|
October 23, 2007
|
|
Normally a cultural icon like the Death Star needs no introduction. When you've been referenced by Kevin Smith, Ronald Reagan, and everyone in between, chances are there exists a wealth of information regarding even your tiniest detail.
Curiously though, the new hardcover Death Star, co-authored by Expanded Universe vets Michael Reaves and Steve Perry, is one of the very few books to dive deep below the surface of the celebrated but largely enigmatic battle station. Thirty years is a lengthy gestation period, even for a subject as massive as the famous superweapon, but happily, the book is well worth the wait.
The novel ultimately feels a lot like the James Cameron film Titanic, sans the cheesy teenage love story. Everyone knows how the plot ends, but due to the quality of the production, the engaging cast of characters, and the alternate route taken to a familiar destination, the novel takes you along for a breathlessly good ride, the large ensemble cast careening towards their shared date with destiny along parallel paths that all lead to the polished steel corridors of the Empire's ultimate weapon.
Death Star is an impressive read on almost every level, first and foremost because of its likeable and realistically drawn cast. While many of the characters may seem at first blush to be well-worn archetypes, the authors make the most of the relatively short page count, breathing life into diverse characters ranging from a trauma surgeon, to a librarian, to an Imperial TIE pilot.
Much as they did in the sublime Medstar duology, co-authors Perry and Reaves eschew the traditional galactic scale of Star Wars and offer a protracted view of the lives of several individuals, none of them ever to be confused with Skywalkers or Solos, but each equally fascinating in their own right. There's Nova Stihl, the stormtrooper with a conscience (and a bevy of wicked-cool unarmed fighting moves). There's Tenn Graneet cutting a heroic figure as the grizzled master chief gunnery officer who harbors only the ambition to be the best (and inherits the task of firing the galaxy's biggest gun as a result). Sharp-eyed EU readers will note the return of Medstar alum Kornell 'Uli' Divini, looking worn, weary, and much older since last we saw him operating on Republic troopers during the Clone Wars. There's also Ratua, a Zelosian smuggler with the perfect mix of alien cool and down-on-his-luck sympathy, as well as the lovely twi'lek pub owner Memah, who can't help falling for him.
The book masterfully weaves together the lives of these and several other well-drawn characters, following them from their diverse roots all the way to their final act onboard the doomed station, and in doing so, serves as a character-driven oasis amid the desert that is licensed spin-off fiction. It is precisely these kinds of stories about the everyday denizens of the Star Wars galaxy that the EU needs more of: sure, archetypal characters like Luke and Anakin are fun to read about, but a steady diet of repetitive heroics threatens the vitality of any prolonged series. Death Star is like a cool drink of water, a living, breathing glimpse into the vast world that is Star Wars, and the editors at LucasBooks would do well to green-light a few more like it.
As sprawling as it is, ultimately Star Wars always comes back to the somewhat tired motif of the superhero; its almost as if the ghost of Joseph Campbell refuses to let go of not only George Lucas, but also those who write under his corporate banner. Fortunately, Death Star shatters that mold, delivering a gritty, poignant tale that breathes life into the galaxy far, far away, and offers refuge to the fan who has grown tired of the 'everybody's a hero/Jedi/savior/badass' malaise that has infected much of the EU.
Yes most of the ensemble cast have their individual moments of heroism throughout the novel's latter stage, but they're on an intimate, realistic scale, the fate of the galaxy doesn't hang in the balance (for once) and the story is infinitely stronger because of it.
This is not to say that recognizable characters have taken a holiday, on the contrary, some of the novel's more delightful moments belong to Vader, or more precisely, to how he is perceived by the aforementioned everymen who cross his path as he finds new ways to motivate the various conscripts and Imperials aboard the station (most notably, architect Teela Kaarz, in a frighteningly intense interrogation scene that finds her desperately trying to cloak her treasonous thoughts).
Vader is at his omnipotent original trilogy best, as viewed through the lenses of characters who are both fascinated and terrified in his presence, and its invigorating to see such an oft-written character presented from a fresh perspective.
In addition to the handsome cast, the authors are also clearly in their element when describing the rivets of the Star Wars universe, and long time fans will revel in the detail as they are given an up-close-and-personal view of the gunnery deck on a Star Destroyer that reads like a passage out of a particularly enjoyable history book. Also of note is the prose describing the logistics of the station's construction, the workers living on board while its being built, and the sheer magnitude of the whole colossal enterprise. There's just enough detail and Star Wars-centric techno-jargon to make it sound authentic, but not enough to become tedious.
These home runs aside, the novel does present a bit of a quagmire for continuity freaks, in that we now have at least three different EU versions of who was responsible for the Death Star's design. These potential problems are given lip service within the first ten pages: Qwi Xux, Bevel Lemelisk, the Geonosians, and the Maw Installation are all mentioned in an attempt to tie together the various fragmentary accounts of who was responsible, and, while the temptation is there to roll your eyes at the amount of retconning going on, the quality of the rest of the novel and the fact that they even attempted to appease hardcore fans in this manner earns them a fair bit of slack.
The explanation actually works reasonably well; given that it is such a massive project, you can believe that all these different folks were involved at some point in the enormously long construction process.
In the interests of remaining objective (and taking the fanboy edge off of my first 5-saber rating), the novel does have its share of flaws. Foremost among them is the characterization of Tarkin. He bears little resemblance to the coldly efficient Peter Cushing, spending more time oogling the beautiful Admiral Daala than displaying the ruthlessness which made him something of an Imperial icon in his own right.
Also of minor annoyance is the retconning of Teras Kasi into a widely known martial art. Previous instances of the style in the canon have been both brief and rare, whereas in Death Star we get an Imperial stormtrooper/prison guard who actually teaches it to classes of troops and inmates in his spare time.
Finally, the librarian Atour feels like a late addition to the otherwise fully realized cast. He's a bit of a cliché, but worse, he's very incomplete, which works against the effectiveness of his emotional decision during the novel's climax. I'd have preferred a few more chapters to get inside his head, but then, I could say the same for all of the characters on account of enjoying them so completely.
These quibbles aside, Death Star is an enormously entertaining read, particularly if you grew up with the original films and still get lumps in your throat when watching Episode IV. The nostalgia is thick enough to cut with a vibroknife, but its never overbearing, as the authors have skillfully woven a large cast of new characters into a tapestry of events that we only thought we knew well.
Books like Death Star are, sadly, few and far between in the EU (the last actually being the Medstar duology courtesy of the same author team). The story is that of the common man, and it adds a layer of authenticity and richness to the Star Wars that you think you know. Lest we forget (mainly on account of Lucasfilm/Arts/Books constantly beating us over the head with Jedi), the vast majority of the galaxy's denizens are ordinary people, living in and dealing with extraordinary circumstances. This is the Star Wars you love and remember, and it's a vibrant, living universe that you'll want to revisit time and again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
