Mark Twain once said that every character in a story should have “sufficient excuse for being there” (Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses). Each of the dramatis personae has to pull their weight, contributing to the narrative arc. It’s best if they can do this without messing up any of the other characters’ arcs while they do this.
This applies to Keir Demati (sp?), the male lead and love interest in Claudia Gray’s Leia: Princess of Alderaan. Keir is one of Leia’s classmates, for lack of a better word, in the junior Senator program that exists under Emperor Palpatine (this book takes place three years before A New Hope). He’s smart, brave, and just as committed to justice as Leia is. He’s also exceptionally handsome, with thick shining black hair that Leia wishes he would grow longer—one of several fleeting moments in the book that could be taken as foreshadowing of Leia’s son Kylo/Ben. (There were plenty of those in Bloodline, too. I’m starting to think Gray is as much of a Kylo fangirl as I am). Leia’s parents, Bail and Brea Organa, like Keir right away, although Brea does tell her daughter that nice boys and “scoundrels” (cough) can make equally good boyfriends.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with Keir—nothing wrong with him himself. But his and Leia’s relationship is reciprocal, takes up a lot of the story, and is possibly implied to be consummated (I guess it depends on how far you take the metaphor of him unbraiding her hair).
Whether or not there was an exchange of virtue involved, this messes up Leia’s arc for the original film trilogy. Carrie Fisher once said that she played Leia like a young, sheltered girl just starting to notice men in earnest, and Han was not only the love of her life but also her first real crush.
This makes perfect sense in the context of the films, and adds to the sense of both complementarity and friction between these two characters—he’s selfish and she’s selfless; he knows when to cut his losses and she’s stubborn; he believes in money and she believes in valor; he’s practical and she’s idealistic; he’s down-to-earth and she’s privileged; he’s worldly and she’s naïve. When he asks for her love, she pushes him away; when she seeks comfort from him, he makes her beg for it. They can’t stand each other, but they can’t bear to be separated. I suppose this could still work if she had had one serious boyfriend before him, but the impact of the attracting opposites is diminished by it.
And of course Keir is doomed, because he’s not in A New Hope. Here we come to a common problem among prequels generally—it’s strange when the characters you meet in them, no matter how important they are in the context of the prequel itself, have vanished by the time the original story begins. See the Hobbit movies—if Tauriel were really in the story, someone would have remembered. One doesn’t see an Elf-maid with knee-length red hair striking down scores of orcs with mastery of a dozen weapons every day. (Not hating on those movies or on Tauriel—I actually like them both, sue me—just pointing out a common flaw). If Leia had had a boyfriend who was martyred for the cause, surely he should have been mentioned at some point during the three films. It’s shown in the book to be a traumatic event. Memories like that don’t evaporate in three years—if anything, Keir and what happened to him should have rendered interacting with Han all kinds of triggering for Leia.
The same, to a much lesser extent, goes for Amylin Holdo, who has supposedly been a leader of the Rebels/Resistance all this time but is just showing up now in Episode VIII. She didn’t need to appear in the actual movies—it’s a big galaxy and needed a big Rebel army—but a reference to her or something would have been nice.
I would argue that Princess of Alderaan should have largely bypassed the romance in favor of being a friendship story. Keir dies at age sixteen. His story ends here. Amylin, on the other hand, will be in The Last Jedi. If she and Leia were friends once, as the marketing proclaims, but the general audience hasn’t seen that because Amylin wasn’t created at the time of the original trilogy, then the main job of this book should have been to sell their adolescent friendship and how the tragic circumstances of their adult lives have driven them apart.
Their interactions were easily the best part of the book for me. The contrast between the two girls—our driven, grouchy, uptight, conservative heroine and her airy-voiced, eccentric, peace-loving, possibly pansexual classmate who is shrewd and level-headed under that quirky persona—makes for great comedy. Imagine a book set in the sixties where a buttoned-up Goldwater girl spends the summer with her daisy-chain wearing, perpetually stoned and barefoot hippie cousin, and while they get on each other’s nerves they learn from each other. Then put that story in space, and make the first girl one of the most beloved characters in pop culture. We have a win!
And it’s not that boys can’t be part of this story. They just shouldn’t be the focus. See Shannon Hale’s excellent Bayern novels, which have plenty of romance but the beating heart of the story is the friendship between Isi and Enna, and eventually Dasha and Rin.
And those of you who are hankering for a major romantic plotline, know that there’s a boy right around the corner. He’s a great pilot, he shoots first, and he’s nice men.
I don’t know who to blame for this misapplied focus. Was it Gray being a typical YA author and defaulting to familiar territory? Was it Disney and their famous preoccupation with romance? Eh.
I do like Gray’s writing. There’s nothing poetic about it, but it flows nicely and she gives just enough detail to bring the reader into the Star Wars universe without overwhelming you with the sheer weirdness of its flora and fauna.
And Gray just gets Leia. I admit that I am new to the Star Wars fandom—I didn’t see any of the movies until senior year of high school, and while I liked them a lot they didn’t hook me on the deep level that Lord of the Rings or Narnia did. I found Luke, Leia and Han all likeable characters (though Obi-Wan will probably always be my favorite) but, sadly, it wasn’t until Carrie Fisher died and was mourned with a thousand hot takes and op-eds, most of them Leia-centric, that I really appreciated this character.
She was incredibly brave, determined, dedicated, sassy, and self-sacrificing. She saw her home planet blown up without a single survivor and kept marching on despite her deep grief. She kept her secrets under torture, and when two rather clueless young men and a Wookie broke in to rescue her, she kept her head and wound up rescuing them. She did all this without ever coming across as masculinized or (excuse the French) “bitchy.” She had the potential to be a powerful Jedi, but gave that up to remain a soldier and look for practical solutions. Leia was awesome, in short, and I’m sorry that it took Carrie’s untimely passing for me to notice. (Same with David Bowie. I am a terrible person).
And I am happy to report that this is the Leia who shows up in Gray’s writing—in Bloodline as a mature woman devoted to her cause, and here in Princess of Alderaan as a bright, precocious, somewhat spoiled girl just coming into her own.
Unfortunately, like many YA books now, there just wasn’t enough story to justify 409 pages. Many of the trips didn’t seem to move the narrative forward. Granted, my standards might be a little harsh. I was honestly hoping this would be like one of Scholastic’s Royal Diaries IN SPAAAACE—those are about half the length of this and the plots are tighter. One of the best was the one about Mary, Queen of Scots, where she and her ladies-in-waiting had to catch a rapist without angering his ally, Queen Catherine. The 90s-early 2000s were a great time for juvenile and YA historical fiction, for those of you too young to remember. Anyway…
This is fun reading for Star Wars fans ages thirteen and up, but I wouldn’t call it essential. So far my favorite new canon book by Gray is definitely Bloodline.
P.S. There is a Narnia reference in the first chapter of this book and it is awesome and I love it. Also there’s a Lizzy Bennet quote embedded in something Brea says to Leia in the middle. So there’s that.