Oh, Carrie Fisher, gone way too soon. And now your mother, Debbie Reynolds. The startling loss this week of one of Hollywood’s great mother-daughter pairs was another blow in an unnerving year. You could call it a Hollywood ending, if by that you mean one that is larger and weirder than real life, and that tugs mightily at strong emotions.

A suggestion to grieving admirers: Make time for another viewing of “Singin’ in the Rain,” made when Ms. Reynolds was 19. Watch her becoming a star, easily holding her own against two older leading men.

But even though Ms. Fisher pulled off a strikingly similar feat — making an immortal movie at 19, with two male stars — there is a better way to honor her than by revisiting “Star Wars.”

Read her books. They are works where misery and brilliance commingle with wit, the creations of an actual person who had many layers and is worth getting to know, as opposed to Princess Leia, who has none and is not.