Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 89
June 20, 2014
Great bargain for Game of Thrones e-book
My Facebook friend, Tina, posted this on another Facebook page and I wanted to share it here, for it is a great bargain ($4.95) for those who do not have Game of Thrones on their Kindles. Sadly, only American readers can take advantage of it.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B000QCS8TW/?...
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B000QCS8TW/?...
Pull of the Yew Tree--last chance
I just wanted to remind everyone that time is running out to enter the book drawing on my blog and win a free signed copy of Pauline Toohey’s Pull of the Yew Tree, which is set in 15th century Ireland; it revolves around the powerful Fitzgerald clan and even includes an appearance by the young Richard of Gloucester. You need only enter a comment and you’re in the drawing. But do it today or tomorrow. For convenience’s sake, here is the link http://sharonkaypenman.com/blog/?p=451
Sympathies, too, to my British friends and readers for their loss in the World Cup.
Sympathies, too, to my British friends and readers for their loss in the World Cup.
June 19, 2014
Death of a Welsh princess
June 19, 1282 was the date of death of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd’s wife, Eleanor de Montfort, Ellen in my novels. She was 29, dying of the complications of a difficult childbirth after giving birth to a daughter, Gwenllian. Her death scene was one of the most challenging I’ve ever had to write, just as The Reckoning was the most tragic of the stories I’ve tried to tell. Here are a few, edited scenes from Ellen’s death chapter.
The Reckoning, page 484-485
From the moment he drew rein in the inner bailey at Aber, Davydd knew something was amiss. He’d always been sensitive to atmosphere, and here the very air seemed charged with tension. He’d just dismounted when his wife came running across the bailey, flung herself into his arms.
“Davydd, thank God! Never have I needed you more!” Burying her face against his chest, she burst into gasping, convulsive sobs.
Davydd had never seen her so distraught. “Elizabeth, what has happened? For Christ’s sake, tell me!”
“Ellen…she is dying!”
Davydd’s shock was genuine. Although he’d known, of course, how risky childbirth could be, he’d always lived his life as if he and his were somehow invulnerable to the everyday dangers that struck down others. He’d borne no liking for Ellen, but he’d still included her within his charmed circle, for she belonged to his brother. “How? What went wrong?”
‘Everything. She was in travail for nigh on two days, and when the babe was born, she bled heavily. All night she was senseless, and by yesterday morn, she was afire with fever….”
“And the babe?”
“A lass.”
Davydd felt a shamed sense of relief. “Llywelyn must be….” He slowly shook his head, for he could not begin to imagine his brother’s grieving, nor did he even want to, in truth.
Elizabeth had regained some of her composure by now. Clinging tightly to his arm, she said, “Come, I’ll take you to him.” They crossed the bailey in silence, but as they neared the door of Llywelyn’s chamber, Davydd’s steps began to lag. Elizabeth had been about to reach for the door latch. “Davydd?”
He was staring at the door, and the expression on his face was one she was not familiar with. It was the first time she’d seen her husband flustered, utterly at a loss. “Llywelyn was besotted with that woman,” he said. “What do I say to him, Elizabeth? What can I say?”
The chamber was deep in shadows. Llywelyn was alone with his wife, sitting very still in a chair by the bed. He did not look up as they entered, not until Elizabeth said his name. He showed no surprise at sight of Davydd, showed no emotion at all. Davydd stepped forward, still not knowing what he would say “Llywelyn…” He stopped, started again. “I’m sorry. Christ, but I’m so sorry…How does she?”
Llywelyn was holding Ellen’s hand in his, staring down at the jeweled wedding band, the ring she’d called her talisman, her luck. Just when Davydd had decided he was not going to answer, he said tonelessly, “She is dead.”
* * *
The next scene is set at Aber following Ellen’s funeral at Llanfaes, where she was buried in the friary that Llywelyn Fawr had established in his wife Joanna’s memory.
Page 486-487
Llywelyn was standing before his bedchamber door. He’d not crossed that threshold since Ellen’s death, and he was still not sure if he could do it now. His fist tightened on the latch, and then he was shoving the door inward.
The room was bright with sun, scrubbed clean and scented with fragrant incense. The smell of death was gone, lingered only in his memory. He’d been dreading to see Ellen’s perfume vials and hairbrush on the table, her bed slippers in the floor rushes, her gowns hanging neatly from wall poles, as if she’d just stepped out for a moment, would soon be back. But Caitlin and Elizabeth had obviously anticipated that, for the chamber had been cleared of his wife’s possessions. Clothes, books, even her favorite silver candlesticks---all had been whisked from sight, hidden away. It was as if Ellen had come into his life and gone and left no trace of her passing. And that was infinitely worse than finding a room awaiting her return
As he moved toward the center of the chamber, not yet ready to approach the bed, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Ellen’s little dog was crouched on the window-seat, watching him warily. “Hiraeth,” he said, “come, lass.” But it retreated as he advanced, scrambled down, and hid under the bed. “Contrary to the last,” he said ruefully, and then drew a breath sharp enough to hurt, for he’d recognized the crumpled cloth the dog had dragged up onto the window-seat. It was one of Ellen’s stockings.
(omission)
Elizabeth halted a few feet away. “I have never suffered a loss like yours,” she said, “but I think I can understand a little of your pain, for I’d go stark mad if evil ever befell Davydd or my sons. I know it is no comfort now, not yet, but Ellen left you more than memories. She left you part of herself, Llywelyn.”
She crossed the chamber then, thrust the baby toward him. For a moment, she feared he would refuse, but although he hesitated, he did take the child from her. “As Gwenllian grows into girlhood, there will come a day when you’ll look at her and you’ll see Ellen. It might be the tilt of her head or her laugh or mayhap the color of her eyes, but you’ll know then that you’ve not lost Ellen, after all, that she lives on in your daughter.”
(omission)
He did not hear the door closing quietly behind Elizabeth, continued to gaze down at his daughter. “Gwenllian,” he said, and realized with a shock that this was the first time he’d said her name. Her face was blurring, for tears had begun to burn his eyes, too hot to hold back. “Ellen was cheated of so much,” he said softly. “But you’ve been cheated, too, lass, cheated of your mother.”
* * *
Within six months, Llywelyn, too, would be dead. But I think what befell Davydd and Elizabeth was even more tragic. Davydd would be accused of treason and put to death in the most horrific method that the English king could devise, hanged, drawn, and quartered. Nor did Edward show any mercy to his cousin Elizabeth, the young woman he’d compelled to wed Davydd. He took her two small sons and her infant daughter away, sending the girl to join Gwenllian to be raised as nuns. Davydd’s and Elizabeth’s sons were sent under guard to Bristol Castle. These are Davydd’s thoughts of his sons on the night before his execution.
The Reckoning, page 568
Edward would never let them go. They would grow to manhood behind the walls of Bristol Castle. They would not know the joys and dangers and temptations that life could offer a man. They would learn naught of friendship or the urgency and sweetness of bedding a woman. They’d never have sons of their own. They would never see Wales again, and as their memories faded, they’d forget the world they’d known before Bristol Castle. They would forget him, forget Elizabeth, and not even know why they were doomed to live out their days as prisoners of the English king.
* * *
There were a few other historical occurrences of significance on June 19th, but I can rely upon Rania to chronicle them.
The Reckoning, page 484-485
From the moment he drew rein in the inner bailey at Aber, Davydd knew something was amiss. He’d always been sensitive to atmosphere, and here the very air seemed charged with tension. He’d just dismounted when his wife came running across the bailey, flung herself into his arms.
“Davydd, thank God! Never have I needed you more!” Burying her face against his chest, she burst into gasping, convulsive sobs.
Davydd had never seen her so distraught. “Elizabeth, what has happened? For Christ’s sake, tell me!”
“Ellen…she is dying!”
Davydd’s shock was genuine. Although he’d known, of course, how risky childbirth could be, he’d always lived his life as if he and his were somehow invulnerable to the everyday dangers that struck down others. He’d borne no liking for Ellen, but he’d still included her within his charmed circle, for she belonged to his brother. “How? What went wrong?”
‘Everything. She was in travail for nigh on two days, and when the babe was born, she bled heavily. All night she was senseless, and by yesterday morn, she was afire with fever….”
“And the babe?”
“A lass.”
Davydd felt a shamed sense of relief. “Llywelyn must be….” He slowly shook his head, for he could not begin to imagine his brother’s grieving, nor did he even want to, in truth.
Elizabeth had regained some of her composure by now. Clinging tightly to his arm, she said, “Come, I’ll take you to him.” They crossed the bailey in silence, but as they neared the door of Llywelyn’s chamber, Davydd’s steps began to lag. Elizabeth had been about to reach for the door latch. “Davydd?”
He was staring at the door, and the expression on his face was one she was not familiar with. It was the first time she’d seen her husband flustered, utterly at a loss. “Llywelyn was besotted with that woman,” he said. “What do I say to him, Elizabeth? What can I say?”
The chamber was deep in shadows. Llywelyn was alone with his wife, sitting very still in a chair by the bed. He did not look up as they entered, not until Elizabeth said his name. He showed no surprise at sight of Davydd, showed no emotion at all. Davydd stepped forward, still not knowing what he would say “Llywelyn…” He stopped, started again. “I’m sorry. Christ, but I’m so sorry…How does she?”
Llywelyn was holding Ellen’s hand in his, staring down at the jeweled wedding band, the ring she’d called her talisman, her luck. Just when Davydd had decided he was not going to answer, he said tonelessly, “She is dead.”
* * *
The next scene is set at Aber following Ellen’s funeral at Llanfaes, where she was buried in the friary that Llywelyn Fawr had established in his wife Joanna’s memory.
Page 486-487
Llywelyn was standing before his bedchamber door. He’d not crossed that threshold since Ellen’s death, and he was still not sure if he could do it now. His fist tightened on the latch, and then he was shoving the door inward.
The room was bright with sun, scrubbed clean and scented with fragrant incense. The smell of death was gone, lingered only in his memory. He’d been dreading to see Ellen’s perfume vials and hairbrush on the table, her bed slippers in the floor rushes, her gowns hanging neatly from wall poles, as if she’d just stepped out for a moment, would soon be back. But Caitlin and Elizabeth had obviously anticipated that, for the chamber had been cleared of his wife’s possessions. Clothes, books, even her favorite silver candlesticks---all had been whisked from sight, hidden away. It was as if Ellen had come into his life and gone and left no trace of her passing. And that was infinitely worse than finding a room awaiting her return
As he moved toward the center of the chamber, not yet ready to approach the bed, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Ellen’s little dog was crouched on the window-seat, watching him warily. “Hiraeth,” he said, “come, lass.” But it retreated as he advanced, scrambled down, and hid under the bed. “Contrary to the last,” he said ruefully, and then drew a breath sharp enough to hurt, for he’d recognized the crumpled cloth the dog had dragged up onto the window-seat. It was one of Ellen’s stockings.
(omission)
Elizabeth halted a few feet away. “I have never suffered a loss like yours,” she said, “but I think I can understand a little of your pain, for I’d go stark mad if evil ever befell Davydd or my sons. I know it is no comfort now, not yet, but Ellen left you more than memories. She left you part of herself, Llywelyn.”
She crossed the chamber then, thrust the baby toward him. For a moment, she feared he would refuse, but although he hesitated, he did take the child from her. “As Gwenllian grows into girlhood, there will come a day when you’ll look at her and you’ll see Ellen. It might be the tilt of her head or her laugh or mayhap the color of her eyes, but you’ll know then that you’ve not lost Ellen, after all, that she lives on in your daughter.”
(omission)
He did not hear the door closing quietly behind Elizabeth, continued to gaze down at his daughter. “Gwenllian,” he said, and realized with a shock that this was the first time he’d said her name. Her face was blurring, for tears had begun to burn his eyes, too hot to hold back. “Ellen was cheated of so much,” he said softly. “But you’ve been cheated, too, lass, cheated of your mother.”
* * *
Within six months, Llywelyn, too, would be dead. But I think what befell Davydd and Elizabeth was even more tragic. Davydd would be accused of treason and put to death in the most horrific method that the English king could devise, hanged, drawn, and quartered. Nor did Edward show any mercy to his cousin Elizabeth, the young woman he’d compelled to wed Davydd. He took her two small sons and her infant daughter away, sending the girl to join Gwenllian to be raised as nuns. Davydd’s and Elizabeth’s sons were sent under guard to Bristol Castle. These are Davydd’s thoughts of his sons on the night before his execution.
The Reckoning, page 568
Edward would never let them go. They would grow to manhood behind the walls of Bristol Castle. They would not know the joys and dangers and temptations that life could offer a man. They would learn naught of friendship or the urgency and sweetness of bedding a woman. They’d never have sons of their own. They would never see Wales again, and as their memories faded, they’d forget the world they’d known before Bristol Castle. They would forget him, forget Elizabeth, and not even know why they were doomed to live out their days as prisoners of the English king.
* * *
There were a few other historical occurrences of significance on June 19th, but I can rely upon Rania to chronicle them.
June 18, 2014
More Game of Thrones
What will I do when there are no Game of Thrones diversions to fill in on those slow medieval history days? Fortunately, that end is not in sight; the series and books have actually become a cottage industry of their own. So I have some links to share, starting with a funny short video about how the HBO writers came to do Game of Thrones. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2p9dR...
I was wondering if I was the only one who actually found Cersei likeable, even admirable, in the scene in which she defies her father and wins? I am sure it will never happen again, knowing Cersei as I do, but I was cheering her on. Of course she then had to entrap her brother in her sexual web; I bet I’m not the only one who watched that thinking, “Run, Jamie, run!”
And here is a link to another amusing recap of the finale. http://www.hlntv.com/article/2014/06/...
Now I know not all of you are fans of Game of Thrones, as hard as it is for us hard-core addicts to understand—and you’ve been very patient with our obsession. So for you here is a fun story about dads in the animal kingdom, a belated Father’s Day tribute to fathers everywhere; I was lucky enough to have a very special one myself and hope most of you were, too.
http://www.care2.com/causes/10-amazin...
I was wondering if I was the only one who actually found Cersei likeable, even admirable, in the scene in which she defies her father and wins? I am sure it will never happen again, knowing Cersei as I do, but I was cheering her on. Of course she then had to entrap her brother in her sexual web; I bet I’m not the only one who watched that thinking, “Run, Jamie, run!”
And here is a link to another amusing recap of the finale. http://www.hlntv.com/article/2014/06/...
Now I know not all of you are fans of Game of Thrones, as hard as it is for us hard-core addicts to understand—and you’ve been very patient with our obsession. So for you here is a fun story about dads in the animal kingdom, a belated Father’s Day tribute to fathers everywhere; I was lucky enough to have a very special one myself and hope most of you were, too.
http://www.care2.com/causes/10-amazin...
June 17, 2014
The fall of Acre and the best elephant rescue story ever
On June 17, 1291, the city of Acre fell to the Saracens, almost a hundred years to the day after it had been taken by the Lionheart in 1191; he bought the Kingdom of Jerusalem another hundred years of life, but this time the fall of Acre signified the end for the Christian realm of Outremer.
And here is a heartwarming video of a baby elephant being saved by his mom and sister after almost being swept away during a river crossing. The most remarkable elephant rescue I ever saw occurred in a documentary a number of years ago. The film crew was filming an elephant herd and when they reached a watering hole, they discovered a baby elephant trapped in the mud. After failing to free him, his own herd had finally abandoned him to his grisly fate, and hyenas were already gathering, drawn by his panicked cries. The hyenas retreated to a safe distance when the second elephant herd arrived and began to drink. Elephants do not normally adopt babies from other herds and after drinking, they moved on and the hyenas moved in. Film crews usually refuse to “interfere” with nature---which I could never do—and they would not try to save the baby. Needless to say, I was horrified, especially since they continued to film him as the hyenas prepared to attack. And then suddenly, like the cavalry in an old western, the matriarch of the second herd came charging back, with her herd on her heels. She scattered the hyenas and then plunged into the water hole and somehow managed to free the baby. Another nursing female then adopted him and they all continued on their way. It was truly amazing. There ought to be a special place in Hell for those who shoot these magnificent animals.
http://www.care2.com/greenliving/baby...
And here is a heartwarming video of a baby elephant being saved by his mom and sister after almost being swept away during a river crossing. The most remarkable elephant rescue I ever saw occurred in a documentary a number of years ago. The film crew was filming an elephant herd and when they reached a watering hole, they discovered a baby elephant trapped in the mud. After failing to free him, his own herd had finally abandoned him to his grisly fate, and hyenas were already gathering, drawn by his panicked cries. The hyenas retreated to a safe distance when the second elephant herd arrived and began to drink. Elephants do not normally adopt babies from other herds and after drinking, they moved on and the hyenas moved in. Film crews usually refuse to “interfere” with nature---which I could never do—and they would not try to save the baby. Needless to say, I was horrified, especially since they continued to film him as the hyenas prepared to attack. And then suddenly, like the cavalry in an old western, the matriarch of the second herd came charging back, with her herd on her heels. She scattered the hyenas and then plunged into the water hole and somehow managed to free the baby. Another nursing female then adopted him and they all continued on their way. It was truly amazing. There ought to be a special place in Hell for those who shoot these magnificent animals.
http://www.care2.com/greenliving/baby...
June 16, 2014
The battle of Stoke Field and the Game of Thrones finale
June 16, 1487 is the date of the battle that can be considered the true end of the Wars of the Roses, in which Richard’s nephew, John de la Pole, and his good friend, Francis Lovell, were defeated by Henry Tudor (boo, hiss) at the battle of Stoke Field . John was slain in the battle, and when I wrote Sunne, we did not know Francis Lovell’s fate, the story most accepted by historians being that he drowned trying to cross the River Trent. I am happy to report that we now know he made it to safety in Scotland, and then disappeared from history’s notice. So we’re free to assume he lived on, wisely deciding to keep under Tudor’s radar. Or we can decide that he died soon thereafter –in case you think not enough men died in the Wars of the Roses.
And speaking of dying, that brings us to the season finale of Game of Thrones, which can always be counted upon to have a higher body count than those Texas Chainsaw horror films. I guess I am inured to violence by now, having killed off so many of my own characters; or maybe I’ve just learned how to look away at the worst moments. But I loved the finale. It made quite a few changes from the ending of Storm of Swords, all of which I heartily approve. I thought it was a powerful, suspenseful episode, and why even bother voting for the best actor Emmys? I’d just mail it in to Peter Dinklage for that moment in which he says “I am your son.” Here is the link to my favorite reviewer’s commentary, and he includes links to interviews with many of the key players. http://insidetv.ew.com/2014/06/15/gam...
And speaking of dying, that brings us to the season finale of Game of Thrones, which can always be counted upon to have a higher body count than those Texas Chainsaw horror films. I guess I am inured to violence by now, having killed off so many of my own characters; or maybe I’ve just learned how to look away at the worst moments. But I loved the finale. It made quite a few changes from the ending of Storm of Swords, all of which I heartily approve. I thought it was a powerful, suspenseful episode, and why even bother voting for the best actor Emmys? I’d just mail it in to Peter Dinklage for that moment in which he says “I am your son.” Here is the link to my favorite reviewer’s commentary, and he includes links to interviews with many of the key players. http://insidetv.ew.com/2014/06/15/gam...
June 15, 2014
Of kings and almost-kings and the Game of Thrones finale
Yesterday Henry II made one of his rare blunders, crowning his fifteen year old son on June 14, 1170. It surprised me that Louis later did the same dumb, damned thing and had Philippe crowned in his lifetime, too. You’d think he’d have learned by the grief that it gave Henry. Future English kings took note, though; not a one of them ever crowned his heir like Henry did.
And today on June 15, 1215, John very reluctantly signed the Magna Carta, and then repudiated it as soon as he could, a policy followed by his son, Henry III, and grandson, Edward I. Medieval kings weren’t ones for sharing power.
Also on June 15, 1330, the eldest son and namesake of Edward III was born, Edward of Woodstock, who would later be known to history as the Black Prince. His premature death is definitely one of history’s What ifs, for had he survived to become king, English and French history would have been changed very much---for better or worse, we cannot say, of course. But I think it is at least likely that there would not have been a Wars of the Roses, and maybe that would mean no Tudors on the throne either, and no television circus shows like The Tudors. (Or no Sunne, either, shudder.)
Lastly, for those of us addicted to Game of Thrones, tonight is the long-awaited finale of season four, which will contain major surprises even by GRRM’s standards. So get the popcorn out, keep the tissues close, and try not to think about the ten months in limbo that will lie ahead of us after tonight. Winter is coming.
And today on June 15, 1215, John very reluctantly signed the Magna Carta, and then repudiated it as soon as he could, a policy followed by his son, Henry III, and grandson, Edward I. Medieval kings weren’t ones for sharing power.
Also on June 15, 1330, the eldest son and namesake of Edward III was born, Edward of Woodstock, who would later be known to history as the Black Prince. His premature death is definitely one of history’s What ifs, for had he survived to become king, English and French history would have been changed very much---for better or worse, we cannot say, of course. But I think it is at least likely that there would not have been a Wars of the Roses, and maybe that would mean no Tudors on the throne either, and no television circus shows like The Tudors. (Or no Sunne, either, shudder.)
Lastly, for those of us addicted to Game of Thrones, tonight is the long-awaited finale of season four, which will contain major surprises even by GRRM’s standards. So get the popcorn out, keep the tissues close, and try not to think about the ten months in limbo that will lie ahead of us after tonight. Winter is coming.
June 13, 2014
Hero saves drowning cat and GRRM on the Red Wedding
Again, no medieval anniversaries that I want to commemorate. So I am ranging further afield. There was an awful story on the news this week about a sociopath who injected two horses with gasoline; one of them died as a result, and the other one became very ill, but is expected to recover. So I decided my fellow animal lovers needed an antidote to that sort of sick, toxic cruelty. Here is a link to a story about a jogger who saw a cat carrier deliberately tossed into a creek, weighted down, with the cat still inside. This dear man did not even hesitate, at once plunged into the water and rescued the drowning cat. His heroics really resonated with me because I’d had Justin de Quincy do something similar in my first mystery, The Queen’s Man, where he was able to rescue a dog that had been thrown into the River Fleet.
http://www.care2.com/causes/jogger-ru...
And here is a very interesting interview from last year with George RR Martin about how and why he wrote his infamous Red Wedding scene, which contains some revealing insights about how he approaches his craft. He mentions an actual massacre in Scotland as one of his sources of inspiration, but a similar incident occurred in 12th century Wales, too, orchestrated by the notorious William de Braose, John’s boon companion until they had their fatal falling-out, and the grandfather of Joanna’s lover in Here Be Dragons.
http://insidetv.ew.com/2013/06/02/gam...
http://www.care2.com/causes/jogger-ru...
And here is a very interesting interview from last year with George RR Martin about how and why he wrote his infamous Red Wedding scene, which contains some revealing insights about how he approaches his craft. He mentions an actual massacre in Scotland as one of his sources of inspiration, but a similar incident occurred in 12th century Wales, too, orchestrated by the notorious William de Braose, John’s boon companion until they had their fatal falling-out, and the grandfather of Joanna’s lover in Here Be Dragons.
http://insidetv.ew.com/2013/06/02/gam...
June 12, 2014
People worth remembering
I was sorry to learn that a wonderful actress, Ruby Dee, died today, at age 91. And I would like to wish a Happy Birthday to George Bush, Sr on his 90th birthday, which he celebrated with great panache by making a parachute jump. I wonder how he got Barbara to agree to that, but what a marvelously mad way to defy Father Time.
This morning I said that it was a slow medieval news day, and this is not really medieval. But I feel we should acknowledge the death on June 12, 918 of King Alfred’s daughter, Aethelfled, known to history as the Lady of the Mercians and to we legions of Bernard Cornwell fans as the love of Uhtred’s life.
June 12th was also the birthday in 1929 of a remarkable young Dutch girl. On this date in 1942, Anne Frank was given a diary for her thirteenth birthday. One month later, she and her family had to go into hiding from the Nazis and she began to write, leaving behind a memorable and heartrending testament to the human spirit.
This morning I said that it was a slow medieval news day, and this is not really medieval. But I feel we should acknowledge the death on June 12, 918 of King Alfred’s daughter, Aethelfled, known to history as the Lady of the Mercians and to we legions of Bernard Cornwell fans as the love of Uhtred’s life.
June 12th was also the birthday in 1929 of a remarkable young Dutch girl. On this date in 1942, Anne Frank was given a diary for her thirteenth birthday. One month later, she and her family had to go into hiding from the Nazis and she began to write, leaving behind a memorable and heartrending testament to the human spirit.
New George RR Martin interview
Another slow medieval news day, so I’ll fall back on our favorite fantasy medieval world. Here is a link to an interesting interview with George RR Martin, and a link to an equally interesting interview with his editor, who seems to be saying they’d love it if there were an eighth book in the Ice and Fire series Right now, I’d settle for Book Six, but sadly, she still has no idea when it will be published. Lucky we Game of Throners are such a patient lot, right? After all, no one marched on Master Martin’s house with torches and pitchforks when there was a six year gap between books four and five. GRRM does have a great idea about the HBO series, wishing they had thirteen episodes a season instead of only ten, but as he acknowledged, that is not likely to happen because of the high cost of filming the series. They must have saved some money, though, on the CGI dragons; think how expensive it would have been to rent some dragons.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/15/art...
http://www.visaliatimesdelta.com/stor...
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/15/art...
http://www.visaliatimesdelta.com/stor...
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