As the ancient sea was cruel, so too is that blacker sea, vaster by far, that fills the void between the suns like water
Fascinating premise - a dark space opera where fate throws unexpected curveballs at you over and over again. An imperial chancery determined to bring the whole universe to the heel of a clunky faith. Ever-present looming threat of the Inquisition. Grief and suffering following mankind wherever it sets foot. Hell yeah! Sign me up.
Blood is not the foundation of civilization—ours or any other’s—but it suffuses its mortar at every level, drips from its walls.
This is the story of Hadrian Marlowe, our enigmatic narrator who eventually becomes the Sun Eater - the destroyer of worlds. As would likely not come as a surprise, the trajectory of his life is mired with grief and suffering, themes very close to my heart. The author paints these themes incredibly well, sometimes with chaotic splatters of violence and torture, sometimes with fine strokes of inner conflict and contemplation, all of it delivered through some truly beautiful prose. It is not difficult to see why this series has gathered such a huge fanbase.
My memory is to the world as a drawing is to the photograph. Imperfect. More perfect. We remember what we must, what we choose to, because it is more beautiful and real than the truth
Because we hear of the events as recollections narrated by Hadrian himself, past and future get linked up in very interesting ways, with some creative ominous foreshadowing. I especially loved how the author also sporadically weaves in the roads not taken - imagined timelines emerging from differing choices.
Imitate the action of the stone. Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it if you have to with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.
The empire was a bit too Roman-esque to my liking, but as the story progresses we discover that the sprawling world-building extends far beyond it and is full of mysteries. The author combines familiar themes with a very cautious sprinkling of the arcane, esoteric, and eldritch. I had expected the book to have more action, but what I got I enjoyed. Mostly. In some cases the philosophical ponderings do stifle the momentum - but much of it was great.
Another problem with Augustine’s common-sense vision of time: it assumes a sort of causal relationship between past and present, between present and future. True, perhaps, in the physical sense, but in the narrative? No. Stories are not subject to Time
This kind of deep layering of philosophy does not usually interest me much, but in this case I enjoyed the author’s treatment - esp. when it was interwoven with Hadrian’s early life. I have seen many people complain about the pacing in online forums, so as someone who frequently drops books that feel sluggish, I had tempered my expectations when picking this up. While the concerns have some merit, I found myself hooked throughout the story, Hadrian’s depiction being the primary driver.
Are you a walking literary cliché?
Easily one of the most relatable protagonists I have encountered in fiction, Hadrian was surprisingly reminiscent of Elric of Melnibone in his abhorrence of the barbarism that surrounds him. But where Elric is sickly and ever-reliant on a concoction of drugs to keep himself alive, Hadrian is a “tank-born” offspring from a meticulously curated gene-pool that grants him numerous enabling physical traits, a multi-century lifespan, and incredible resilience from contagious alien plagues.
Books focused on eugenics have historically not appealed to me, but in this case it works because the blessing of Hadrian’s paletine bloodline is offset by the various travesties that fate keeps throwing towards him.
Joy is a wind, Hadrian. It will pick you up only to smash you against the rocks again
He is a character precisely crafted to appeal to introverts, and it becomes obvious very early on that the author really knows their audience. Hadrian has been burdened with expectations since his early life, what his heart desires forever at odds with what the people in power want of him, their intentions notwithstanding. With parents who have always been distant, a brother who is effectively a stranger, he has always felt like an outsider in his homeworld. The only individual he feels close to is his tutor - a wise “scholiast” who has served the family over generations. His mentor’s influence cultivates in him a lifelong interest in languages and draws him towards a pursuit of exploration of the unknown, a life his father simply would not allow. Loved how the focus on art and linguistics continues to play a crucial role in the story throughout.
How disjointed the palatine family is. A cabal of strangers bound by something thinner than lowborn families. Not blood, not really—only our genetic constellation.
I do wish the treatment of linguistics received some more attention, and perhaps a great incorporation of futuristic elements.
Despite all the aspects I enjoyed, the plot felt unsatisfying in places. The Umandh rebellion was the first oddity - something that springs up out of the blue and connects to nothing before or after. Also, the hardened control-freak inquisitor just leaving Hadrian with the Cielcin when the chaos rapidly unravels defied credulity.
In general, the whole brownout business and how it was propped up with a hand-wavy mention of a neural lace left me with a bit of a bad aftertaste. Is there a trick more overused in all of fiction?
I can make peace with fantasy in space, but my heart does yearn for details. Having said that, given the potential of Ruocchio’s intricate world-building, there is always the possibility that things that don’t connect or aren’t clarified yet will get a better treatment eventually.
I do intend to jump into the next in the series. The hook towards the ending makes sure of that. Mythical space pirates? Yes, please!
And from the dark it came, a voice like the end of the world.