I am obsessed with Adam Driver. If you are not obsessed with Adam Driver, I know not your constitution. I’ve become obsessed with the Star Wars movies episodes IX through XI and the sexy, tortured, full lipped character of Kylo Ren, who is the villain. I originally wrote “hero” by mistake, which shows how twisted my love is.
So enamored of Kylo, Rey, and the movies in general, I somewhat abashedly bought the books based on the movies. And boy do they kind of suck.
That’s not totally fair. As badly written as the first one is, the other two are middling to decent in construction. In The Force Awakens, the writer whips around from passive voice to first person to third person indiscriminately. The character descriptions are as deep as a puddle. Kylo and Rey are described in terms that are somehow both breathlessly overdramatic and woodenly dull. If I hadn’t seen the movies (multiple times…), I would have been bored by the characters. In all the books, the writers have the unfortunate habit of describing dialogue with constant modifiers: “he sneered,” “she retorted,” “she pondered.” It’s probably my MFA training, but it makes me grumpy.
The last book, The Rise of Skywalker, is written a bit better than the other two books. At least the ending was closer to the drama of the movie.
My final, and unfair, complaint is it’s not full of enough sexual tension between Kylo and Rey (Reylo, as we the fixated say). These books are sort of on the level of kids lit, really, which I soon discovered when all the encounters between the heroine and the villain were drained of the intensity shown in the movies. Dammit, I wanted some hot scenes! Why isn’t his liquid black eyes staring longingly at her lips? Why isn’t he thinking about her body, or she about his? I protest!
Basically I couldn’t judge the books on their own terms. I wanted to stoke my obsession and instead read the books with bored sighs. That’s what I get for reading a space opera hoping for a porno.