When you think of Margaret Atwood, dragons probably aren’t the first thing that comes to mind. The author of The Handmaid’s Tale and The Testaments is more often associated with dystopian futures and complex female characters than fire-breathing beasts. But in 2015, Atwood surprised many by penning a piece for The Guardian about the dragons in Game of Thrones. What makes this particularly fascinating is that Atwood, a literary titan known for her sharp social commentary, chose to weigh in on a fantasy series—a genre often dismissed as escapist. Personally, I think this reveals something deeper about her interests: she’s not just a writer of serious fiction but a keen observer of storytelling in all its forms.
One thing that immediately stands out is Atwood’s critique of the dragons themselves. She describes George R.R. Martin’s dragons as ‘superweapon bazookas,’ more tools of war than mythical creatures. This is a sharp observation, and it’s one that many fans might not have considered. Dragons in Game of Thrones aren’t the wise, riddling beings of Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea or the hoarding misers of Beowulf and The Hobbit. They’re weapons, plain and simple. What this really suggests is that Martin’s world is less about magic and more about power—a theme Atwood would undoubtedly find intriguing, given her own exploration of power dynamics in her work.
But what’s even more interesting is Atwood’s take on Daenerys Targaryen, the so-called Mother of Dragons. Atwood seems to admire Daenerys, calling her a character ‘we can actually approve of, more or less.’ This is where Atwood’s commentary gets personal. She draws parallels between Daenerys and legendary figures like Uther Pendragon, positioning her as a hero in a world of moral ambiguity. From my perspective, this reflects Atwood’s own fascination with strong, complex female protagonists—characters who defy expectations and challenge the status quo. It’s no coincidence that Atwood’s own heroines, like Offred in The Handmaid’s Tale or Grace Marks in Alias Grace, share this quality.
However, Atwood’s predictions about Daenerys’s fate were way off the mark. She hoped Daenerys would defeat the Night King and perhaps even marry, maybe not Tyrion Lannister, but someone worthy. Instead, Daenerys’s arc ended in tragedy, with her burning King’s Landing and being killed by Jon Snow. What many people don’t realize is that this misstep highlights a broader issue with predicting character arcs in complex narratives. Atwood, for all her brilliance, fell into the same trap many fans did: assuming Daenerys’s heroism would prevail. If you take a step back and think about it, this speaks to the unpredictability of Martin’s storytelling—a quality that both frustrates and fascinates readers.
This raises a deeper question: why did Atwood, a master of character development, misread Daenerys so completely? In my opinion, it’s because she saw Daenerys through the lens of her own protagonists—women who, despite their flaws, ultimately rise above their circumstances. Daenerys, however, was never that kind of character. Her descent into madness was a tragic reminder that power corrupts, even those with the best intentions. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Atwood’s commentary inadvertently highlights the differences between her own work and Martin’s. While Atwood’s characters often find redemption or resistance, Martin’s are more likely to face bitter, ambiguous endings.
Looking at this from a broader perspective, Atwood’s take on Game of Thrones is a reminder of how storytelling transcends genres. Whether it’s a dystopian novel or a fantasy epic, the core questions remain the same: What does power do to people? How do we define heroism? And what happens when our expectations are subverted? Personally, I think Atwood’s commentary, though flawed in its predictions, adds a layer of richness to the conversation about Game of Thrones. It’s not just about dragons or thrones—it’s about the human condition, something Atwood has spent her career exploring.
As for House of the Dragon, the Targaryen-centric spin-off, I can’t help but wonder what Atwood would make of it. Would she see it as a return to form or a missed opportunity? One thing’s for sure: her insights would be as sharp and thought-provoking as ever. In the end, Atwood’s commentary on Game of Thrones isn’t just about dragons or Daenerys—it’s about the power of storytelling to challenge, inspire, and surprise us. And that, in my opinion, is what makes it so compelling.
