I love the color, I really love the scent, but most of all I love the happy memories they bring me every spring.

My father loved lilacs, and although he is no longer with us, the memory of many springtimes spent with him, looking for wild lilac bushes, is precious to me.  For a while, there was a patch of lilacs in a lot across the street from my parents’ condo, but the land was developed for housing and the developer decided to destroy those lovely flowers.  Dad was heartbroken.

Mom and Dad couldn’t plant lilacs of their own because they lived in a condo, but I had a house and so I planted two lilac bushes.  Every spring, when the lilacs bloomed, Dad would come and take a bouquet for him and Mom to enjoy.  It reminded him of happy times in his boyhood home, before he became a Holocaust survivor and came to this country to make a new life.

Dad has been gone for more than ten years.  His lilacs–they will always be his lilacs to me–still thrive.

But this spring, something happened.

One of the bushes bloomed as beautifully as always, but the other–even though it was taller and sturdier–did not.  There was not a single blossom on it.  Though the leaves were green and healthy, there were no flowers.  None.  Was it a sign that one of Dad’s lilacs was fading away?  Was there anything we could do to restore it?  What if our best efforts were no use and we lost it?  I felt helpless and sad.  

Then, just a few days ago, my husband said, “Would you look at that!” and pointed.

High on the once-barren lilac, one sweetly scented cone of flowers had bloomed, pale purple against a bright blue sky.  It was a glorious proof of hope and of the tenacity of life.

It was a wonderfully heartening whisper that sometimes. . .sometimes the message “Don’t give up” is written for us in flowers.

(drumroll, please)

Maeve of Ireland!

We’re heading west–far west–all the way to Ireland of the Iron Age, the age of high kings, powerful druids, great heroes, and the young princess who grows up to be the Queen of Connacht.  Her boldness, beauty, power and determination are the heart of legends.

Kestrel’s Princess and Kestrel’s Flight will tell the tale of Maeve’s coming of age.  Come share all of her loves and hates, all of the adventures and challenges that transform a girl into the immortal Warrior Queen. 

Kestrel’s Princess and Kestrel’s Flight are scheduled to appear in 2014 and 2015 from Random House.  

Sign up (it’s free and fun) and you can post any questions you’d like me to answer about Spirit’s Princess or my other books.

You can get more information about this event here:

http://static.randombuzzers.com/newsletters/RBnewsletter_EstherFriesner2012.html

It’s my great pleasure to welcome to the world the first book of Himiko’s adventures, with the second, Spirit’s Chosen, to follow.

Keep watching this website for news about where I’ll be appearing for signings-and-such to introduce Spirit’s Princess personally.

And for those readers who like having an autographed copy on their bookshelves, I try to visit bookstores even when I don’t have a scheduled signing appearance, to autograph they copies they have in stock.  I travel a lot, so you never know where you might find one of these.  Good hunting!

Enjoy, and thank you for your enthusiastic support for the Princesses of Myth!

I’m always thrilled when a new book launches.  Here’s to Spirit’s Princess finding a warm welcome out there as Himiko of Japan joins the ranks of Helen, Nefertiti, and princesses to come!

I’ll tell you the story without double-checking it online or in a book, relying solely on my memory.  You can always look up the “official” version, although. . .come on, it’s a myth!  And myths were relayed from person to person, person to group, and group to group strictly by word of mouth for a long, long time before anyone wrote them down.  Consider this the more authentic way of hearing the story.  

Arachne was a girl with a gift, and her gift was weaving.  Weaving a plain piece of cloth was no challenge.  Neither was weaving an abstract pattern, no matter how complicated.  She could weave pictures into her cloth.  Not only simple pictures, like a bird here, an ox there, but entire scenes!  She was remarkable, and everyone told her so.

And Arachne replied, “Yes, I know.  I am fantastic, right?”  Which would have been obnoxious enough, but she took it one step farther and declared, “I’m not just the best mortal weaver out there, I am even better at weaving than Athena herself!”

Now class, who can tell me why this was a bad thing to say?  Yes, it was snotty, very good, although perhaps it would be better to say it was immodest.  Yes, she was boasting and bragging, and there does come a point when even those people who say “Self-confidence should never be discouraged” will be forced to admit that there is a considerable difference between self-confidence and being a blowhard.  But what was the worst part about Arachne’s declaration?

Yes?  You in the back?

Ah-ha!  Correct!  Perfect!  I will repeat it so everyone can hear:  The worst part about Arcahne boasting she was a better weaver than Athena was that Athena is a goddess!  Immortal.  Powerful.  And–make a note of this–with no sense of humor concerning over-proud mortals.

The Greeks have a word for human pride that has gone entirely out of control:  hubris.  There are many, many myths in which mortals show hubris and in every one of these, the mortal is punished for it, mercilessly, spectacularly, and often fatally.  When the Greek gods wanted to teach mortals a lesson, they didn’t fool around.

So Athena heard Arachne’s boast and showed up at Arachne’s house disguised as an old woman.  This disguise was her way of giving the snippy mortal one last chance to dodge a nasty fate.  The “old woman” told Arachne she’d heard of the girl’s boasting and perhaps she should reconsider her words, stop bragging so much, and apologize to the goddess.

Would you like to guess how much good that did?  Arachne brushed off the “old woman”‘s warning flippantly and repeated her claim that she was a better weaver than Athena.

“And if you don’t believe me, I’m willing to prove it!  Let there be a weaving contest, me against Athena, and I’ll show you I’m the best!” she cried.

“Funny you should make that offer,” said Arachne’s vistor and. . .ta-daaaaahhh!  There stood Athena in all her divine glory.

It was on.

It was a very close contest.  Arachne was a wonderful weaver.  The cloth on her loom grew at a phenomenal rate.  So did the cloth on Athena’s loom, but remember, the two contestants were not weaving plain cloth; they were weaving pictures, and very special pictures:  pictures that were intended to send a message to their opponent.

Athena’s message was a fresh warning to Arachne:  The goddess wove a cloth whose images recounted past incidents of mortal hubris, examples of mortals who thought they were better or smarter or better looking or more skilled than the gods.  Athena’s weaving concentrated on what happened to every one of these unwise mortals, and it was never a happy ending.

I like to imagine the goddess muttering, “Maybe now that girl will realize she’s dancing too close to the cliff’s edge and apologize to me.”   What else was Athena’s weaving but a second second chance for Arachne to save herself?

Arachne must have glanced at her rival’s loom more than once.  We know that Athena definitely looked at Arachne’s, and what did she see?

Another bad idea:  For her theme, Arachne chose to weave the stories of all the times that the gods behaved in ways that made them look foolish.  It was a gorgeously, skillfully woven insult, a perfectly executed slap in the face to Athena and all her divine kin.  

Bad, bad idea.

Athena had enough.  ”I gave her two chances to get out of the hole she dug for herself, and what does she do?  She flings a handful of dirt at me!”  Enraged, the goddess tore Arachne’s weaving to shreds and struck the girl with the shuttle form her loom.  ”You like to weave?  Then weave your webs forever!” she cried as the boastful mortal fell to the ground and began to shrivel and shrink, her arms and legs growing long, four more limbs sprouting from her tiny, round body, her eyes bulging until the transformation was complete and instead of a girl, all that was left of Arachne was. . .

. . .a spider.

That’s the story, and spiders are still called arachnids because of their mythological great-great-great-great-etc.-grandmother, Arachne.

But there are stories beyond stories, and here is one I think about concerning Arachne:  Suppose Athena had not become enraged and turned the girl into a spider.  Suppose–well, first of all, suppose that Arachne and Athena could have found someone who could judge their contest and declare a winner–suppose that judge said that Arachne won.  What would she have gained?  The right to go on bragging that she was the best weaver ever?  That she was better than a goddess?

Who would linger to listen to so much boasting?  How long would it be before she was left completely alone, with only her memory of the big contest for company?  

Why didn’t she choose to use her gift more than she bragged about it?  Arachne had the power to create beauty, and the power to share it.  She could have brought that beauty into the lives of others.

She didn’t.  

I think that when Athena turned Arachne into a spider and took away her humanity, she was only putting the finishing touch on the cloth that Arcahne had been weaving for herself for a long time.

Most people know who Helen of Troy and Nefertiti were, but I usually have to give Himiko a bit of an introduction.

Not this time.  Our server recognized the name right away and was excited to learn that there were going to be two YA novels about Himiko coming out soon (Well, the first one’s coming out soon–less than a month, now!).  We gave her the details–Random House, April 24th publication date, etc.  She then told everyone else who works in the restaurant.

Oh my.  :)

It’s always nice to hear that something I’ve written is generating interest even before it sees print, but I never expected to find that reaction waiting for me in a Las Vegas restaurant!

(And btw, dinner–including one of my hard-to-find-in-the-U.S.-favorites, rice balls stuffed with ume [pickled plum]–was absolutely delicious.)

That’s less than a month away!  I’m very excited, as you might imagine.

As I type, the Powers That Be are lining up various bookstore signings and other opportunities for me to meet my readers.  I do like being able to do so and will be posting the details of where/when here as soon as I know them.

Even if you don’t live anywhere near the site of one of these events, I’m here to tell you about something you can do if you’d like the chance to “talk” with me.

From Monday, May 7, through Friday, May 11, I will be the fetaured offer on Random House’s RANDOM BUZZERS site.  Check it out (The link’s below), sign up, and join the group.  I’ve appeared on this site before and can honestly say it’s a fun community!

Check it out for yourself here:

http://www.randombuzzers.com/ 

See you soon!

This event will be a part of LUNACON, a wonderful science fiction/fantasy convention held annually in the New York City area.

LUNACON takes place from Friday, March 16 through Sunday, March 18, at the Rye Town Hilton in Rye Brook, NY.

Spirit’s Princess is about Himiko, a shaman-queen of 3rd century Japan, so our party will be all about Japanese-themed games and activities.  (Maybe not 3rd century Japanese-themed activities, but you’ll still have a good time.)

This year’s LUNACON has an added bonus for fans of YA:  Tamora Pierce is one of the Guests of Honor!

Learn more about it here:  http://2012.lunacon.org/

Come and join us!

It has nothing to do with the Princesses of Myth, though I have heard that pizza supposedly began in ancient Rome.

I suppose I could say that Himiko and Helen and Nefertiti were all young women who knew what they wanted, even if it wasn’t something that their families or societies told them they should want.

The same is often true for pizza.  If you don’t believe this, just try to get your friends and family to order just one pizza and reach an agreement about what to put on top of it!

You can even get into an argument about the type of crust you want.  For example, I prefer thick, chewy crust to thin crust and I don’t think you need to stuff the crust with anything.  That’s what the top of the pizza is for!

I lead a sometimes lonely life when it comes to getting what I want on a pizza because. . .oh dear. . .I like anchovies.  Not a very popular choice, is it?

Worse, I will not eat pepperoni pizza, which is a mighty popular type.  In fact, I have the Three Forbidden P’s in mind when I have pizza:  No Pork, No Peppers, and No Pineapple, if you please.

On the other hand, I do like things like onions, mushrooms, garlic, artichoke hearts, and sometimes black olives.  Oh, and extra cheese!  Lots and lots of extra cheese.

All of which should go on a “red” pizza, though not all at the same time.  Too much is. . .too much.  

As I said, I know this hasn’t got anything to do with Himiko, Helen, or Nefertiti (though if I write about ancient Rome some day, perhaps I could work in a prototype pizza for my heroine to enjoy) but as long as I’m feeling frivolous, I wonder what sort of pizza each of them might like.

And how about you?