Game of Thrones has finished on TV – but we should wait for the final books

Game of Thrones finished this week. It’s all been very hush hush, I know. Thankfully, everyone’s really happy about the way it finished and isn’t going to mention it ever again. All that’s left to do is to be grateful for what we had and get on with finding another TV show to occupy the Hound-sized chasm in our hearts.

In reality, the ending of Game of Thrones is likely to make the 52 years that diehard devotees of The Prisoner have spent bickering about its finale look like a quick squabble. There’s already an angry petition (there’s always a petition) demanding a remake and there’s almost certainly someone re-editing the footage to make the show what they wanted. But it’s not just dignity that should stop anyone unhappy with the TV conclusion from signing that petition – it’s the knowledge that George RR Martin will write it properly.

It’s been eight years since his last book in the series, A Dance With Dragons, came out, and there are two still to come: the hugely delayed The Winds of Winter – which Martin now aims to release in 2020 – and A Dream of Spring, nought but a glint in the author’s eye at this point. It’s understandable that HBO didn’t want to pause production on their TV juggernaut in order for Martin to catch up. Instead, he told showrunners David Benioff and DB Weiss how the story would ultimately end, so they could work towards a shared goal. So we can assume what we saw on screen is, roughly, how the novels will end. Martin has consistently said as much, writing on his blog after the finale aired: “How will it all end? I hear people asking. The same ending as the show? Different? Well … yes. And no. And yes. And no. And yes. And no. And yes.”

Will it be any better in his hands? Well, it’s hard to imagine how it couldn’t be an improvement on what we saw. Benioff and Weiss’s adaptation nosedived once they overtook Martin’s books towards the end of series five. The show began to feel like an approximation of what had gone before, written by people who had a York Notes version of a set text before heading in to an exam to wing it: you might get some of it right, but you won’t get top marks.

As for whether the final two books will be ruined by knowing what’s coming, they’ll make up for any spoiled surprise with clarity. I disliked great swaths of the last couple of series and enjoyed each episode of the final run less than its predecessor. I was giddy with excitement before the eighth season started, but my main emotion after the finale was relief that it was over and we could all move on.

My dissatisfaction was not with what took place, but how – and this is where Martin comes back in. It’s easy to imagine Daenerys’s descent into madness making more sense when written by him, where he can devote detailed chapter after detailed chapter to the state of her mind. (Rather than merely expecting an audience to buy the idea that three days’ sulking with no dinner is a credible prelude to murdering hundreds of thousands of people.) Similarly, Grey Worm’s taste for committing war crimes might have more grounding than tossing a choker into a fireplace. And maybe, in Martin’s books, Jon Snow’s parentage will actually mean something – anything – in a way that 25 hours of screen time missed. The Azor Ahai prophecy, so casually glossed over, will be paid off. Or, at least addressed.

Martin is taking his sweet mystical time writing these books – but if the alternative is rushing to finish the story as if a broadcaster has cancelled your series but is allowing you a Christmas special to tie up loose ends, then I’m all for it. Throughout Game of Thrones’ eighth season, I couldn’t help feeling that the fans deserved better. Here’s to Martin giving it to us, whenever that may be.