For over a decade, Hollywood has been on a frantic quest to find the next Game of Thrones. From The Witcher to The Wheel of Time, studios have snapped up fantasy series left and right, hoping to replicate the cultural phenomenon that George R.R. Martin's world ignited. Yet one of the most influential series in the genre—the very books that helped shape Westeros—remains conspicuously absent from the adaptation race. Tad Williams' Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn trilogy (often considered a four-book series due to its massive final volume) has been repeatedly cited by Martin as a major inspiration. But ironically, that very connection may be what's holding it back.
On the surface, the parallels between Williams' Osten Ard and Martin's Westeros are hard to ignore. Both worlds feature a fading magic system, a looming icy threat from the north, and a low-born hero thrust into a grand conflict. The Norns of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn bear a striking resemblance to the White Walkers—both are malevolent, otherworldly beings tied to ancient folklore. Even the central throne of Osten Ard, the Dragonbone Chair, echoes the Iron Throne in both name and symbolic weight. For studio executives wary of retreading familiar ground, these similarities might feel like a dealbreaker, especially after Game of Thrones and its prequel House of the Dragon have dominated the cultural landscape.
But to dismiss Williams' work as a mere copycat would be a grave mistake. Martin himself has been clear: he wasn't copying Williams; he was inspired by the way Williams reimagined mythological concepts for a modern audience. Both authors drew from the same well—J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, Irish folklore, and the sídhe of Celtic myth—but they channeled those influences into distinct, original stories. Williams' series, published between 1988 and 1993, predates Martin's A Game of Thrones (1996) and helped pave the way for a new era of character-driven fantasy. His fusion of epic scope with intimate, human struggles showed authors like Martin what the genre could achieve.
The similarities between the two series are not just plot-deep; they extend to themes and aesthetics. Both feature magical races like the Sithi (Williams) and the Children of the Forest (Martin), who retreat from human expansion. Both use a 'soft magic' system where rules are deliberately vague, and both treat magic with a sense of horror—think of the Red Priestess Melisandre in Game of Thrones and the Red Priest Pryrates in Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn. These echoes are unmistakable, but they speak to a shared tradition rather than imitation.
Yet for all their similarities, the two series diverge in crucial ways. Williams completed his original trilogy (the final book, To Green Angel Tower, was split into two volumes) and has since written a full sequel series, The Last King of Osten Ard, which wrapped up in 2024. Martin, meanwhile, is still working on The Winds of Winter. Williams' world is also more overtly magical and mythic, while Martin's is grounded in political realism. A screen adaptation of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn could offer something fresh—a more classic, Tolkienesque fantasy with a modern sensibility—but it would need to convince audiences that it's not just Game of Thrones with different names.
In the race for the next big fantasy hit, studios have often overlooked the books that started it all. As House of the Dragon continues to prove, there's still an appetite for complex, character-driven fantasy. But until executives are willing to look past surface-level similarities, Williams' masterpiece may remain the one that got away—a story too close to the throne for its own good.
For fans of inventive world-building, other fantasy series with unique magic systems offer plenty of alternatives. But for those who want to see where Martin got his inspiration, Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn is a must-read—and a reminder that sometimes the most influential stories are the hardest to adapt.
