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A review by twilliamson
Champions of the Force by Kevin J. Anderson
2.0
It's hard to judge the quality of a book like Champions of the Force on its own merit, as it essentially has none. It's not a book with good prose, it doesn't have robust characterization or deep philosophical themes, and it isn't even particularly well-plotted. It's a novel tie-in to a corporate media franchise, and is essentially as soulless as that sounds.
Nevertheless, something changed in me as I read through Champions of the Force. Whereas Anderson's previous two novels in the Jedi Academy Trilogy were absolute garbage, I found myself oddly nostalgic for the garbage as the trilogy concluded. This book isn't good--I'd barely even call it a book if it weren't for the fact that it is printed on pages bound into a single volume and contains a story about characters doing things--but it's kind of sweetly innocent. Maybe I'm just less cynical about the book being so desperate to have its cake and eat it too, but I felt like I had given up trying to resent Anderson for trying to write his terribly plotted trilogy and just accepted that nothing I can do will change this steaming pile of trash into a fragrant mound of sweet clover. The book will be what it will be, and perhaps I can accept its many flaws for the benefit of moving on with my life.
Luke Skywalker, again the Jedi Master of this trilogy, features in this book for approximately 15% of its length. His Jedi apprentices become full Jedi Knights at the end of the book. I'm unsure of how or why they are able to do so, considering that Luke is barely in this whole fucking trilogy and not even a third of the trilogy's total length so much as focuses on their training, but in a trilogy featuring blob racing, extreme downhill skiing, and a prototype Death Star piloted by committee, I've learned to just give up hoping it could be good.
The result of my reading of Champions of the Force is that I simply give up trying to think of this book as anything other than a terrible, terrible novel, and the thought made the book so much more fun for me. Rather than seeing its absolute stupidity as its weakness, I came to recognize its fundamental idiocy as the whole point of its charm. This is a stupid book for stupid people like me who don't know how to value their time, and that's really, really funny to me.
Honestly, I'll be fine if I never read Champions of the Force, or any of Anderson's trilogy, again. I know I will read it again, because I have no taste, but I would be fine if I never read it again. I'm fine even having read it, because life is meaningless and these books don't fucking matter. There's peace in that, a tranquility in idiocy that becomes a soothing balm for the burning dogshit of the rest of the world. Sometimes, it's fine to let a bad book just be a bad book, and embrace that it could still be fun--whether ironically or not.
So good job, Champions of the Force. You didn't ruin Star Wars for me. You didn't help me love it any more, but you didn't ruin it. You kept me involved for a week of reading at a stupid, no good time in the world, and that makes you better than I expected.
Now stop making fucking Death Stars and other superweapons, it's already a fucking tired trope.
Nevertheless, something changed in me as I read through Champions of the Force. Whereas Anderson's previous two novels in the Jedi Academy Trilogy were absolute garbage, I found myself oddly nostalgic for the garbage as the trilogy concluded. This book isn't good--I'd barely even call it a book if it weren't for the fact that it is printed on pages bound into a single volume and contains a story about characters doing things--but it's kind of sweetly innocent. Maybe I'm just less cynical about the book being so desperate to have its cake and eat it too, but I felt like I had given up trying to resent Anderson for trying to write his terribly plotted trilogy and just accepted that nothing I can do will change this steaming pile of trash into a fragrant mound of sweet clover. The book will be what it will be, and perhaps I can accept its many flaws for the benefit of moving on with my life.
Luke Skywalker, again the Jedi Master of this trilogy, features in this book for approximately 15% of its length. His Jedi apprentices become full Jedi Knights at the end of the book. I'm unsure of how or why they are able to do so, considering that Luke is barely in this whole fucking trilogy and not even a third of the trilogy's total length so much as focuses on their training, but in a trilogy featuring blob racing, extreme downhill skiing, and a prototype Death Star piloted by committee, I've learned to just give up hoping it could be good.
The result of my reading of Champions of the Force is that I simply give up trying to think of this book as anything other than a terrible, terrible novel, and the thought made the book so much more fun for me. Rather than seeing its absolute stupidity as its weakness, I came to recognize its fundamental idiocy as the whole point of its charm. This is a stupid book for stupid people like me who don't know how to value their time, and that's really, really funny to me.
Honestly, I'll be fine if I never read Champions of the Force, or any of Anderson's trilogy, again. I know I will read it again, because I have no taste, but I would be fine if I never read it again. I'm fine even having read it, because life is meaningless and these books don't fucking matter. There's peace in that, a tranquility in idiocy that becomes a soothing balm for the burning dogshit of the rest of the world. Sometimes, it's fine to let a bad book just be a bad book, and embrace that it could still be fun--whether ironically or not.
So good job, Champions of the Force. You didn't ruin Star Wars for me. You didn't help me love it any more, but you didn't ruin it. You kept me involved for a week of reading at a stupid, no good time in the world, and that makes you better than I expected.
Now stop making fucking Death Stars and other superweapons, it's already a fucking tired trope.