My history with Claudia Gray’s Star Wars novels hasn’t been very positive. Her first, Lost Stars, was one of the early entries in the new canon, and it has a lot of fans—but for a number of reasons, I didn’t care for it. Nor did I enjoy her two Leia-focused books, Bloodline and Leia: Princess of Alderaan.
But then I read her short story, “Master and Apprentice,” in From a Certain Point of View, and it was by far one of the best things I’ve read in the new canon. That story offered a quiet, reflective glimpse into Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s ongoing friendship during Obi-Wan’s exile on Tatooine.
And so I came to the full-length novel Master and Apprentice with uncertain expectations—little confidence in Gray’s ability to keep a novel-length SW story going, but cautious optimism because of the beauty of the short story featuring the same pair of characters. Added to these author-specific expectations, of course, was the fact that this novel is a prequel of sorts to one of my least favorite SW movies, The Phantom Menace—though I do love it when any author can make the prequel era better than it seemed to be in the movies.
What I wasn’t expecting at all was that Master and Apprentice would be completely brilliant, one of the best SW novels I’ve read. Not only that, but it’s a book that makes me like The Phantom Menace and some of its characters much more than I would have believed possible. And it’s a novel that grows and deepens SW mythology in thoroughly satisfying ways. What an exhilarating surprise!
Gray’s success with this book comes largely because she crafts a SW story that deals with grown-up issues in a mature, thoughtful way. She isn’t piecing together a story simply to get to the big space battle (there’s almost none of that in this novel), and she mostly resists the urge to fill the pages with in-jokes and references to minor things from the movies (there are a just few moments where these references are a bit heavy-handed). The result is that Master and Apprentice doesn’t feel like merely another entry in a franchise; rather, it reads like a really good book that happens to take place in the SW galaxy.
The temptation for any SW author, I imagine, is to revise characters and events as we saw them in the movies. For characters from The Phantom Menace, there must be enormous temptation to offer slightly different, improved versions in a novel. Gray, however, takes Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as they’re presented to us in the movie. Qui-Gon is flawed, overly interior in his interpersonal relationships, puzzlingly cerebral—just as we see him in the movie. Seventeen-year-old Obi-Wan is . . . well, he’s kind of a smug little dork—full of himself, obsessively devoted to the rules of the Jedi order, a bit arrogant, sarcastic when he should be sincere and questioning. That’s how we see young Obi-Wan all throughout the prequel trilogy, and Gray gives us a younger version of exactly that character. The characters feel true, and thus the story around them works; everything allows us to face the awkwardness of the film but also adds depth to why that awkwardness is there.
These flawed characters don’t exist just to have cool lightsaber battles. In this story, they exist and interact (and conflict) in real ways. Gray explores the Master/Padawan relationship in all its strangeness and difficulty. She shows us Qui-Gon’s struggles, wanting to be a good mentor but often feeling that he’s exactly the wrong guide for Obi-Wan. That’s something that as a teacher, I can relate to. Obi-Wan must also work through the confusion of figuring out whether his mentor is proud of him, whether he’s on the right path, whether his teacher really wants to be teaching him at all. I can understand that, too, from when I was a grad student. These two characters and their evolving relationship are portrayed with care and nuance. The realism keeps the story unpredictable, even though I knew of course where these characters ultimately end up. As I read, however, I couldn’t predict exactly how they were going to get where they needed to be. That is so refreshing for a SW novel.
Gray successfully balances a few different narrative threads that come together at various points, and she creates new characters who are interesting and real. She starts with basic character sketches—a man who was raised by 81 3PO droids on a derelict ship; a woman who was taken into slavery as a child; a Jedi who has always felt (and acted) like an outsider—and builds characters who work really well. They never feel like mildly different versions of existing characters from the films (a problem that plagues SW writing). These are originals.
The basic plot, outside of the master/apprentice relationship, is a political intrigue story on a planet we haven’t seen before. I’ve often complained about SW novels, that the politics is always kept on a very juvenile level and not allowed to be as complex and real-world-mirroring as it might be. The politics in Master and Apprentice are as close as we’ve yet approached to genuinely intriguing, complex politics in SW. The Jedi face multiple unanswerable questions that test their loyalties and priorities: Is it right to abandon one planet to slavery in order to potentially save many other planets? Is it possible to be so focused on one good act that you can be blinded to evil that’s growing all around you? How much insubordination is allowable, and what justifies it? When is it right to report on the insubordination of a superior? I loved the layers of complexity built into every aspect of this story.
At the heart of the story is the question of prophecy, which has been the elephant in the galaxy ever since George Lucas brought prophecies into SW and then never explained what part they play in the story. The questions Gray wrestles with include: Were prophecies meaningful only in the time of those who made them? Do they predict specific events that have happened or are yet to happen? In trying to see into the future, are we really just trying to be in control of that future? All of that is rather more deep than SW usually gets, and it’s watching the characters (Qui-Gon in particular) confront those questions that’s most interesting, even more than reading and wondering about the texts of the prophecies themselves in light of the grand SW mythology. Some of the prophecies mentioned in the book make a lot of sense in reference to the movies (the prophecy of the Chosen One, finally given here, for example), and others seem still elusive (“He who learns to conquer death will through his greatest student live again” (288)—at this point, that seems like it could refer to any number of pairings in the movies, and perhaps will become clearer after Episode 9). But the real question through it all is: What is prophecy, really?
Having finished Master and Apprentice, I’m doing something I very rarely do after reading a SW novel: I’m pondering it. Most of these books are quickly read, as quickly forgotten. This one will stick with me. I’m sorry that I haven’t enjoyed most of Gray’s SW writing up to this point, but with Master and Apprentice she has created a fantastic SW story. I hope that, having found her groove, she will continue to contribute to building the mythology.