My God. I remembered something from my childhood today that may haunt me for the rest of my years.

I read the novelization of Return of the Jedi before seeing the movie.

Jesus Christ. It was the summer of 1983 and I was on a family trip to British Columbia. I guess I must have been given the novel to read by my dad, who was (and still is) in the habit of always reading the book before he sees the movie, even when that book is a shoddy novelization of the source material!
I remember sitting in the back seat of the car, an insatiable Star Wars fan, drinking in every sentence. And a few days later, I’m guessing in Victoria, we went to the theatre to see the film. Of course I loved it, but now I distinctly remember feeling slightly cheated because there was a scene missing from the movie in which Han Solo gives a drippy speech to the Ewoks about the importance of family or friendship or overthrowing evil empires. Or some such shit.

The point is, if you know me, I’m neurotic about watching things in order and avoiding spoilers, and this memory points out a fundamental difference between my current self and my younger self. I bet I wasn’t even all that bothered about sitting in the theatre and knowing how the story was going to end!

I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m going to need some time with this.