The Heirs Of Babylon

The Heirs of Babylon by Glen Cook. Originally published by Signet Science Fiction, 1972. Approx. 183 pages.

Last year, for my birthday, I decided to get myself a little treat, and so I tracked down The Heirs of Babylon, Glen Cook's first published full-length book (he already had his porn novel, The Swap Academy, released under the pen name Greg Stevens, and some short stories and Clarion contributions published by the time). Of course, with the TBR pile as high as it was, I haven't really had a chance to read it. Actually, no...that's not 100% true. Like many other books by Cook, I tried a few times to read it, getting a few pages in, before I could actually sit through it. It's a strange thing; I'd put him as my favorite author; and yet, it's like the stars need a certain alignment for me to be able to commit to the long haul of finishing one of his books.

Well, I decided I would get it done by this birthday. 100%. And, of course, that passed over two weeks ago... But hey, this is as close to being on schedule as I can get these days, so I'll take it.

The Heirs of Babylon is an interesting little novel. It is set in a post-apocalyptic world, two hundred years after nuclear and chemical warfare has annihilated almost the entirety of the global population. And yet, for some reason, maybe the inherent madness of man, the war continues. Every few years, there is a Gathering; where the remaining territories must cobble together a Tribute: man and naval power, and trudge off the the "Meeting", and do battle with the phantom enemy. Few, if any, ever return.

Our protagonist, Kurt Ranke, is a young man that lives in the Littoral, the ragged remnants of Germany. Impulsive action and obstinate pride have committed him to participation in what High Command (the ruling force for the West) has deemed the "Final Meeting". We meet him as he is bidding farewell to Karen, his new wife. Before leaving, she hits him with two curveballs; one, that she is possibly pregnant, and two, she is contemplating absconding to Telemark, Norway, to join a pacifist faction up there. She begs him to join, but he commits to duty. And so, he boards his ship, the Jager, and sets off on his appointment with destiny.

For the most part, the book details life aboard the ragtag destroyer. This is what Cook has always excelled at; taking something seemingly normal, and adding fantastic elements to it. Due to the loss of the technology of two centuries past, those attending the Gathering can still put mighty ships in the water, but they are often patchwork craft, often running on steam power.

This part of the story works because of the authenticity of the naval portrayal. As Cook even mentioned recently in an interview, a lot of what was written here was drawn upon from his Naval service a few years prior. So, if the day to day actions of a Quartermaster don't appeal to you, a good chunk of this novel won't work.

Now, as these things are wont to happen in a militaristic system of government, High Command has a sort of "propaganda police bureau" known as the Political Office, to make sure that everyone keeps marching in step. These feared agents are clad in black, and inspire fear and command respect wherever they go. Think SS officers or Warhammer 40K Commissars.

In such a totalitarian society, it comes as no surprise that the undercurrents of dissent are evident on a broader spectrum than those fleeing to Telemark. On the Jager, and, we find later, most other ships participating in the Gathering, there is an underground movement. The seeds of mutiny that they sow create an intense amount of tension on the ship.

Our protagonist, Kurt Ranke, finds himself smack dab in the middle of this ideological maelstrom. Cook has, in Kurt, presented us with a very real, human lead. He is a young man who is not non-violent, but simply not violent. He is not anti-war; he just cannot quantify hating an "enemy" that he has never seen. He is not pro-High Command, but he understands that life is much easier when one follows a set path (even though in the back of his mind he realizes that this path is probably a one-way trip). He also recognizes the goals of the resistance; he even finds excitement in them, and a desire to help bring about change. Of course, he ends up committing again to the path laid out for him, and hating himself for his laziness. Kurt is very much like us in this way; we can rage over political and social issues in the news and on social media, then finish our coffee and head off to our work pods.

Even though Babylon borrows from other anti-war and anti-totalitarian works, it is not a propaganda piece. It is, like so many of Cook's other works, a story seen from the everyday soldier's point of view.

Towards the middle, Cook borrows a page from 1984 and has Kurt visit a small shop, where upon him is bestowed a book which illuminates some of the mechanics of the current societal structure. He picks up some rudimentary English skills, and sets about translating the tome.

As the rickety armada trudges off to its final rendezvous, the clamps from High Command are tightened, and the seeds of mutiny truly begin to blossom. At this point, it all becomes a matter of time....

There's really two main ways to look at a book like The Heirs of Babylon. If you are reading it today, it's most likely because you are a Glen Cook fan, and perhaps a completist of sorts, and are interested in seeing what his earliest works were like. Perhaps you want to see if you can see parallels between older and contemporary books by him, and see if you can chart the evolution of his writing prowess.

Or, you can look at it as a standalone. Imagine you plucked this off the spinner rack at a bygone drugstore, or found it in a used-books box at a flea market. In that case, you can appraise it on its own merits as a standalone book.

On its own, The Heirs of Babylon is an enjoyable enough book. It is post-apocalyptic, but not in an insane, "Mad Max" manner. Given this, it might come off as a tad boring for some. In fact, this may be the first instance of Cook "self-critiquing" himself in-book (remember when Croaker savaged Murgen for how he recorded his Annals?). As Kurt is translating the forbidden book, he notes how it is much more boring than he expected, and after a certain point he was just continuing to turn pages in the hope that something exciting would happen. Babylon isn't boring, but it isn't chock full of explosions either. The action scenes, when they come, are fast, furious, and intentionally confusing. Terrifying, too. You know, just how they'd be in real life.

I'm not going to give away too much in regards to the climax. Suffice to say, Cook surprises us by not giving us what we expect, and yet delivering something entirely believable. If you are hoping for either a lofty, heroic ending; or an overly dramatic, sad one, you will be disappointed. Cook knows that in the end, soldiers do what they need to do to survive (remember, soldiers live and wonder why). Ergo, this story ends the moment that the war ends for Kurt. This yields a finale which is both immensely frustrating and completely satisfying at the same time.

In the end, I'll just say that The Heirs of Babylon was much better than I expected. Cook exhibited smooth polish even as a young writer, although I wonder if he would've written from the first-person perspective if he had written it later in his career. If you are a fan, and have $5-10 kicking around, it's totally worth hunting down a copy.

Final Score:

8/10

Cover Score:

Not bad at all. The ships are beyond basic, and the faces in the mushroom cloud remind me of the onionheads in the original Don't Be Afraid of the Dark movie, but it's still fairly evocative.

Cover Final Score:

6.5/10

The Last Wall

The Last Wall by David Annandale. Book Four in The Black Library's "The Beast Arises" series, originally published March 2016. Approx. 157 pages.

Here we are at Book Four in the The Beast Arises series. The Last Wall marks the first entry by David Annandale; who will be the most prolific author in the series with three books contributed. This will also be the first full-length book by him that I've read; having mostly dealt with his short stories. Those have been a little hit or miss for me; a bit of cause for concern, seeing as though if you really don't like his writing then this may not be the series for you. Let's see how it worked out...

Another mention; at this point, I'm assuming that those reading this have read the previous installments. So, as much as I try to avoid spoilers, a lot of these stories pick up from pretty significant cliffhangers, and they will be mentioned.

At the end of The Emperor Expects, Lansung, Lord High Admiral of the Imperial Navy, was returning to Terra to much celebration and fanfare after destroying an ork attack moon off of Port Sanctus. And then, to the surprise and horror of all, another ork attack moon simply materialized....right over Terra.

Over a Terra that, post-Heresy, post-annihilation of the Imperial Fists, and without a Navy that is still returning from Sanctus, finds itself virtually undefended. Truly the worst case scenario.

A lot of the action which transpires in The Last Wall occurs on and around Terra, and Annandale wisely opts to kick off the proceedings with a snapshot of the utter panic that unfurls directly following the moon's arrival. Here we meet Galatea Haas; a dedicated and dutiful officer in the Adeptus Arbites, who is also one of our primary protagonists. This scene gives the reader and excellent bird's eye view of the sheer magnitude of this event on the common Terran, and it is masterful. So, so far, so good.

Even though all of the introduced story arcs get advanced a little for continuity's sake, the centerpiece of this book is the Proletarian Crusade. This little slice of military genius was concocted by Juskina Tull, Speaker for the Chartist Captains, and one of the High Lords of Terra. As part of the perpetual jockeying for ascendancy among that group, her plan is to unite all of the merchant ships under her purview, and have them carry millions of members of the Imperial Guard (to be cobbled together by volunteers from the general public), and take the fight to the ork moon itself (which, to this point, has been laying completely stationary in low orbit). With the Navy still absent, this would essentially be an orbital Normandy landing, without any fire cover, to initiate a ground assault on a moon which, as far as I understood, no one even checked to see whether or not had any breathable atmosphere on it.

It is a concept of unparalleled idiocy and lunacy. And yet, coming from the mouth of such an emotive orator, it resonates with hope and heroism. The fact that this ludicrous reality of the human mindset is so believable, and conveyed in such an authentic manner, was my crash course in realizing how good an author Annandale is. When it comes to writing about the core levels of belief inside all of us, he does so with a frightening mastery. Whether he is illustrating it by showing us how easily even rational people get caught up in a jingoistic call to arms, no matter how ill-conceived, or showing us the fierce, yet futile raging of an sole, insignificant person against a force that stands ready to crush it in a heartbeat, he does it with utter realism. This is a trait that I saw a glimpse of in his kaiju short story The Conversion, and now I can see that it was no fluke.

With that all being said, let's see how the other elements here were represented.

Characters:
The new characters introduced here, most notable Haas and Leander Narkissos (a Chartist Captain), are all well done and well-rounded. One of the nicest surprises here is that we also get an appearance by the Iron Warriors as they do battle with the ork menace. I really enjoyed the character of warsmith Kalkator. I really did not want the Iron Warrior chapters to end (although I stopped thinking of them when the focus on the Crusade started heating up).

Annandale's treatment of the established characters is excellent as well. Although I still prefer Sanders' Vangorich a smidge more, we get a return to some of that character's snark; though; thankfully not in the amount that Abnett saturated him in. His handling of the Space Marine confluence of Koorland, Bohemond, Quesadra, Issachar and Thane is superb as well. At least here they sound like the leaders they are. They exhibit the right balance of concern and reserve.

The only real storyline that did not do much for me, yet again, was Wienand's. I don't even attribute this to authorial error; nobody has really been able to make this character compelling. The ante of the Inquisitorial squabbling has been upped, with Veritus stepping in to take Wienand's place. His philosophy leans more towards the fanatical; with the Ruinous Powers being his primary concern, even with an ork moon in plain view.

Bad Guys:
I love these orks. We all know by now that these specimens are smarter than the average greenskin. However, Annandale seems to take pure joy in concocting wonderfully complex tactics and traps that the minions of the Beast use to trip up the hapless 'humies at every turn. Terrifying in the flesh, and terribly fun to read about.

Action:
The action scenes are good, and are nicely conceived and choreographed. I would say that they don't 'pop' or that they aren't as visceral as the scenes in other books, but that's not the point. I enjoyed this more because my concern for the characters was the paramount concern. If you can be emotionally invested, everything else is good. And, again, the scenes we get are done very well.

Now, one exception is this: tank battles. We get tank action in the scenes that deal with the Iron Warriors, and with those that deal with the Imperial Guard. And these are amazing. Bonecrushing, devastating, beautiful.

Pacing:
The Last Wall moves along at a nice clip. As mentioned, there were certain scenes that I never wanted to end. Other ones, I don't know if it was Annandale or myself that weren't into them, just kept moving. Cases in point: the Wienand scenes (although the early on assassination attempt is nicely done), and the chapter focusing on what the AdMech is up to on the sly. We close once again with a huge cliffhanger. The last few pages, I'm not going to say they feel rushed, but there was something about what was going on that I felt was a bit.....I don't know, silly? Even by the standards of what the 40K universe has to offer. Maybe it all just seemed a bit flippant after the emotional draining that occurred with the conclusion of the Proletarian Crusade.

Writing Style:
I'm pretty sure I've covered how much I was impressed by Annandale's writing in The Last Wall. He has a strong grasp on highly descriptive, figurative language. He displays this by using short, power-packed statements, like:

"It was stone and iron come together as if brute force had a geology."

See, with succinct, clever lines like this, there is no need for pages upon pages of flowery prose. And, writing like this, it becomes possible to pack a full story into a lean volume. Another trick he employs which I laud him for is the running "Last Wall" motif. Permeating each aspect of the narrative is a wall of sorts; be it human or inorganic. We see this from the opening pages, as Terra goes mad with the ork moon looming above; we see the greatest example in the wall that heralds the end of the Proletarian Crusade. Great stuff.

In the end, boasting a great story line, nice action, and some frighteningly powerfully emotional scenes, I'd list The Last Wall as my current favorite entry in the series.

Final Score:

9/10

Cover Score:

Again, I can't stress how much I love these Beast Arises covers that feature the orks. And this one has a squig to boot!

Cover Final Score:

9.5/10

Sword Art Online 1: Aincrad

Sword Art Online 1:Aincrad by Reki Kawahara. Originally published by Yen Press/Hachette Book Group, 2014. Approx. 245 pages (some color and B&W illustrations as well).

This might be a pretty short review. I am assuming that if you are reading this, you are already somewhat familiar with the premise of Sword Art Online, a recent phenom with tendrils reaching into the realms of anime, manga, video games, and light novels. In short, it focuses on gamers participating in a fantasy-based VRMMORPG (Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game). The thing is; the developer of the game programmed the unique headset required for playing it quite a bit - to the point where the immersion is real. So, although the players' bodies are being sustained in specialized medical facilities, an in-game death will translate to a real world one as well.

Well, here's the blurb, which explains all that, just better:

In the year 2022, gamers rejoice as Sword Art Online - a VRMMORPG (Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game) like no other - debuts, allowing players to take full advantage of the ultimate in gaming technology: NerveGear, a system that allows users to completely immerse themselves in a wholly realistic gaming experience. But when the game goes live, the elation of the players quickly turns to horror as they discover that, for all its amazing features, SAO is missing one of the most basic functions of any MMORPG - a log-out button. Now trapped in the virtual world of Aincrad, their bodies held captive by NerveGear in the real world, users are issued a chilling ultimatum: conquer all one hundred floors of Aincrad to regain your freedom. But in the warped world of SAO, "game over" means certain death - both virtual and real...

The book focuses for the most part on Kirito, a teenager in Japan who is a lifelong gamer, and had been chosen as one of the beta testers for the initial SAO rollout (the game itself was limited to 10,000 participants). Kirito is, of course, a natural in his new environment due to his gaming pedigree. He is also somewhat of a loner, although he does coordinate attacks on end-of-level boss monsters with some of the guilds that evolve in this new society. Over the course of these ventures he strikes up a friendship with the beautiful, chestnut-haired Asuna; a high-ranking warrior in the KoB (Knights of Blood), who is considered another of the top gamers.

The novel spends more time detailing their developing relationship/romance than it does the advance through the game. All of the expected anime tropes are here: overly dramatic moments of sacrifice, melodramatic romance, all that good stuff. If you like that stuff, you'll eat it up. If you don't, it's pretty much a cringe on every page. I fall into the former category, so it was fun for me.

There are also a few nice little curve balls which I did not expect, and those made for a nice touch.

The secondary characters are interesting enough, although definitely cast from familiar templates. The world of Aincrad itself is painted quite nicely for the reader as well; with most floors following some consistent decorative theme.

Now, depending on how you look at them, anime light novels can be seen as either an oddity or a novelty. And, of course, a lot of their ultimate success or failure hinges on the English translation. The translation here, done by Stephen Paul, makes for an easy, seamless, brisk read. I don't have a Japanese original to match it against, and I haven't read any of the fan translations circulating the web either. My only complaint with the writing itself needs to be lodged against the writer, not the translator. Certain actions and reactions common in the visual mediums of anime and mange simply do not translate well to the written word: case in point, the facial overreactions which are so common in those mediums (i.e. - exaggerated puffed cheeks, bulging veins, clouds of exhalation after a satisfying meal, etc.). The book attempts to describe those actions quite literally; where deft metaphor would probably convey the message quite better. That's the thing, though. There are plenty of lofty modifiers throughout the book (a direct translation or Paul's word choice?), but there is little in the manner of figurative language. Maybe it wasn't there to begin with, or maybe it didn't get translated well.

My only other complaint is that for such a vast RPG world, there are very few instances of interaction with the monsters. We get some, and there is thankfully some attention paid to the side skills that SAO players can develop, but it would've been a great benefit to the overall experience to see some more of the monsters that would've made a game like that so attractive to the players in the first place.

And yet, even with some slight drawbacks, I enjoyed this book a lot. It is no literary masterpiece, by any means, but it definitely taps into a vein. When I was younger, I was (I'm sure) the only kid in our D&D circle that actually played the game by imaging I was in the world. It wasn't just about making my character "super-strong". I always wanted to escape into that fantasy world. The same continued with shows I loved, like Voltron and Robotech. When I got into my 20's, I still felt those same longings, wishing I could escape into worlds like those in Chrono Trigger. Back them, voicing those wishes came with serious social repercussions. Luckily, they are more acceptable now. And that's the kind of pure escapism that SAO offers. I'm sure if I was younger, I'd be grabbing these books off the shelves at the bookstores and hunting down the newest fan translations.

So, even though it feels a bit silly to be reading these books in my 40's, I'll probably grab the subsequent volumes from my local library. Or maybe I'll buy them so my kids can read them too in the near future. I'm not sure if I am going to sit through the anime yet. My anime obsession started its decline close to 15 years ago, and the newer stuff is kind of hard to get into when you've been weaned on the classics of the 70's and 80's.

Give SAO a whirl. And kudos to Yen Press and the other publishers for putting these books out there.

Final Score:

8/10

Cover Score:

Nice pic of Kirito and Asuna. The character design is fairly typical, but visually attractive. I like the lettering. the inner illustrations are a win as well. My only issue is that at a cursory viewing, it might be tough for the new reader to differentiate whether this is a light novel or a manga.

Cover Final Score:

7/10

Almuric

Almuric by Robert E. Howard. Originally published in Weird Tales, beginning in 1939. This edition published by Planet Stories, 2008. Approx. 148 pages.

When one looks at all that Robert E. Howard accomplished in his 30 years, it is astounding to see how many original characters he created, and we marvel at his voluminous bibliography of short stories. One thing also stands out though; for all his hundreds of short stories, there are so few works by him of novella or novel length. Of course, this is a reflection of the market at the time as well.

Of Howard's longer length works, Almuric is one of the most famous (technically a novel, it was originally published in three parts in Weird Tales). It can best be described as a take on Burrough's John Carter of Mars (Barsoom) series, but with Howard's indelible fingerprints all over it. Almuric is the very pinnacle of the kind escapist fantasy and wish-fulfillment that so defined his body of work.

Our hero in Almuric is Esau Cairn, who of course is the man's man of men's men. He espouses every virtue which Howard embraced; he speaks in declarative soundbites of salt of the earth nobility, he is in prime physical form, and of course, the great equalizer in his repertoire are his superb boxing skills. As you may have guessed, there is no known match for these twin dealers of justice. One night, an altercation with a corrupt politician prompts Cairn to finally unleash the full power of one of his fists - which immediately kills the man. Now a man on the run, Cairn beats a hasty egress.

He runs to the sanctuary of a scientist friend - who is narrating the prologue and gives us what amounts to Cairn's chronicle on Almuric - who just so happens to have perfected a method of interplanetary transportation. This scientist uses this amazing technology - which he outright refuses to explain to the reading audience the details of - to send our noble pugilistic protagonist to the far off world of Almuric.

These things working out the way they do, Almuric is a planet with an atmosphere strikingly similar to, you guessed it, Earth. Their is safe water for drinking, and sustaining food to be found. The wildlife is similar too; if not a bit bigger and scarier.

Then there are the Gura. The Gura are the human equivalent on Almuric. They are a warrior race; the males are large, hairy, belligerent, yet honorable (for the most part) types. They have a simple form of civilization. They know enough about building to erect sturdy fortifications, and can fashion fine blades and serviceable carbines. However, they live a very in-the-moment, hunter/gatherer type lifestyle. They have no need for the recorded work, or displays of artwork.

The women of the Gura race, however, are hairless and demure. This is due to the fact that the men do all the physical labor and fighting, and the women stay home and do....women's stuff, I guess.

 In accordance with "how these things work", Cairn finds that he can communicate with the Gura; at first he attributes this to them also speaking English, then he realizes it is due to some phenomenon which never gets explained.

And so, rickety foundation of logic in place, we move onto the story. Basically, the book follows Cairn as he hardens his body in the wilderness of Almuric, then, as he assimilates into Gura society, where he always surpasses the natives through sheer grit, tenacity, or inherent greatness, earning himself the moniker of "Ironhand". Later, we have some adventures as he falls prisoner to some rival Guras, and, finally, we get to a climax in which he must face off against the dreaded Yagas. The Yagas are cool in that they are basically those old DFC black gargoyle figures come to life.

And there you go. There are no surprises at all in how the narrative unfolds; you can guess right off the bat how any given scenario will unfold. That's just the thing, though. This was the age of pure fantasy, and the heroes we wanted to be, saving the damsel we wished we could save. Call it dated, misogynistic, marginalizing, or whatever nomenclature assigned to these concepts by the Mom's-basement-dwelling ranks of the Perennially Offended.

While I can poke fun at the absolutely ridiculous (lack of any coherent) logic that binds this story together, it really doesn't matter. What it comes down to is how it is written. Almuric is not Howard at his finest, but it is Howard at his best. True, many scenarios are resolved by the appearance of events of convenience that go beyond the pale. It's a given that any sentence that ends with an exclamation point is going to be a bad one. Also, the prose is more purple than Grimace's autopsy (and now I hate myself for Googling to see if there was already a corresponding image for that term. Because there absolutely was one). But, the earnestness with which Howard has fleshed out this world is near palpable. The finished product has a taste of sci-fi with a huge flavor of prehistoric times, with Cairn being a heroic fantasy barbarian type on par with Conan and Kull. The world isn't only populated with souped-up versions of Earthly creatures, either. There are mythical beasts, and hints at monstrous, near-spectral creatures. The end result leaves the audience wishing that either more Almuric stories had been penned, or that options for a shared universe would have been explored.

It is so plain to see the Howard put not only his whole heart into this story, but also his entire imagination. Another thing I want to mention - so often when people introduce a story from around this time, they feel the compulsion to apologize for some of the beliefs and values of the people at the time. I don't really go in for that. Especially when you realize, as silly as some of the concepts here are, Howard was such a fiercely intelligent and well-read young man. These pulp stories come alive with a quality of language that brings into stark focus how far the English language has deteriorated in the last few decades. Perhaps, instead of demanding that dead men apologize for what they believed, we should apologize for how much the spoken word has suffered under our poor stewardship.

But that's just my opinion. Check out Almuric; it's a lot of fun. You can read it on Australian Gutenberg here.

Cover Score:

I love this cover by Andrew Hou. It really captures the mood and tone. Cairn is not made into an overly-muscled creature, and Altha is rendered beautifully. 80's style fantasy cover work at its finest.

Cover Final Score:

9/10

The Emperor Expects

The Emperor Expects by Gav Thorpe. Book Three in The Black Library's "The Beast Arises" series, originally published Febraury 2016. Approx. 215 pages.

After two very solid installments to kick off their Beast Arises series, we come to the third volume, The Emperor Expects, by Gav Thorpe. Would Mr. Thorpe continue the high level of quality laid down by Abnett and Sanders, or would we start to see some of the chinks in the ceramite of the power armor?

Maybe we should start with a bit of a preamble regarding Mr. Thorpe. Gav has always been sort of an enigma to me as a writer. I see a lot of vitriol pointed at a lot of his works, but I've never considered him a bad writer (there are only two writers I've sampled from The Black Library who I'd say were "bad writers". I won't mention any names, but I'll just say that one of their last names rhymes with "rhyme"). Thorpe actually strings together coherent sentences in a meaningful manner. And yet, for some reason, his stories almost always fail to engage me in any way whatsoever. Due to this, I have a fairly large collection of unfinished works by him, compared to only one finished book (Grudgebearer, which was enjoyable and yet fairly unmemorable). But, I see a lot of anger directed towards him and his body of work on the interwebs, which I don't get.

Well, we'd see with this one. I am committed to finish this series, so The Emperor Expects would be the Gav Thorpe acid test.

What was the result? Well, it's a decent book; good in some ways, and pretty bad in others. What went wrong, and what was still right?

With the groundwork and preliminary framework already laid down, The Emperor Expects focuses primarily on two story arcs; in one, High Admiral Lansung and a large contingent of the Imperial Navy take the fight to the orks. In the other, a power struggle has erupted within the ranks of the Inquisition on Terra, with Inquisitor Weinand caught squarely in the middle.

There is also a small section dedicated to Captain Koorland, aka Slaughter, the Last Imperial Fist, just for a sake of keeping a low flame under that story until the next installment (we get a hint at something known as "The Last Wall" protocol, which also happens to be the name of the next book).

What this all means is that The Emperor Expects is first and foremost an Imperial Navy book (which I personally love, although individual tastes may vary). Thorpe makes the right decision in approaching this as "naval battles, just in space", yielding some fairly spectacular ship on ship combat. Or should I say ships on ships? There are a lot of ships involved.

Those are the best scenes in the book. It should also be noted that apart from one scene (in my opinion, the best action sequence in this volume), there are no appearances by the orks themselves in the flesh. Don't know if that will be a deterrent to any potential readers.

Now that we've mentioned the things that work, it's time to get around to the elements that didn't. WARNING: SOME SPOILERS LURK AHEAD.

First and foremost, the characters. Strong characters will lift the flimsiest of material, across any genre. Poor characters will sink any work, no matter how lofty the aesthetics. Such is the case here. The characters are flimsy at best, out and out bad at worst.

Let's start with Vangorich. I personally couldn't stand the snarky omniscience which Abnett utilized to realize him. Sanders did a much better job; making him what he should be: the smartest man in the room at all times. Sanders' Vangorich is investigating multiple issues simultaneously, and constantly running simulations to determine the best possible assassination options for high-value targets.

Now let's look at Thorpe's Vangorich: he gets verbally manhandled by Lansung not once, but twice in the same debate. Why? His best argument, when seeing that Lansung was gaining too much influence, was to challenge him with something along the lines of "Oh yeah, if this big battle is so important, why don't you just lead the fleet yourself then? Hunh?" Seriously.

Later on, someone is also able to actually sneak up on him. Again, seriously.

I'm not saying this because I have any emotional investment in preserving the integrity of Vangorich's reputation. It's just that if I am to believe that he is capable of doing what the Lexicanum says he is capable of doing, then showing him committing a series of bush-league mistakes isn't the way to do it.

There are some things that didn't sit well with me regarding Esad Wire, aka "Beast Krule", Vangorich's top assassin. Keep in mind that this man is not only a top assassin, but also worked for years with the Adeptus Arbites in some pretty seedy areas. And yet, during a briefing with his boss, he seems surprised that he should keep tabs on an Inquisitor, because, "she's on our side, right?"

No. You assume that no one is on your side. I know that and I'm not even an assassin.

Later, he draws a blank at a name which turns out to be Wienand's body double. Don't ask me to believe that the fact that there are body doubles in play wasn't part of the Officio Assassinorum's intel packets. If the Assassins are using intricate camouflage, body doubles, and Mission Impossible-style face masks, you have to assume that the other guys are too.

Again....

Rule 1: Trust no one.
Rule 2: Assume that the enemy has the same (if not better) resources at their disposal that you do, and approach them as necessary.

As far as the Navy storyline is concerned, the characters were enjoyable. A lot of the focus is on a Captain named Kulik, and his First Lieutenant, Shaffenbeck.

My issue with these characters is that they feel somewhat manufactured. They are cobbled together with all the qualities that the author assumes makes them likable; the are always capable, tough when they need to be, caring without being soft, able to hold their own in a fight, and they always have a cutesy remark to make at just the right time to break the strict pressure of command. Don't get me wrong; it's entertaining. It makes their scenes very readable. But they never feel like "real" people.

While I'm talking about them, it reminds me of another issue I have with the book....the tone.

Often, during the Navy scenes, even though what I am reading can be called good ship warfare, and even good sci-fi, it doesn't feel like Warhammer 40K. I get it that Thorpe wants us to see Kulik as a noble man in the midst of a vainglorious Navy, but his concern for his men goes beyond a believable norm. The fact that he outright balks at the thought of an Admiral friend being comfortable with maneuvers that would cost lives is pretty funny. Noble commander or not; there is a basic tenet in all military service that your troops are disposable resources. You know that your moves will put a set number of them at risk; your charge is to minimize that loss.

That's pretty much it with my assessment of the characters. I should mention that some of Koorland's dialogue is fairly treacly as well.

I can see now how some might have a problem with Thorpe's writing style. He does indulge quite a bit in the wordy descriptions of backgrounds, clothing, etc. This doesn't bother me per se, but it becomes an issue when there are situations where more detail would've been greatly welcomed. For example, when armsmen on the ship are heading off to repel boarders, we get a full paragraph describing their uniforms; from the stripes on the pants to the piping on their jackets. Great! I love detail like that. On the other hand, a lot of the description of the ships is simply boiled down to what class they are. Think of some of the amazing design work on Imperial Navy ships; why not spend a few paragraphs on contours and crenellations and whatnot. Also, even though Thorpe describes some of the orky ships (and the attack moon) quite well, why not some more details of their pugnacious, haphazardly jerry-rigged monstrosities? I mean, the orks do these things to such great excess that an author should be like a kid in a playground when tasked with describing them all.

One issue I did have with the writing here: exposition. When Thorpe wants to convey an idea, he does not demonstrate it, he does not imply it, he outright explains it. In excrutiating detail. For example, when describing how the Senatorum is supposed to work, he mentions that the end result is something ideally similar to a system of checks and balances. He then explains, in full detail, what a system of checks and balances is. This is done often through the book.

I don't want to complain about that too much. I think to myself; if I got this book when I was, say, 10 or 12, like many are when they get into 40K, I'd probably find it all pretty informative and feel a bit smarter after reading it. So, I understand that there is a sizable swathe of the potential reading audience that this style might resonate with. If you aren't in that slice of the pie chart, consider yourself warned.

I know, there's a lot of nit-picking here; but for the most part, I enjoyed the read. The only section which I'll say I really didn't care for was the "Wienand Chase Sequence".

But, other than that, The Emperor Expects has a lot going for it. There is great pacing; with a nicely balanced ratio of action to story advancement. Thorpe paints backgrounds and realizes people and places with aplomb; he has been an influential force in crafting this universe for many years. This is where all of that detail has a definable, enjoyable yield.

And, it all ends with a nifty cliffhanger.

Looking forward to The Last Wall.

Final Score:

6/10

Cover Score:

I like these covers, but I'm not sure who this is supposed to be. Is it Admiral Lansung (too skinny)? Is it Beast Krule (why the uniform)? Is it Admiral Acharya (but he's only a minor character)?

Cover Final Score:

8/10

The Way Knight

The Way Knight by Alexander Wallis. Originally published by Chichester Publishing, October 2015. Approx. 150 pages.

Last month I posted my observations and opinions on The Sea Between the Stars, the award-winning two-page backstory companion to Alex Wallis' debut novel, The Way Knight.

I was not prepared for how gripping, powerful, and evocative it was. Wallis, who does extensive work with troubled youths, created such an authentic character in Daimonia, a tragic young women emotionally scarred by an absent mother who withheld love and emotion.

It was superb, to say the least. I could hardly wait to tear into The Way Knight itself.

Now, I will say this. The brevity of The Sea Between the Stars added to the overall impact of the narrative. It is an excellent little piece of gothic literature, but it doubles as a real emotional punch to the gut. The Way Knight offers a distinctly different format; yet with the same level of authorial excellence. In short; while The Sea Between the Stars functioned as an extremely effective "living ghost story", The Way Knight is more in line with a dark, gritty fantasy tale elevated by the intimate exploration of the deeply troubled protagonist's personality.

Before we get into the actual review, here is the blurb again:

"THE WAY KNIGHT is the terrifying tale of a girl’s journey from child, to woman, to goddess. It is a provocative story that will challenge everything you believe.

Daimonia is a wild and impulsive girl, who fears she is unlovable. When corrupt politicians execute her brother, she travels to find her mother — the famous hero who abandoned her years before.

To survive the treacherous journey, she hires the Way Knight — a travelling warrior sworn to protect anyone who pays his fee, no matter how dangerous the journey, or hopeless their cause.

Together they will chance the battle-torn coast, pursued by the champion of the Secret God."

Daimonia lives in the land of Jaromir with her grandfather, Jhonan. Jhonan is a most formidable former Knight of the Accord (the prevailing code of conduct/chivalry), who tried his best, ill-suited as he was for the task, to raise Daimonia and her brother Niklos after their mother left them to pursue her own interests.

As deep as the emotional scars carved into her psyche by her mother run, there are still things that bring some joy to Daimonia; one is the inspiration she receives from the performances of epic plays by traveling actors, and another is visits from her idealistic brother Niklos, now a fully-fledged Knight of the Accord.

However, as these things often happen, under the noble veneer of concepts such as the Accord are the underpinnings of absolute power corrupting absolutely. Springing from these roots are considerable acts of decadence and depravity by the powers that be, put into action by those who wield the military might of the law; namely the Knights. This "getting along by going along" mantra does not sit well with Niklos, and it leads to his death.

Devastated by the loss of her brother, and enraged by the revealed corruption permeating throughout the ruling class, Daimonia sets off to find her mother, who is castellan of a far off stronghold. By joining with her mother she hopes to...what? Crusade for justice? Or perhaps just be reunited with the cold, distant figure. Or, maybe, hope that personally delivering the news of Niklos' death will reveal some hurt, and therefore some emotion, on the face of her callous, phantom mother.

To aide her in her journey, Daimonia enlists the help of the titular Way Knight, Goodkin. Way Knights are hired fighters, not exactly standard sellswords, but more like transportation bodyguards or caravan guards. Goodkin is taciturn, formidable, and has a face which is a horrific latticework of earned battle scars.

And so the group (which also includes a traveling merchant, his son, and a refugee family), heads off on their journey. Along the way they'll meet many adversaries and challenges, including more devious militant types, brigands, coastal raiders, and, worst of all, the dedicated attention of a young psychotic named Sir Conrad the Geld Knight (a Geld Knight being a type of militant levy collector).

All of this backdrop is realized well by Wallis. He has fully conceptualized and delivered his imaginary land. He institutes a governmental system, and a religious system. There is an immersive feel when the narrative enters the cities; and they are seedy, rank environments.

The fight scenes, of which there are many, are another high point. Wallis pulls no punches with showing some of the dirtier styles of fighting; situations where desperation drives the sword thrusts. He does not show brutal acts of violence simply for shock value. That would cheapen the inclusion of them. Brutal acts are done by brutal men and women as the situation calls for.

While the story has solid fundamentals, it distinguishes itself with the sheer strength of its characters. Daimonia makes for a stunningly well-rounded, genuine protagonist. As mentioned in the review for The Sea Between the Stars, Wallis taps into his own personal experience working with troubled youths to compile this remarkable young woman. Many authors make the mistake of projecting the morals and values that they find noble or positive onto a "young hero" template, trying to construct a heroic figure. Not so with Wallis and Daimonia. She is heroic for what she has survived; abandonment by her callous, narcissistic mother, the murder of her brother, etc. For all her strengths, she has her shortcomings. While she is kind and thoughtful in many ways, there is a tightly coiled anger under all of it. She makes noble gestures, but she is also prone to violent outbursts. She is also terribly impulsive; and these gestures often put her life and the lives of others at risk. And yet, you know that so much of this is the result of her being a product of her inputs. She has likable traits, but in many ways, she is also very unlikable. Like most teenagers. That's why it is historically so difficult for adults to find common ground with adolescents.

The secondary characters are all thoughtfully fleshed out as well. The maniacal Sir Conrad, for example, is not just made of psychopathic tendencies cobbled together. We learn how he was used, and learned to use, how he was manipulated, and in turn, taught how to manipulate.

Wallis cleverly keeps his titular character a rather reticent figure, challenging the reader to interpret his motives. Is it pride, concern, or simply duty that compels him? Or a certain mixture of the three? All I can say is that Goodkin steals every scene he is in, without ever saying much.

I do want to mention one thing regarding the ending sequence, and I will keep it as spoiler-free as possible, but still, consider this a very SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING....

In the final few pages of the book, Wallis really ups the pace, going from 0 to 100 in a few pages as he resolves the narrative. I'll just refer to this part of the story as "Daimonia's Ascension". This part really stuck with me, and the pacing made it seem incongruous to a degree with the rest of the story. The more I thought about it, I wonder if that whole sequence is no more than "wish fulfillment" on Daimonia's part, and isn't to be taken literally. It's fairly conceivable, since Daimonia is somewhat of an unreliable protagonist (is that even a real term?). Either way, it's best for the reader to decide when they get there.

And there you have it. The Way Knight is a thought-provoking, emotionally engaging (and devastating), action-packed dark fantasy tour de force. It comes in at a trim 150 pages, with no words wasted, or lacking. Check it out today, available at Amazon.

Final Score:

9.5/10

Cover Score and Illustrations:

I personally love a few complimentary illustrations in my fantasy books. The Way Knight has a solid cover by Phil Ives (love the somber tone and color contrast. The only thing that throws me is that Daimonia's upper arm looks a bit overly long).

You also get some nice interior illustrations by Anastasia Ilicheva. These are nice additions; simple, yet evocative.

Cover/Illustrations Final Score:

8/10

Bad Blood (Deathwatch 2)

Bad Blood (Deathwatch 2) by Steve Lyons. A Warhammer 40K short story, originally published by The Black Library, August 2015. Approx. 24 pages.

It has taken me quite a while to get around to reading this, the second installment in The Black Library's Deathwatch series. First of all, my experiences with Lyons' works have been squarely in the "middle of the road" mold. He has certain good ideas, and some good action setpieces, but his stories end up getting hamstrung by poor dialogue and less than engaging writing. It's never bad; it just never really justifies its existence. You walk away saying, "Ok, that wasn't so bad. But what was the point?" Or, to paraphrase an old review I read somewhere a long time ago regarding Ice Guard, his writing amounts to "a smattering a words across a range of pages".

Bad Blood is a step above that norm. Not a huge step, but a step.

Brother Antor Delassio, the Cursed Young Prince, a Blood Angel attached to the Deathwatch, sits aboard the Incontrovertible Truth, undergoing a sort of dialysis in the hopes of cleansing some of his tainted blood. As with many of the Sons of Sanguinius, he suffers from the Black Rage. And, as he sits and tries to cleanse the bitter taint from his body, he recounts the first occurrence of that berserker trait.

During his first mission with the Deathwatch, en route to Watch Fortress Erioch, the Incontrovertible Truth is attacked and boarded by an enemy perhaps more odious than the xenos they dedicate themselves to hunting: the traitorous Black Legion. Caught off guard, Antor has to rally with surviving Deathwatch Marines to turn back the traitors and save the ship.

The action scenes here are pretty good, but nothing spectacular. It is nice to see the Chapters which are name-dropped here; but they are basically reduced to their assigned tropes. Even if they weren't going to be around for a long time, they could've been fleshed out more. The dialogue is pretty poor, and the planning and problem-solving is more on par with the Scooby Doo Crew.

What does work, and very well at that, is the anticipation. You know that this is all a buildup to the release of the Rage. And when it finally does erupt, it does so to a very satisfying climax.

Unfortunately, what keeps Bad Blood stuck in the middle of the road is the missed emotional opportunities; like optimizing the wordplay parallel of the ship name to the irrefutable aspects of Antor's sanguinary lineage. There is mention, but no real delivery, of the fear of what this taint might mean for not only him, but his entire Chapter. That deep, dark secret, and how terrifyingly urgent it is that it remain so. We read it, but we don't feel it.

And that, as they say, is that. Not bad reading, but not necessary either. An extra point for the tense buildup, which was central to the storyline.

Final Score:

6/10

Cover Score:

Yes... um, well....Ah, how do I put this?

Cover Final Score:

0/10