Star Wars on Trial by Keith R. A. DeCandido, David Brin, Tanya Huff, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Matthew Woodring Stover Page B
Authors: Keith R. A. DeCandido, David Brin, Tanya Huff, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Matthew Woodring Stover
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actually care about this stuff.
I care about it because of all those high hopes, back in the same year that my own first novel came out. I care because I passionately believe that important stories ought to make sense. Even if they are dark tragedies. Even if I disagree with the lesson that's being taught. Because we learn from things that we can decipher. Even if and when we don't like the point being made. But an illogical mish-mash teaches nothing at all.
More the fool, I care so much that this ongoing Star Wars thing sometimes distracted me from some of my own stories. On occasion I would catch myself mulling it over while driving, or sitting in the tub....
... until suddenly one day, it came to me.
A simple solution. A way that it all might have made sense.
THERE'S A SECRET PLAN, AFTER ALL
But I'm not going to tell you here.
Because my time's up. There are enough indictments on our plate, and the Defense is already on the wings, ready to weigh in, eager to tell us about the merits and glories of the Star Wars universe!
Also, there's another reason.
As a professional, I live in a world of critics and reviewers. I am used to being told what's wrong with work I've written, even novels that were tested past my special battery of fierce pre-readers, who generally catch most of the slipups before publication. (My aphorism: CITOKATE. Criticism is the only known antidote to error) I am used to others telling me where I failed, or where my creations have problems. That's fine.
But what really prickles is when some upstart tells me how I oughta have fixed a problem. What I shoulda done, instead of what I did.
I don't hanker for that.
Furthermore, I don't have any right to do it to George Lucas. Not formally at least, in print. It just isn't right.
Because, having heaped on criticism, for page after page, I really need to add this: the world would have been a much poorer place without Star Wars!
Despite my grouchy grumblings about what could have been, the fact is that George Lucas delivered a mainline feed of fantastic imagery and almost-pure joy, straight through the eyes, ears and optic nerves of about a billion people. That's a lot more than I have ever reached. It merits respect. The genuine kind, directed toward somebody who has used his talents to make a difference, and had fun doing it, too.
Besides, hey, the man hired and subsidized maybe 10% of the greatest and most groundbreaking technical artists of our age, pushing forward dozens of wondrous new visualization technologies and opening doors for other creators in this wondrously free and open civilization.
Yes, I have complaints about plot and character and deeper meaning. But, as I said at the beginning, fortunately, most people just don't care about any of that! We, here, reading (and writing) this book, are among the few who do. Moreover, if we are all lucky, then the "messages" in Star Wars will never matter anywhere near as much as the pure and simple joy.
And yes, my kids cut in at one point, crystallizing this wisdom.
"Cut him some slack, Dad. The lightsabers are cool."
All right then, I'll hold back on my little plot gimmick-the Darth Vader twist-that (in my humble opinion) might make sense of so many unfortunate coincidences ... fulfill Qui-Gon's dream ... and even give the nasty oven mitt some payback, too. There are enough clues. Readers who like to play mental games can follow where they lead, using their own marvelous imaginations.'
In the end, what matters is only this: be willing to look with a complex eye, even upon simple legends.
You are many. A child, a teen, a grown-up. Individualist and citizen. A worker and a player. Feel free to enjoy any entertainment in the spirit that it's offered ... while another part keeps asking "what bill of goods am I being sold between the frames?"
It is a new millennium. There are choices. So be many. Keep looking forward, courageously, into a world of change.
And demand a universe that makes some
I care about it because of all those high hopes, back in the same year that my own first novel came out. I care because I passionately believe that important stories ought to make sense. Even if they are dark tragedies. Even if I disagree with the lesson that's being taught. Because we learn from things that we can decipher. Even if and when we don't like the point being made. But an illogical mish-mash teaches nothing at all.
More the fool, I care so much that this ongoing Star Wars thing sometimes distracted me from some of my own stories. On occasion I would catch myself mulling it over while driving, or sitting in the tub....
... until suddenly one day, it came to me.
A simple solution. A way that it all might have made sense.
THERE'S A SECRET PLAN, AFTER ALL
But I'm not going to tell you here.
Because my time's up. There are enough indictments on our plate, and the Defense is already on the wings, ready to weigh in, eager to tell us about the merits and glories of the Star Wars universe!
Also, there's another reason.
As a professional, I live in a world of critics and reviewers. I am used to being told what's wrong with work I've written, even novels that were tested past my special battery of fierce pre-readers, who generally catch most of the slipups before publication. (My aphorism: CITOKATE. Criticism is the only known antidote to error) I am used to others telling me where I failed, or where my creations have problems. That's fine.
But what really prickles is when some upstart tells me how I oughta have fixed a problem. What I shoulda done, instead of what I did.
I don't hanker for that.
Furthermore, I don't have any right to do it to George Lucas. Not formally at least, in print. It just isn't right.
Because, having heaped on criticism, for page after page, I really need to add this: the world would have been a much poorer place without Star Wars!
Despite my grouchy grumblings about what could have been, the fact is that George Lucas delivered a mainline feed of fantastic imagery and almost-pure joy, straight through the eyes, ears and optic nerves of about a billion people. That's a lot more than I have ever reached. It merits respect. The genuine kind, directed toward somebody who has used his talents to make a difference, and had fun doing it, too.
Besides, hey, the man hired and subsidized maybe 10% of the greatest and most groundbreaking technical artists of our age, pushing forward dozens of wondrous new visualization technologies and opening doors for other creators in this wondrously free and open civilization.
Yes, I have complaints about plot and character and deeper meaning. But, as I said at the beginning, fortunately, most people just don't care about any of that! We, here, reading (and writing) this book, are among the few who do. Moreover, if we are all lucky, then the "messages" in Star Wars will never matter anywhere near as much as the pure and simple joy.
And yes, my kids cut in at one point, crystallizing this wisdom.
"Cut him some slack, Dad. The lightsabers are cool."
All right then, I'll hold back on my little plot gimmick-the Darth Vader twist-that (in my humble opinion) might make sense of so many unfortunate coincidences ... fulfill Qui-Gon's dream ... and even give the nasty oven mitt some payback, too. There are enough clues. Readers who like to play mental games can follow where they lead, using their own marvelous imaginations.'
In the end, what matters is only this: be willing to look with a complex eye, even upon simple legends.
You are many. A child, a teen, a grown-up. Individualist and citizen. A worker and a player. Feel free to enjoy any entertainment in the spirit that it's offered ... while another part keeps asking "what bill of goods am I being sold between the frames?"
It is a new millennium. There are choices. So be many. Keep looking forward, courageously, into a world of change.
And demand a universe that makes some
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