult when the audience is privy to their emotional state, thought

processes, and motivations. Martin’s distinctive novel structure does this successfully, essentially

eliminating the threat of androcentricity by ensuring his female characters have just as much of a

voice as his male characters.

A Game of Thrones in Contemporary Society

Game of Thrones is a worldwide phenomenon. The series has been turned into a hit

television show, multiple video games, and has even been caricatured through comedy songs. As

always, however, attention comes with consequences. In this case, those consequences include

condemnation of the television series for its portrayal of women and traditional gender norms.

See comments below

This argument is characterized by a distinct lack of analysis, as well as a failure to

separate the television and book series. That Game of Thrones is defined by the objectification

and sexualization of women could not be farther from the truth. Rather, the fantasy book series

disrupts traditional androcentricity and eliminates the male gaze through careful character

development and rotating perspectives. To those who continuously posit that Game of Thrones is

plagued by unnecessary sexuality and violence, Martin says this:


If I’m guilty of having gratuitous sex, then I’m also guilty of having gratuitous violence,

and gratuitous feasting, and gratuitous description of clothes, and gratuitous heraldry,

because very little of this is necessary to advance the plot. But my philosophy is that plot

advancement is not what the experience of reading fiction is about. If all we care about it

advancing the plot, why read novels? We can just read Cliffs Notes. (qtd. in Majka).

Popular culture literature and rhetoric have significant influence over their audience. The

themes and messages present in many of these works have real-world applications, and –

whether consciously or not – present us with potential frames and action plans for our own lives.

Literature like Game of Thrones exists for more than entertainment value, it makes a valuable

commentary on our world and how we interact with it.


Works Cited

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Burke, Kenneth. The Philosophy of Literary Form: Studies in Symbolic Action. Isha Books,

2013.

Ferreday, Debra. “Game of Thrones, Rape Culture, and Feminist Fandom.” Australian Feminist

Studies, vol. 30, no. 83, Mar. 2015, pp. 21-36. Academic Search Complete,

doi:10.1080/08164649.2014.998453.

Fisher, Mark, and Amber Jacobs. “Debating Black Swan: Gender and Horror.” Film Quarterly,

vol. 65, no. 1, 2011, pp. 58-62.

Flood, Alison. “Game of Thrones: An Epic Publishing Story.” The Guardian. 5 Aug. 2016,

www.theguardian.com/books/2016/aug/05/game-of-thrones-an-epic-publishing-story-

george-rr-martin. Accessed 5/6/18.

Foss, Sonja K. Rhetorical Criticism: Exploration and Practice. 5th ed. Waveland, 2018.

Foss, Sonja K., and Karen A. Foss. “The Construction of Feminine Spectatorship in Garrison

Keillor’s Radio Monologues.” Quarterly Journal of Speech 80 (1994): 410-426. Print.

Garber, Megan. “Lyanna Mormont and the Slogan Feminism of Game of Thrones.” The Atlantic,

30 July 2017, www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/07/game-of-thrones-

season-7-feminism/535110/. Accessed 3 May 2018.

Hart, Roderick P., and Suzanne M. Daughton. Modern Rhetorical Criticism. 3rd ed. Pearson,

2005.

Majka, Katie. “Fight Like a Lady: The Promotion of Feminism in Game of Thrones.” Winter is

Coming, FanSided, 13 May 2017, winteriscoming.net/2017/05/13/fight-like-a-lady-the-

promotion-of-feminism-in-game-of-thrones/. Accessed 5/6/18.


Martin, George R.R. A Game of Thrones. Bantam Books, 1996.

---. A Storm of Swords. Bantam Books, 2000.

---. A Feast for Crows. Bantam Books, 2005.

---. A Dance with Dragons. Bantam Books, 2011.

Selvi, R. Muthu. “Feminist Perspective in Nayantara Sanghal’s Novels The Day in Shadow and

A Time to Be Happy.” Language in India, vol. 16, no. 1, Jan 2016, pp. 168-184.

Zimmerman, Amy. "The Abused Wives of Westeros: A Song of Feminism in Game of

Thrones." The Daily Beast, Apr 30, 2014. ProQuest, https://0-search-proquest-

com.dewey2.library.denison.edu/docview/1648959725?accountid=15131.

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