It's 1991. I'm seventeen, it's Christmas, and Mom and Dad just gave me Heir to the Empire, a brand new novel that continues the adventures of Luke Skywalker and company. I read it that night.

It's awful.

So are all the other Star Wars spinoffs that come out over the following years. Comic books and novels, RPGs and card games, even the Super Nintendo games just don't live up to the movies. We watch them over and over in college, creating elaborate drinking games ("Drink every time Luke whines!" someone yelled when we fired up Star Wars. "Christ," I muttered, "we'll be unconscious before they get to Mos Eisley.") and yelling along with the movie. (To this day, I can still do a great R2-D2 screech.)

I still miss the movies.