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It was not his war. On the wrong planet, at the right time, for the best reasons, Hadrian Marlowe started down a path that could only end in fire. The galaxy remembers him as a hero: the man who burned every last alien Cielcin from the sky. They remember him as a monster: the devil who destroyed a sun, casually annihilating four billion human lives--even the Emperor himself--against Imperial orders. But Hadrian was not a hero. He was not a monster. He was not even a soldier. Fleeing his father and a future as a torturer, Hadrian finds himself stranded on a strange, backwater world. Forced to fight as a gladiator and into the intrigues of a foreign planetary court, he will find himself fight a war he did not start, for an Empire he does not love, against an enemy he will never understand.… (more)
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Penguin First to Read Galley
A good start to a new series and for all you hear about the wrong things that Hadrian will do in his future from himself as he breaks the fourth wall on occasion to remind us it is a memoir this is a story of a young man trying to find his way in the universe and come out on top.
Digital review copy provided by the publisher through NetGalley
In "The Empire of Silence" by Christopher Ruocchio
As I wrote elsewhere, the SF market nowadays is saturated with crap far beyond anything humanity has ever seen. For casual SF readers who do not have time in selecting their next read, this is likely not a big deal. But for long-time SF “connoisseurs” like yours truly, it represents a number of challenges. One of these is finding books that are not exactly the same as another book, but which hold a large number of elements or devices in common. The market for Space Opera the past ten years, for example, seems to have had not only its surface filled out, but all its anal interstices filled in as well. Is it still impossible to be novel in a Space-Opera-setting nowadays? After having read “The Empire of Silence” I believe it is possible. With this afterthought in mind, what then does Christopher Ruocchio have to add with “The Empire of Silence” to SF? Answer: everything. It’s not for nothing that Ruocchio chooses the name Hadrian for the novel’s main character... As with Yourcenar’s “Memoirs of Hadrian”, Ruocchio depicts a Hadrian in the first person, but here not addressing his adopted grandson (in Yourcenar’s novel, Hadrian’s grandson is a descendant of power, and discusses his past with a passionate approach and a confessional force that makes the Roman pontifical for we are an intimate man). Here Hadrian addresses and attempts at defying is father the real power. “The Empire of Silence” lengthens our personality and makes us as readers different. And our life can only thank Ruocchio for transmuting fictional printed lives in a sea of words lived and relived. Through Hadrian's voice, countless others speak, and the memorialistic portrait of his personality, human par excellence, is also the portrait of a SFional era, in rigorous historical reconstruction. His narrative philosophically associates sociological and psychological dimensions. The imperial policy conducted by Ruocchio’s Empire in the vast territories that it conquered inspires lingering considerations to Hadrian, here and there with strange resonances in our own historical conjuncture, such as the pretended civilizing mission of a people towards others, seen as barbarians. Today's distinctions and the ideal of peace distinguish this SFional Hadrian, although a peace based on imperial rule.
The musicality of Ruocchio's writing makes each line an electrical wire that holds the senses to the book, whether in the deep touch of details or in moments of comprehensive design of environments and people, that is, “history” (the story is told in retrospect), in the image of human memory.
Ruocchio does not indulge in experimentalism of language or construction: a linear narrative of facts and episodes in the character's life, profusely enlivened by his rich thought, this “Empire of Silence” is unlikely to be an example of formal searching, at least in the sense of asking for unexpected novels in this day and age of crappy SF.
Along with Clarke’s “Piranesi”, Ruoccho’s “The Empire of Silence” belongs to the best SF I read in 2020.
SF = Speculative Fiction.
The series takes place some 20.000 years in the far future, when humanity has moved out into the stars creating the Sollan Empire, ruled according to a strict class system: Hadrian Marlowe is the protagonist of the saga and at the very start of the novel, written as Hadrian’s memoir, we learn that to remove the menace of the alien Cielcin, with whom humans had been at war for centuries, he destroyed a sun, and in so doing he obliterated both the Cielcin and billions of humans as well. In his youth, as the eldest son of the Marlowe family (lesser nobility from the planet Delos whose uranium mining facilities empowered them with notable financial clout) Hadrian had some difficulties in accepting his role, being gifted with scholarly inclinations and an impulsive character, neither of which sat well with his cold and ruthless father. When an incident threatened his public image, Hadrian was to be replaced as heir by his younger brother Crispin, and sent to the Chantry, the Empire’s religious power worshipping the memory of lost Earth and professing a strict dogma enforced through methods resembling those of the Spanish Inquisition. Trying to evade a fate he found abhorrent, Hadrian ended up on the planet of Emesh, alone, penniless and unable to reveal his identity for fear of being forcibly sent to the Chantry: to survive he entered the brutal gladiatorial games of the Colosso, where a chance encounter with a Cielcin prisoner launched him on the path that would turn him into the man who destroyed a sun…
This is a very compressed synopsis for a novel depicting the early years of a quite eventful life, of which Empire of Silence is only the first part: there is a great deal to parse in this first book of the saga, which proved to be a compelling read despite a few setbacks that can be easily attributed to the novel being a debut work - and as such it’s still a very well crafted one, its problems easily forgiven and forgotten in the engaging tale of Hadrian Marlowe’s journey from riches to rags to… whatever will come along the way. If at times the narrative loses its momentum, stalled by what might feel like an excessive focus on details or inner musings, it’s understandable that the author wanted to give his readers a full immersion in the world he created and let himself be swayed by maybe too much enthusiasm. Still, those moments were not enough to drive me away, because I have to admit that with such a powerful “hook” as the knowledge of Hadrian’s future, the exploration of his past becomes compelling and compulsory.
The world building is fascinating: the empire is ruled by a feudal system that borrows many elements from the Roman Empire, even employing many of its terms and some of its customs like the gladiatorial games in the Colosso, which amuse the nobility and enthrall the populace according to the age-old rule of panem et circenses. The few alien races encountered during humanity’s expansion have been enslaved and are used either as workforce or fodder for the games in the Colosso, any consideration for their rights smothered by the Chantry’s ruthless doctrine and the abject fear they inspire. The ruling classes - or palatines - enjoy genetic enhancements which confer them improved physiques and a longer life-span, the physical differences setting them apart from the rest of the populace just as much as their social station does. It’s an intriguing society we see depicted in this series, one where such technological advancement as genetic engineering go hand in hand with a deep loathing for machines and computers, which is enforced by the Chantry under the stigma of heresy.
The alien Cielcin are presented as equally intriguing, their motives and actions filtered through the wartime propaganda so that readers are left to wonder if they are truly the proverbial monsters or if there is more to their quest than the simple need for expansion: the protracted meetings between Hadrian and a captured Cielcin officer - one of the most harrowing segments of the story, due to the descriptions of callous torture inflicted by Chantry interrogators - seem to lead toward a different interpretation, which of course begs the question about Hadrian’s act of genocide disclosed at the very start of the novel.
As Hadrian describes the background in which his life takes place, he also proceeds in revealing himself with little or no attempt at sugarcoating: he freely shares his triumphs and his mistakes, the impulsive choices which often tend to land him in a situation that’s worse than the one he was trying to escape, his capacity for compassion and the mad urges that put him in danger more than once. There were times when I felt like slapping some sense into him, often forgetting that - at this point in the story - he’s still relatively young and therefore prone to mistakes, not to mention a victim of his upbringing and the cold environment in which he grew up, whose influence we learn by contrast once Hadrian establishes a rapport with his fellow arena fighters:
They cared because they chose to, and they did so with a gruff but quiet indelicacy that propped me up in my despair and whispered that this was what it was to have a family.
Being aware from the beginning of Hadrian’s fate might rob the reading journey of some surprises - we know that any danger he faces will not be a mortal one, for example - but on the other hand we are keenly curious to learn how such an epilogue will come to be, and that is the main attraction of this saga. The first book ends with the start of what promises to be an adventurous voyage of discovery, and while not being a dreaded cliffhanger, it left me anxious to know what kind of challenges the protagonist will face in the next installment. And luckily for me, I will not have to wait long to discover it :-)