There’s less to tie this one into a coherent single plot like there was with The Paradise Snare, but The Hutt Gambit still has much going for it. Unlike Snare which took place over a few months, Gambit covers about two years, taking us from roughly 5 years before the Battle of Yavin, down to about 3 years beforehand. Events are more spaced out, and on top of that two trilogies of stories, written back in the very earliest days of Star Wars’ Expanded Universe of books – the Han Solo Adventures, published 1979, and the Lando Calrissian Adventures, published 1983 – take place right in the middle. Crispin must skip over the events of those books, and yet reference them pretty heavily given the interleaved time periods involved. If you haven’t read these early adventure stories – and I remember that I hadn’t when I read The Hutt Gambit for the first-time way back in the day – you are left with the distinct feeling that you’ve missed out on a sizeable chunk of story. It’s nice that Crispin is so attentive to interweaving with canon (or, what was then the canon), but it does give Gambit the feeling of some notable gaps. That’s probably the most significant bad point about this book. You can feel like you’re missing something.
The good point is that this feels much more like the Han Solo we know. This is not the teenager of Snare who, despite his street upbringing, has an awful lot of romance and a certain idealistic naivety to him, an uncertainty of what he is doing and where he is going. Gambit presents us with a Solo who has settled comfortably into his adult identity, who has confidence about striking out on his path of the smuggler’s life and his ability to handle what it can throw at him. He’s more cynical and wiser to the dangers, cons, and double-crosses that lie ahead. As a result, the character is more familiar to us and I think more likeable as we begin to recognise someone we know.
But I have to say I appreciated the world building and thought that was a huge bonus for this book. Yes, Crispin references characters originally presented by Vonda McIntyre in The Crystal Star but she makes them her own. Han’s old smuggling buddies in Crystal Star felt like they were missing a lot of context. Here they feel like Crispin’s own because she provides us with that context, shows us their personalities more extensively and exactly what dynamics the young Han had with them all. She spends a lot of time on literal world-building too, and Nar Shaddaa feels suitably dingy, I felt like I was slumming it along with Han and Chewie, but at the same time is really made and brought to life by the vibrancy of the characters and their vitality. Crispin succeeded in getting me invested in these colourful personalities, and so when the battle swings around, I cared quite a bit about the outcome.
Speaking of the battle, I think this was really well done, and not because it was the biggest or flashiest battle in Star Wars – because it clearly wasn’t, I mean the Imperial forces descending on them are paltry, kind of bottom of the barrel of what the Empire can muster. But it mattered firstly because as aforementioned Crispin vividly brought Nar Shaddaa’s inhabitants to life and you don’t want them to die, and second because the smugglers are a ramshackle group who can barely muster a defence against some of the worst the Empire can offer. That gives this battle huge tension! The big guns, the big names, even, are absent (well, apart from a teeny unnamed cameo), and yet people are afraid of the Empire, and there are unscrupulous folk all over the galaxy willing to serve. It shows what a monumental challenge any resistance – and the Rebel Alliance, later on – faces. That gives the battle a lot of meaning, and the clever thinking required to cajole a draw out of the situation is entertaining to read about.
I want to mention, finally, an element that was a surprising positive element to the story, and that is the Hutts. The impression we get of the Hutts in the original trilogy is, quite understandably, one of loathsome villains. And that they still are, Crispin doesn’t mess with what has been established. But by expanding on the species’ history and society, she actually makes reading about them interesting, and individual characters such as Jiliac, Jabba, and Durga, dare I say this, even somewhat likeable. There are moments when they struggle against unfair adversity, show clear intelligence, or appreciate or otherwise respect our hero, Han Solo. And I honestly feel this was a good thing, because instead of being stock villains, or worse, boring to read about, Crispin makes their parts quite fascinating and evokes a little empathy from the reader; the empathy of understanding while still disagreeing and condemning. Crispin deserves credit for that, I think. It’s kind of chilling to see the friendly relationship Han develops with them here, in light of how that will later turn into vicious hate.
Talk about the real Boba Fett: Fett gets his own chunk of page space in this book and we are explicitly told that he used to be Journeyman Protector Jaster Mereel before murdering someone cast him out and led him to becoming a bounty hunter and changing his name. I still prefer this to the clone nonsense. It feels far more impressive that he was just an ordinary guy who worked his way up from the bottom to become the deadly force that he became, rather than him just being a lesser copy of his dad. The former is way more badass than the latter.
I’d recommend this, to be sure. It makes my cut.
7 out of 10