ABSTRACT
Modern fantasy is abidingly concerned with what critic John Clute terms “thinning,” by which he means “the passing away of a higher and more intense reality.” Treated like cattle the dragons ebbed and died. This is a perfect instance of Clutean thinning. The loss of the great reptiles represents, per Carnivale, a final trading away of wonder for reason. The trading away of nobility is worthy of particular attention. When they died, the dragons rendered a particular kind of practical demonstration of aristocracy impossible. Immersive fantasies are hostile to the sorts of organic, symbolic verities that characters like Kraznys cling to; the necessary reading process involves poking holes in them, hemming them in, and thinning them out. Thinning is especially evident in Martin’s work because he has, adroitly if not uniquely, adopted an approach to his world-building responsibilities that operates by depicting the rational process by which characters interpret the world around them.
