It's difficult to resist Ellen Randolph's interpretation of the STAR WARS universe.

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Title: It's difficult to resist Ellen Randolph's interpretation of the STAR WARS universe. (The essay does not have a title; the title used here on Fanlore is the first sentence of the essay.)
Creator: Maggie Nowakowska
Date(s): 1988
Medium: print
Fandom: Star Wars
Topic:
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It's difficult to resist Ellen Randolph's interpretation of the STAR WARS universe is a 1988 essay by Maggie Nowakowska.

It was printed as one of the three prefaces to Sanctuary.

Some Topics Discussed

Excerpts

It's difficult to resist Ellen Randolph's interpretation of the STAR WARS universe. The first Sanctuary story I read was "Father and Sons." I was delighted by this glimpse at Han Solo in his forties: a Star Fleet officer and responsible family man, definitely his age yet still able to sit in a saloon to nurse a drink and his daily grumbles; and to dispatch a sour vision from the Bad Old Days with familiar Solo aplomb. In other words, to be true to his mainstream SW character, no matter his changed circumstances.

Randolph draws all her characters and their relationships as skillfully. It isn't until you simply must know who's going to say what to whom next, that you realize she has slipped in — oh so carefully, with an off-hand gesture that's easy to disregard at first — an Abstract Idea.

Theme, not always present in fiction and often absent in derivative literature, is necessary to produce a memorable tale. Still, without the grounding of people and place, theme remains an Idea and easily turns into an editorial, an essay, a polemic — not a story. Good storytellers entwine their ideas so deftly in dialogue and action that the reader believes the discovery of the Idea is a result of her own cogitation and perception. Often, in fact, it is the reader who first de scribes such themes to the amazed writer, who has relied on instinct, not conscious political goals, for a guide through the complexity of successful storytelling.

STAR TREK, amid all its adventure, had such notion: harmonious relationships among diverse people, IDIC in all its various permutations. The most enduring STAR TREK fan fiction has been that which has combined this thane with the human factor. What a reader might remember about a story is the people and their problems, but the glue that holds the telling together, that supports the structure needed for those characters to come alive, is that Idea.

SW fan stories are as much indulgence and wish fulfillment as any literature without SW own abstractions: primarily, the exploration of an individual's moral stance in respect to the universe. Which is not to deride writers who invite others simply to romp in the SW universe; rather, it is to celebrate those authors, like Randolph, who accept the challenge Lucas laid down when he darkened his bright hero's dreams and dragged Leia and Han, as well as Luke, out of adolescence onto the edge of

maturity with all its exhilarating and dangerous demands.

In a fandom of alternates, the Sanctuary universe stands out as a complete work based fully on the three movies. To cope with the plot contradictions of ANH was a challenge, but a solvable exercise for many authors; adding TESB to the source material complicated the fan writer's task considerably, however, and JEDI was unmerciful in its sophisticated shading of the first movie's simple character presentation. Further, the Saga is a presentation that demands incredible audience self- definition. No writer dares assume that the readers can easily accept a particular interpretation of character, of a motivation, or even of an actual action.

For her vision of SW Ellen Randolph has maintained the Saga's emphasis on individual relationships, quandaries, and actions, using her energies for development rather than definition. She concentrates on the personal conflicts that Lucas presented in the trilogy.

No matter the politics of Randolph's universe or the philosophical conundrums dropped in each of her characters' laps, the relationships with family, friends, and conscience that Randolph spins for a person are of foremost consideration. Randolph pushed the SW characters and her own, stretching then and demanding more of then than they are often willing to give; and when she has made each of them stand forth, let go, and then acknowledge what they have learned, she is not afraid to make then face the consequences of their new status.

Randolph demands catharsis in her stories. Her people, caught in A Situation, do not take that extra second to swallow their words; how they feel is stated and laid out for assessment, and they demand satisfaction. They cone to terms with love, hate, and fate — and they do it now. One of my favorite lines in the series describes how Luke and Leia both have managed to "marry the only people in the galaxy who could render them cross-eyed furious in ten seconds flat." Here, such fury is not necessarily destructive, but rather indicative of the strong personalities involved and of the necessity of self-respect. Randolph believes in feelings, dashed with sentiment; she insists on confrontation and writes so that her readers share the release she is careful to provide her characters. Fortunately for all of us, she also provides delightful dollops of reprieve from the thunder. Her characters joyfully, and as often as circumstances allow, tumble into each other's arms. In Sanctuary, the lust for power is always balanced, and usually conquered by, the lust for love and life.

It is within this emotional framework that Randolph establishes her first clear theme: inter-dependency. Taking the trio of heroes presented in the Saga, she extrapolates their dependency on one another in the movies throughout their entire lives, expanding the connections to include friends and family until not one of these extraordinarily strong characters is ever alone again — no matter how much she might want to be. Randolph builds her webs with a sure hand for dialogue and catch-22s; she is not obvious. The ties that contain what could be unholy ambition in Leia are more intricate and deeply rooted than even her fierce love of Han Solo's bonds are likewise subtle, for all that they are celebrated in his love for Organa.


It is through Luke Skywalker and his life and its problems, though, that the main matters for examination appear. Luke's dependencies on others are the measures that hold him and his abilities to a stable life. His emotions, well pummeled in the filmed Saga, cannot escape center stage as the consequences of his fate as the last Jedi unfold. Here, Randolph's first idea blends into a second, broader concept: If personal interactions and ties keep the individual human, what needs and responsibilities enable that humanness to encompass and transcend corporeal boundaries to fulfill the potential of Yoda's "luminous beings"?

It is a measure of Randolph's deft hand with character that this second theme, although hinted at and presented throughout the series, is not openly introduced until Revenge of the Sith and even then appears more through the reader's realization that Something Else Is Going On Here than through any trumpeting of intention. Only when the reader goes back through the opus do those earlier suggestions pop out, almost with the same sauciness that imbues the marital relations of her people. The Sanctuary universe can also claim a third major theme: the importance of family and community. Randolph's people are mothers and fathers as much as sons and daughters. The necessities of their mature private lives are detailed as carefully as any political maneuver, even more so. These are not heroes existing in a vacuum of action and adventure; these are not isolated lovers. There are children to feed and discipline and get in the way, children who grow to maturity themselves and whose own loves and hates must be incorporated into an existing order of life. Parents negotiate responsibilities between each other and among their other duties; fathers and mothers alike are affect ed in their lives by the antics and needs of their offspring. Even for heroes such as the Skywalkers, the Organas, and the Solos, there are limits of time, age, and community.

If there is an area in which the Sanctuary universe slips a bit quickly around the comers of its unfolding, it is in the presentation of its politics. Certain events must happen if history is to unfold as Randolph has seen, but she is impatient with the details of those necessities. While with characterization and the intricacies of relationships, Randolph is meticulous, with the greater plot demands she paints a much broader picture.

Always the personal intrudes, sometimes with an abruptness that can feel contrived, although it may simply be the result of speed, of boredom. In a scene just after Han has been rescued from Jabba, the problems of his and Leia's relationship encounter awkward plot demands. Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, Lando, and Leia must re-establish Han's place within the Rebellion, must discover a way to persuade him to remain with them. Solo's feelings for Organa are one possible persuasion point, as might be expected with leaders who work work every angle of a difficult situation. Throughout this pragmatic and necessary discussion, Randolph handles the commanders abruptly and all too quickly injects reactions that are intensely personal, that jolt a reader familiar with both Organa's and Calrissian's hard-nosed and politically deft personalities. It is almost as if Randolph is saying, "Okay, here's the scam. Mothma's desperate, Ack bar's hungry, Madine's an idiot, and the Alliance can be as hard-nosed as the Empire. Now can we get back to the really important stuff, like what is Leia feeling about such manipulation and how is Han going to react?"

On the whole, whenever the political situation gets complicated, Randolph switches to heart and family, which may be another reason the philosophical complications of Sith take one by surprise. I would be the last one to argue, though, that curt political manipulations negate Sanctuary's validity. The community effort Randolph wants to portray in her stories is not the development of a new Alliance, but the unfolding of the new Jedi.

Of all the SW fan stories I have ever read, Randolph's universe best establishes the isolation of the Jedi, post-Empire. Over and over, Luke must rediscover what were once accepted truths; again and again, he and his people suffer from his/their ignorance. What keeps Luke and the Jedi going is what keeps the reader turning the page: the small victories, the personal triumphs that satisfy the soul and premise that the way travelled is indeed the correct one, for all its bumps and detours.

No discussion of the Sanctuary universe is complete without specific mention of the prime relationship in the stories, that of Luke and Jessalyn. A major sorrow in this Luke's life is his slow recovery from the mental rape he suffered at Palpatine's hands while on the Death Star. Somehow, if Randolph's themes of connection and grounding are to be fulfilled in Skywalker's life, the fear of intimacy that is Luke's legacy from the emperor must be conquered.

Enter difficult, obstinate, and often exasperating Jessalyn, who is too young to remember Luke Skywalker the Hero or Luke Skywalker the Alderaani Prince. Child of war and Jedi of exile, Jessalyn's life has been tied to the hard physical realities of life; Luke may have his unbreakable ties to the past, but Jessalyn lives new, today, this moment. How Randolph blends these distinct personalities into a strong, if stonry, union is delightful. They spend a lifetime trying to understand each other, learning from each other; and if, in truth, there is much they will never share, they are better people for their dependence on each other. A warning: the reader's involvement with Luke and Jessalyn is likely to be as rocky a ride as the Jedi's. Be ready to long to bounce both of themoff walls at any number of points in the stories!

References