How To Read Star Wars Books Novels & Stories

“And let me know how the Smith ones are, I've been meaning to check him out.” A few minutes later Janice lay down on her cot and gingerly opened one of the books. She was always careful with books she got from the library, especially those that came from other places. She had an almost obsessive fear of damaging one of them and being told she could no longer borrow books. The thought disturbed her so much that she started to flip past the title pages and began to read. Before long, she was drawn into the novel which seemed to be about two races of aliens and their struggles over a galaxy that would one day be called the Milky Way. She was totally engrossed in the narrative when the words beg

Regina’s gaze snaps to him in surprise, and her heart skips a beat when she finds Mattel, gazing down at the same book he’d read from before, a graceful finger tracing the lines. Regina’s eyes follow the other man’s finger - pointed and elegant and belying a hidden strength - as it sweeps across the words of the page; a habit Regina had envisioned him doing, countless times, as she’d studied the books Mattel had lent her and peered at the signs of wear. Mattel, the man who read a book on stars and constellations and the galaxy from cover to cover, retracing the lines until the pages thinned with his attentions.

“So how did he find The Phantom Menace then?” “Well. He did not quite burn George Lucas in effigy. But from that day forth, his life was ruled by two great passions.” She laughed. Then winced. Then remembered why she’d suggested Star Wars in the first place. “Aiden. You do know there’s, like, new new Star Wars, right? And it doesn’t suck.” “Really?” “Yep. Nobody says anything about midi-chlorians. And no trade routes are even remotely in dispute.” “That does sound rather more like the Star Wars my father enjoyed.”

He turned to scan the old, pressed-wood shelf to his right, the kind found at K-Mart or Wal-Mart and not requiring any real skill to assemble. He unconsciously rolled the eight ball in his hands as he scanned the shelves. These books offered a trip down memory lane. His teenage collection of Star Wars novels. At one time he could’ve made the proud declaration he owned every one. Even the hard-to-find Han Solo novels from the late seventies. He’d stopped collecting them halfway through college, though. Now he owned only a fraction of the franchise’s backlist.