Marko Kloos, author of Chains of Command, writes in to talk about the influential power of Star Wars and how much he wants a real life lightsaber.

In the year of our Sith Lord by Marko Kloos

Last fall, I accepted an invitation to the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs to be a guest speaker at the Eisenhower Center’s Space Forum. I was one of five invited writers that participated in a panel called “Vision and the Future,” which focused on the role of science fiction in inspiring public support in general and the next generation of space professionals in particular.

The writers present ranged from the distinguished legend of the genre (Dr. Ben Bova, six-time Hugo winner) to the rank genre newcomer (me, zero-time Hugo winner). With five SF writers present on stage, the moderator and the cadets in attendance were encouraged to ask us questions. One of the first questions was, “If you could see one technology from science fiction made reality, which would it be?”

The answer from the authors was almost unanimous: lightsabers.

Five writers, covering the age range from the early 40s to the 80s, with all the fictional technologies thought up in fellow writers’ brains since the 1930s at their disposal for an answer, and we chose lightsabers. Such is the enduring and intergenerational power of Star Wars.

My kids are nine and 11. They’ve watched all the Star Wars movies, from the original trilogy to The Force Awakens, and yes — even the prequels, which have some fun moments among all the dreadful stuff. (I chalked it up to a complete education. In time, subjecting children to Jar Jar Binks may very well become a misdemeanor at the very least and warrant a visit from genre-savvy Child Protective Services agents.) But as much as they liked the whole series, it’s impossible to convey to them how much of an impact the original trilogy had on us when we were their age. Our kids are living in a golden age of inventive, exciting science fiction and superhero movies, special effect bonanzas that are unlike anything ever seen on a movie screen before. This is their normal. For us, Star Wars was such a cultural phenomenon because there was nothing like it before.

For me, Star Wars meant standing in a long line for Return of the Jedi in front of the Apollo Theater in Muenster, Germany in 1983 as a 12-year-old. It meant week-long lightsaber duels with my brother, utilizing all kinds of things as stand-ins for the sabers, and driving my mother nearly insane with the constant dueling. Long discussions with classmates on the feasibility of a real-world lightsaber, how cool it would be to own one, and the kind of shenanigans you could pull off with it. (It turned out that the lightsaber thing would remain firmly planted in my head as the coolest science fiction gadget for a long time, as the panel at the Air Force Academy would prove 30 years later.)

Star Wars meant validation. In the course of one summer, science fiction became mainstream. It was so influential on both the genre and popular culture that science fiction movies can be divided into two eras — Before Star Wars, and In The Year Of Our Sith Lord. Once George Lucas blew up the box office and demonstrated that science fiction was bankable, every major studio started rushing out their own SF projects. Science fiction became more than socially acceptable; it became a driving force in pop culture.

And then — in 2015 — Star Wars meant reliving the same feelings during the opening crawl of The Force Awakens, the same euphoria at the sound of the famous fanfare. And this time, the feelings come with the privilege of being able to pass the passion and fun on to my kids sitting next to me — Star Wars as an intergenerational family obsession.

Yes, it’s space opera, not hard science fiction. Yes, it has its narrative issues (particularly the prequels, which suffered from George Lucas’ desire to lend the movies more gravitas by tying current-day political disagreements into his storyline and not repackaging them very well.) Yes, the first movie, Episode IV, is a bog-standard Campbellian Hero’s Journey. Yes, the series has a mysticism undercurrent that makes it more fantasy than science fiction — the Force is unexplained (in the original trilogy) or badly-explained (via pseudo-scientific veneer in the prequels), and, in essence, is Space Magic.

But you know what? When that opening crawl begins and the fanfare starts up, it doesn’t matter, because our generation eats it up willingly. Because it’s spaceships and lightsabers and awful villains, camp and unexpected profundity, friendship and loyalty, blasters and rogues, and because it’s all terrific fun even when it’s predictable and campy. Because of all of that, we’re now raising the second generation that’s happy to shell out the cash and stand in line for more.

Sometimes I get asked if Star Wars had any influence on my own writing, or my desire to become a writer. The answer to that is more complex than a simple yes or no or somewhat. Everything I watched and read during my formative years has had an influence on my writing, and that’s probably true for every science fiction or fantasy writer. Aliens showed me that a worn-out and grungy future can be as compelling as a shiny utopia, for example, and that even secondary characters in a military adventure can be fully realized people instead of one-dimensional cardboard. Star Trek showed me that you can tell adventure tales that address present-day social issues without sapping the fun out of the narrative. And Star Wars — the biggest influence on my pop culture world when I was growing up — taught me the sense that our genre has a spot for grand adventure, that there’s no limit to the canvas on which we can paint, and that the plot and the scientific accuracy aren’t even the primary requisites for a good story, not even in science fiction. That the story stands and falls not with the intricacies of plot or science, but with the world you manage to create and the characters that inhabit it. Make a compelling world and interesting characters — good, bad, do-gooder, flawed, evil — and you have the base ingredients for a fun time. And Star Wars, for all its flaws, is as fun a time as they come.

‘Chains of Command’ synopsis and excerpt

The assault on Earth was thwarted by the destruction of the aliens’ seed ship, but with Mars still under Lanky control, survivors work frantically to rebuild fighting capacity and shore up planetary defenses. Platoon sergeant Andrew Grayson must crash-course train new volunteers—all while dulling his searing memories of battle with alcohol and meds.

Knowing Earth’s uneasy respite won’t last, the North American Commonwealth and its Sino-Russian allies hurtle toward two dangerous options: hit the Lanky forces on Mars or go after deserters who stole a fleet of invaluable warships critical to winning the war. Assigned to a small special ops recon mission to scout out the renegades’ stronghold on a distant moon, Grayson and his wife, dropship pilot Halley, again find themselves headed for the crucible of combat—and a shattering new campaign in the war for humanity’s future.

Giveaway

We’re giving away a whole set of the Frontlines series by Marko Kloos. This giveaway is open to U.S. residents only.

About the author

Marko Kloos was born and raised in Germany, in and around the city of Münster. In the past, he was a soldier, bookseller, freight dockworker, and corporate IT administrator before he decided that he wasn’t cut out for anything other than making up stuff for a living. He writes primarily science fiction and fantasy, his favorite genres since his youth, when he spent most of his allowance on German sci-fi pulp serials. He resides in New Hampshire with his wife, two children, and a roving pack of vicious dachshunds.