If I Didn’t Love Nerdy Books So Much, I Never Would Have Written One, by Ryan Britt

Of course, I didn’t stick with just Star Trek and Star Wars novels, but I feel very lucky that they were, in many ways, my introduction to loving and devouring books. If there’s one way to think about my essay collection other than as a smattering of my thoughts on sci-fi and fantasy, it’s this: there are a lot of other books inside my book. I’ve stuffed many of my favorite books and writers inside it, like a tiny, book-shaped TARDIS: infinitely bigger and more bookish on the inside.
From Kurt Vonnegut, to Sherlock Holmes, to Harry Potter, to Melville, to Dickens, and on and on, I would have never become as confident about waxing philosophical about my “geeky truths” if it weren’t for my absolute devouring of really nerdy books as a kid. At 12 years old, did I read Dark Apprentice—the second in the Jedi Academy Trilogy— in one sitting? You bet I did. And my memory of going to bed that night: a warm Arizona summer’s night breeze drifted in my window, the whispers of all those great over-the-top characters permeating my sleep-state. Would Kyp Durron use the Sun-Crusher to destroy the galaxy? Would he fly toward our sun next?
In many ways, I’ve never woken up from that particular dream. Not that Dark Apprentice is the best book ever, or even the best Star Wars book; it’s just that I remember how I was so thoroughly lost in it. In my years writing about science fiction and fantasy as a kind of chimera hybrid of fan/critic/memoirist, I’m constantly reminded that I really should check on that 12-year-old if I ever get the chance to time-travel. I’m not sure everything in my book would be totally appropriate for him to read, but I feel like he could dig it.

And the reason I know that is because, in most ways, I’ve always been a little bit of a science fiction critic. Not an angry fanboy or nitpicker, but someone who was concerned with, well, larger questions of tone. Case in point: during the initial comic book run of Shadows of the Empire, I wrote a letter to Dark Horse Comics complaining about the dialogue spoke by members of Rogue Squadron. Basically, I thought it didn’t sound like them. This was a feeling I had. I wasn’t pointing out plot-holes or inconsistencies within the Star Wars canon, or the blatant fact that the assassin droid IG-88 seems to die like eight different ways. No. I was focusing on an aesthetic. At 14 years old, I wanted not only to get lost in stories, but also to understand what it was that made them work, or occasionally, why they slipped. I didn’t have any literary training, nor had I taken courses in writing dialogue. It was just a feeling. And like Obi-Wan Kenobi told us: you’ve got to trust your feelings.
It would be easy to say the existence of my book is a direct line from that moment, but of course, there have been twists and turns along the way. Before deciding to try and put out an essay collection, I was working somewhat seriously on a somewhat serious novel. In many ways, it was a novel that I found I myself didn’t want to read. If you don’t want to read something, it very difficult to write it. Isaac Asimov once said that he really enjoyed reading his own writing, and I think that’s because he captured a certain kind of voice (at least in his non-fiction) that seemed like you were hanging out with him. Luke Skywalker Can’t Read is my attempt to do that, and I’ve discovered that I actually do enjoy re-reading it. I’m nowhere as good as Asimov, and I’m not nearly as the folks who have actually written Star Wars novels. But I do think I’m having fun in these essays, and I hope you have fun reading them.
The only thing is, when you make fun into your career, you suddenly aren’t sure of the difference between something “serious” and something “frivolous.” Intellectually, I know getting really into Star Trek and Star Wars novels wasn’t a dive into “serious” reading. But do I know that to be true emotionally? If I reach out with my feelings, the answer is…I simply have no idea if there’s a difference between fun books and good books. Hopefully, the one I’ve written confuses someone exactly in the same way.
Order Ryan’s book, available November 24.