Since I’m reading this book with the full knowledge that this is her final book in the EU, I was paying particular attention to her characterization and plot contribution. And when reading
Sacrifice in that mindset, I must say it actually enhanced the experience for me. Things like the opening first-person monologue, the way her badass attitude still nets a familiar smile out of Luke even after all these years later, as well as all of her internal self-reflection of where her life has led her and the hope she has for her son have way more emotional weight to them. Her character is handled with a lot of respect and care, and the story overall feels very much like a swansong to her. Which, as someone who regards her as potentially my favorite female character in all of Star Wars (and one of the top candidates for Best Girl), that filled me with a lot of relief. I was petrifyingly worried that her send-off would feel like the same kind of empty afterthought as the character deaths in the Disney Sequels…but as with Chewbacca and Anakin Solo’s death prior, the EU handles the departure of a beloved character with the weight, nuance, and reverence that they deserve. Whatever faults Traviss may have—and believe me, she has ‘em—I’m profoundly grateful for at least providing that.
The book does a good job getting the reader into her head, and effectively uses long-running aspects of her character to achieve this. She finds it increasingly difficult to dictate morals to her own son, considering the kind of moral aloofness she back when she was the Emperor’s Hand…an inner conflict that Denning touched on briefly in
Dark Nest that makes a welcome return here. The family moments with the Skywalkers, particularly Mara and Ben, are sweet and endearing as they were for the first few books. And they have to be, considering what happens to one of them later in this book, and to make the emotional weight of that moment count. You really feel that sense of relief with Mara when she reunites with her son after he’s spent an entire book missing…and that moment when she promises him that “they’ll spend his birthday celebration as a family next year”
really hit me in the stomach, knowing that’ll never happen.
A scene with Mara that I really appreciated as a longtime fan of her was where she and Luke clash on how to deal with Lumiya. Luke, having seen flashes of non-lethal intent in Lumiya during their last encounter, believes in his typical altruistic heroism that she can still be redeemed. By contrast, Mara, having spent her life with sharpened and ruthless assassin instinct (even after becoming a Jedi), expresses frustration at Luke’s refusal to accept that certain people can’t be redeemed—and is now doubly angry now that Lumiya might be posing a threat to their son, and he’s still clinging to the possibility of redeeming her. They argue bitterly over who’s best suited to confront Lumiya once and for all, and Mara says this:
“She’s not your father, Luke. There’s nothing good left in her to redeem. She’s a threat that needs to be taken out, and that’s what I’m trained to do and you’re not. Forget this ‘take her alive if possible’ garbage. The only way anyone’s taking her is dead.”
This bout of Farmboy vs Assassin schools of thought is something that was very in-character for both participants, and nice to read, drawing on some of the long-running differences between Mara and Luke that date all the way back to their first meeting in
Heir To The Empire. Their opposite mindsets has always been what’s made their romance and marriage interesting, but here in
Sacrifice is one of the few instances in the EU after their marriage that it played a pivotal role in the story. It fleshes out Luke and Mara’s relationship just like their struggle with Mara’s illness and pregnancy in NJO did, and goes along way to suggest that their marriage isn’t picture perfect…and has all of the messy aspects that real marriages have. It’s what makes their relationship endearing, and in my opinion, why their romance is my favorite in Star Wars. And I found it welcoming and appropriate for the story to provide explicit reminders of that in Mara’s final EU outing.
It was also very cool to have Mara and Jaina team up in the search for Lumiya. With the former having been instrumental in Jaina’s Jedi Training between the events of Jedi Training between the events of
Young Jedi Knights and NJO, thus having spent a lot of time together, I was always curious why more authors didn’t economize more interactions between these two. I wanted to see more evidence of them knowing each other well, which I actually got in this book. The dialogue and banter between them is really fun, with Jaina’s plucky snark clashing well with Mara’s tough, no-nonsense attitude.
But once the final stretch of the book arrives, having full knowledge of what’s coming next adds a stomach-churning, heart-wrenching effect to the writing. There have been instances when reading the EU where I’ve been briefly rattled out of the story because of the onslaught of emotions; Mara and Luke’s confession in
Vision Of The Future, Han’s mournful withdrawal throughout early NJO, the flashes of warm familial bonding between the Solo parents and children, and of course, the death of characters like Anakin Solo and Nen Yim. All were exhaustively sad reads to be sure, but as I’ve stated since the outset of reading this story arc, LOTF has is unique in that instead of flashing moments of emotional resonance, it drives it into the reader slowly and painfully, almost as if the author is relishing the despair and heartbreak they’re creating. A particular moment where
Sacrifice achieved such an effect was when Mara—fresh from her last, failed desperate attempt to make Jacen see reason—slips into her apartment to suit up for her confrontation with Lumiya only to find an exhausted Luke asleep…and rather than wake him, she leans over and kisses him on the forehead, leaving a note that says:
Gone hunting for a few days. Don’t be mad at me, farmboy.
That was the moment, where I felt myself throat seize up. Because I knew, in the shaky pit of my stomach, that she wasn’t coming back. When you encounter a moment like that as a reader, with a character you’ve adored for years, knowing full well what’s coming, all you can do is feel helpless and heartbroken. Stirring that emotion organically, through prose and callbacks, is where I know the author has done an effective job in getting me to care about these characters.
…and then, the cruelest cut of all: the final battle between Mara and Jacen. What made this fight so hard to read was how dirty and raw it was; it didn’t have the sweeping gravitas or dignified drama of the rest of the usual Star Wars duels. It was like something out of a Frank Miller comic, an animalistic, wince-inducing affair: the barbaric snatching of hair, the savage bruising of flesh, as the characters are yanked further and further down to an ugly, desperate, and unsightly level, as both characters fight bitterly to protect what they love most. The fight does Mara’s skills and intuitions as a former Emperor’s Hand plenty of credit; the stealth and outfoxing allows her to reduce Jacen to a bloody pulp, and she gets the upper hand several times, including the penultimate moment where she almost kills him…and then, Jacen draws into his wellspring of unorthodox Force Powers, and inflicts the cruelest death on Mara. He assumes the appearance of her son, taking advantage of her maternal instincts to emotionally disarm her for just the right nanosecond to plunge poisoned needle-dart into her. That moment was beyond sad,
beyond cruel…just picturing the look on her face at that instant is the kind of
Star By Star-tier levels of heartbreak I didn’t think I’d experience again. The disgustingly-cruel maneuver leaves Mara, one of my favorite strong heroines of the EU lying paralyzed and helpless, poisoned and dying, while Jacen stands over her. Seeing someone so tough, so unshakeable reduced to a feeble and weak heap actually made it hard to read with how my eyes were welling up. The whole fight and final moment had the same gut-wrenching feel as Elektra’s infamous, pitifully-small and helpless death at the hands of Bullseye in the Frank Miller
Daredevil comics; watching a brazen, endearing female character reduced to shambles, humiliated at the feet of her killer. It has the same effectiveness, creating the same hollowing feeling in the pit of one’s stomach, to watch someone they care about go out like this. And yet, I didn’t feel like it was a cheap death—it was a cruel, hollowing one, the kind subjected to another favorite Star Wars character of mine, Nen Yim; the kind of death that forces us to watch the character crippled and helpless, where we want to see the killer get their dues for using such a low, cruel and infuriating means of subduing Best Girl. And where that death also made for an effectively agonizing and emotionally-sapping experience, this one is even better…thanks largely to the efforts of the author staging this event after making us bond with the heroine over the course of the book, and amplifying the tragedy significantly. Traviss could have easily made this send-off the same melodramatic joke as Han’s death or Luke’s fart of a final passing in the ST…something that leaves you feeling empty, and apathetic. But she very tactically plays with the readers’ emotions throughout the book, stoking in Mara’s inner emotions and thoughts, exhaustively working to funnel as much emotional investment into the character…in order to secure that heavy, puncturing moment of emotional devastation when she dies. Mara is my favorite female character in all of Star Wars, and one of my favorite characters period…and with all the revulsion and contempt geared towards LOTF online, this was the scene I was most nervous about after Jacen’s Downfall. If Mara’s death was done in a way I deemed unacceptable, or as a catastrophically disrespectful send-off to her character, I would be ending my first-timer EU traversal on this very spot. But it is my sincere belief—and immense relief, as a Mara Fan—that she received a death that was worthy of her; a passing that respectfully recognized her strength and skill, one that was preceded by the kind of self-reflection and closure necessary to give it a sense of weight and finality, and one that ripped at the heartstrings in all the ways that has made LOTF a masterful plunge into despair. The death of Mara Jade was not an empty afterthought like I was led to believe…and was treated with the same tasteful reverence as the previous major deaths in
New Jedi Order. In fact, out of all of LOTF’s countless homages and references to NJO, the most important thing it carries over is the authors’ unwavering efforts to give characters tragic and moving send-offs worthy of them…something that, as a huge fan of NJO, is the greatest thing I could hope for out of more post-NJO stories.
And just like NJO, the salt on the wound is everything that comes next: Ben screaming for his mom as he hears her name on her dying lips lightyears away through the Force…Luke feeling the memory of her hand through his hair as her presence disappears into the Force…Ben cradling Mara’s corpse in the tunnel, wanting to clean her bloody face and make her beautiful again…Luke bottling his anguish until he is alone, so that the rest of the Jedi don’t have to see the Grandmaster of the Order collapse into a sobbing, distraught heap…I found myself taking breaks to pick myself back up, the same way I did when
Star By Star described everyone feeling Anakin die through the Force. And this is all why I feel that Mara’s death was not only earned, but it was treated with heartfelt and exhaustive sensitivity by the story. Just like Anakin Solo, possibly even
more so, her death is not treated as an afterthought whatsoever—it leaves a smoldering mark on the remaining characters: it furthers the growth and full transformation of Jacen Solo, creates burning motivation for the remaining Skywalker Men. It’s a moment heard across the galaxy, tearing at the hearts and rattling characters inside and outside the Jedi Order…sending people like Clighal, Leia, Jaina and Han into petrified states of grief. Mara’s passing was treated as a moment of mountainous, galaxy-shattering importance, a defining and in-character send-off that will leave a lasting impact for several books to come…which as a massive fan of hers, is the best thing I could’ve asked for.