Fair points, certainly. It just seems to me that the new films have had trouble nailing down their audience. Sure, they can have more than one, but at the same time trying to be something for everyone can get in the way being a truly great film. Like in Into Darkness, the 'homage' to the end of Wrath of Khan really took me out of the film. It was a reference too far that reminded me that I was in a theater watching a movie.
Yes, it's a delicate balance to satisfy both old and new audiences, and it's possible to get it wrong. STID certainly erred too far in the direction of pandering to the old fanbase, and I think some of the filmmakers themselves have conceded that. I personally feel that's entirely attributable to Damon Lindelof, who insisted on using Khan over Roberto Orci's objections. But most fans and critics feel that the '09 movie was much more successful than STID. Using STID to judge ST'09 is like using
The Final Frontier to judge
The Voyage Home. They aren't all the same movie.
And just because one movie didn't handle the balance well, that doesn't mean the filmmakers weren't even
trying for a balance. What I'm talking about here is their intention in including Leonard Nimoy's Spock in the '09 film. Whether an intention worked out as planned is a separate question from whether the intention existed in the first place.
Well yeah, but what I'm saying is that for those of us here on this board, independent of studios and script writers and casual audiences, the notion of a prime universe is kind of silly.
Speaking as one of those people here on the board, I request that you don't try to speak on my behalf, because I do not share that opinion at all. You're describing your own personal opinion, and that's something you're entitled to without judgment, so you don't need to hide behind the conceit that you're speaking for the entire group. It's better to stand up and take responsibility for your own personal beliefs.
There's nothing silly about wanting continuity, about wanting to identify with a single, consistent version of a fictional character and believe that their experiences matter. Again, it's not about the nitpicks of quantum theory, it's about sentiment. Fiction exists to engage our emotions and affinities. You'd be hard-pressed to find a fictional universe involving alternate timelines that doesn't focus primarily on a single core timeline, treating its characters as the "real," principal ones and their duplicates as being of subordinate importance. We assign primacy to the characters based on our familiarity with them, the same way we do with our friends.
One of the nice things about an expanded universe is that you can pick and choose if you want to, so the film writers can disregard the novels, and the novel readers can either disregard the films or come up with fun little theories to reconcile things where they contradict. Maybe that means new books are suddenly in an alternate timeline from the new films, but they aren't in an alternate timeline from everything that led up to the new films, just as the new films and the old tv shows are in alternate timelines from each other while still sharing the Star Trek: Enterprise timeline. As fans, it's a notion that we know how to handle.
But we're not talking about fans here -- we're talking about what the novels are able to do with the continuity in 2387 and beyond. Fans have the freedom to reinvent the universe however they want, but licensed tie-in creators are contractually obligated to follow the lead of the screen canon, and whatever other limitations or obligations might be part of the licensing agreement. It's just not comparable.