The Resurrection of Abnett - The Bequin Trilogy: Pariah

Being the flagship writer for an entire sci-fi sub genre must be stressful. Not only do you have to please your fans, but your paymasters, loan sharks and own grandmother. So I've always cut Dan Abnett a little bit of slack as usually he comes through guns a'blazin' and delivers a riveting read. But lately his powers have been clouded by violent warp storms, hiding his prestigious talent for wholesale, literary destruction behind a few novels that haven't been quite up to scratch. Those being Prospero Burns, which suffers from some severe pacing issues, Salvations Reach, which stretches the realms of believability even in the 41st Millenium and Know No Fear, which was just too darn short and lacking in solid character development. Then again it was about the Ultramarines, so Dan really had his work cut out from the start.


Due to this recent bout of strife I've therefore been a bit shy of the blackest of libraries, instead focussing on my love of video games and fantasy Blood Bowl league. So when I picked up Pariah the other day it was without much enthusiasm, my telltale banter with the surprisingly well informed cashier falling flat on it's face despite his shared love of all that is grim and dark. Mentioning the current disillusionment with the 40k universe proved a greater error than originally supposed, for of my £10 gift card none was returned to me. Instead the diabolical fan boy destroyed it before my eyes, following up with a less than sincere apology, that was about as convincing as Hitler's shrug following his violation of the Munich Agreement. But I digress.
Ravenor vs Eisenhorn is, for all intents and purposes, a giant wet dream on the lining of that fan boy's over stretched boxers. It is the culmination of not one, but two of the Black Library's most iconic sci-fi sagas and by god if that didn't scare the living shit out of me. A failure would likely have sounded the death knell of my years long affair with Orks, Space Marines and those funky dressing Eldar. So it is with a solemn hand on heart that I can announce not only did Pariah exceed extremely low expectations, but announce Abnett's return to form.


One of the finest aspects of his writing has always been in setting the scene, in creating his own world within a copy-written universe. It's where a lot of 40k novels fall down, getting caught in the image of endless battlefields and sacrificial stock characters. In both Ravenor and Eisenhorn we are treated to a plethora of different worlds and cultures that showcase the weird and wonderful. Ranging from secret Mechanicus bases to dilapidated manors that sound like something straight out of a Steven King novel. And Pariah is no exception, the entire story taking place within the living, breathing city of Queen Mab. A monarch gone to seed but still possessing a glimmer of her old charm. Which is where our main protagonist Alizebeth Bequin finds her playground as not only an Inquisitorial agent in training, but as one of those rarest of creatures, a pariah. A walking hole in the world.


Of course anyone familiar with Abnett's earlier works will recognise this name immediately, harking back to the original Eisenhorn novels.  It's not the only blast from the past to make an appearance, with the nefarious Cognitae and many a character from the previous outings popping by to say hello. Obviously we can't go into too much detail without screaming spoilers, so you'll just have to take my word for it that the stroll down memory lane is a worthwhile one. It should be stated however, that the majority of the novel is fixated on launching the trilogy and introducing the characters involved. It is not a nostalgia roller coaster from start to finish, but rather more subtle. It's actually very well done, allowing the reader to play detective in figuring out not only the motivations of certain characters, but who they actually are in the grander scheme of things. For sure nothing is ever as it seems, the entire story line infused with Inquisitorial levels of duplicity.


As Bequin moves through the plot, becoming steadily more suspicious of everyone around her we are left with a certain level of paranoia as to what we as readers can trust. For unlike Alizebeth we know that something catastrophic is in the offing, that a chaotic element could at any moment reveal itself. In this regard the novel fails partially in it's suspense by being a tad predictable. It is perhaps a failing that was unavoidable, for being the final part of Abnett's universe many of his deceptions have been accordingly demonstrated in his other novels. For while we may not know exactly what the deception is, we are still braced for it. It should be said that this foreknowledge of possible events doesn't effect the story a great deal, Abnett executing a number of twists that even the sharpest among us are unlikely to foresee. It rather serves as a reminder that like Gregor Eisenhorn himself, the series is certainly a little played out and frayed around the edges in it's execution.


So I think I'll leave things here for now, for fear of treading on anybody's toes. The most important thing to take away is that Pariah is a worthy successor/continuation to the Eisenhorn/Ravenor saga. It's almost like Abnett reset his internal writing clock to the days when the Horus Heresy wasn't the centre of the Black Library's world and the potential for innovation was more forthcoming. Less dictated by the strictures of Games Workshop's premier series. It's clever, it keeps you guessing and reads like a mystery novel at a time when the genre has pulled a little too violently towards explosions and spectacle. Whether the next two novels can maintain the same level of intrigue is open to the forum. Certainly the next book will reveal more of the story and the potential staying power of Abnett as not only a successful Black Library author, but a good one at that.

In Midnight Clad - Void Stalker

We all love anti heroes. It's hard to resist them. They're usually cooler, deadlier and downright more badass than your regular, run of the mill hero and have the odd ability to make us all feel a little edgier. Like that's what we'd be in the face of adversity. James Bourne wielding a pistol like a composite marksman, Riddick as he cleaves his way through yet another unjust bounty hunter (while selectively forgetting why he's being hunted). It all evokes a certain rebellious streak, that although we'd probably not be evil in such a situation, it doesn't mean we couldn't indulge our nastier sides from time to time. It is in this vein that Mr Bowden operates, as he has throughout his Nightlords novels, to bring us a selection of relatable, psychotic Traitor Astartes in Void Stalker.

I think something I've always enjoyed the most about Talos and his company of murderers, psychopaths and general degenerates is the way in which Bowden uses them to play with his readers sympathies. For each moment you see them briefly as less than monsters, when they perform an action that could be described as honourable, it is later stripped away by their depravity and boundless cruelty. It really pushes the envelope of the anti hero archetype, so much so that you are left with a series of horrors punctuated by a moments decency. Bowden makes sure you remember these guys are traitors, there is torture galore here, and yet when they go toe to toe with the Emperor's finest of the Genesis Chapter, boy do you want to see them kill those smug Imperium bastards. It's almost like watching Bowden's three dimensional characters cutting down the less developed creations of the Black Library, and it's exceptionally satisfying.

It's important to consider Void Stalker as part of a larger story, a conclusion to the previous novels of Soul Hunter and Blood Reaver. Does it fulfill what is promised? Is it an epic conclusion? To both of these questions I can answer with a resounding, yes. That isn't to say that the book is perfect, but that it successfully ends the series without dropping at the final hurdle, ala Spider Man. You may have noted that all the examples here so far have been movies, something I felt important to emphasise. Bowden writes in a way that could be easily translated to the big screen, enjoying a far better plethora of action moments, dramatic faceoffs and character developments than was displayed in the near woeful Ultramarines film. Interestingly, the Genesis Chapter is a progenitor of the Ultramarines, so perhaps Void Stalker aided me in working through some deep seated issues?

The story once again revolves around Talos, or the Prophet as he is known and the battle not only with the Imperium, but his brothers and himself. He reaches the climax of his introspection in Void Stalker, his realisations about his Legion and the universe around him. This is intermixed seamlessly with flashbacks to the fall of the Nightlords' last great fortress on the planet of Tsagualsa, to the Progenitors of the hated Ultramarines. Action, character deaths and murderess brutality run throughout the story, with a number of gory scenes bringing home the depravity that even Talos, the main protagonist after all, engages in with relish. It's all quite disturbing for as already discussed, these guys are not your quintessential heroes.  While you can understand them you can never really support them. Only enjoy the ride. I have to admit, in the final confrontation I enjoyed each kill inflicted on the Nightlords, while simultaneously egging them on to see their reactions, their insane bravery. They are one hell of a contradiction and a testament to Bowden's ability to weave such an intricate web. Balancing the Nightlords' demented psyche with a great story, while not travelling into the realms of silliness and camp, bad guy overkill.  Just thinking about such complications makes me want to peel the skin from some innocent bystander and wear it as a cape.  You think I'm sick?  You ain't seen nothing yet.

So to conclude, Mr Bowden has executed a fine ending to a top notch series. Sporting Astartes one can relate too, action scenes which are as bloody as they are exciting and a twist ending you don't expect, Void Stalker is the pinnacle of Space Marine writing. What makes this truly remarkable is the fact that the novel focuses on a traitor legion, something you would have thought would make the process more difficult. But as Bowden showed in the absorbing and near irresistible First Heretic he genuinely seems to understand the minds of the fallen, putting him on top of the Black Library pile for me. For many can write a great action scene, but few could truly express what it means to walk in Midnight Clad. I'll be doubtless reading this series for many years to come, and so should you.

Legion of the Damned - Rob Sanders Returns

Rob Sanders genuinely seems to understand the grim and dark of the far future, perhaps better than any other Black Library writer. His portrayal of the universe is merciless and at times, downright nasty, so as you can imagine I was pretty excited to hear he was bringing his talents to the Space Marine Battles series. Then to hear he'd been given the Legion of the Damned as his subject, well, I was pumped full of nerd sugar and ready to fly. As such I picked up the novel on it's release and demolished it within the day, and I have to say, it wasn't what I expected.

One of the greatest facets of the 40k universe is it's grandiose scale, the sheer size and magnitude of it being a singular draw for sci-fi fans and pulp fiction readers. Everything has something of a legendary status, from the might of the Astartes to the star destroying fire power of the Imperial Navy, so there's lots of meat to sink one's teeth into. This, however, can be something of a handicap when bringing the universe to life in detail, for some aspects don't quite work. The best example of this is the Grey Knights novels by Ben Counter. Given the near unstoppable and mind wiped nature of Chapter 666, no work could ever do them justice, for they are too far outside of the norm. In this regard, Rob Sanders dealt well with the mythical status of the Legion of the Damned, by making them a component of the story but not its main focus. Instead we follow Zacariah Kersh, shamed warrior of the Excoriators Chapter towards his greatest battle, and encounter with the Damned

In true form, Sander's universe is a dark one, with the Excoriators indulging in their eternal self flagellation for the failure of their Primarch, Rogal Dorn, to save the Emperor from the traitor Horus. Following a disastrous ambush by the duplicitous Alpha Legion, Zacariah Kersh is left a reviled figure having failed his Chapter Master and losing the Chapter Standard. Much like with Mortensen in Redemption Corps he is not a likable character in the traditional sense, haunted by his failure and the ghost who heralds the coming of the Damned. This Revenant will follow him throughout the story, allowing Kersh to express his doubts and feelings in relation to the story at large and was something of a masterstroke by Sanders in relation to Kersh's development as a character. It allows him to be more than another cardboard cut out Space Marine, mired in duty and lacking in personality. It makes him easier to relate with, for who hasn't failed at some point in their lives? Add to this the hostile reactions of his subordinates and the ever present threat from without the Chapter, and it's hard to find a moments calm in the 41st millennium.

Having established such a rich and intricate main protagonist and world, one would have hoped for an equally engaging battle. After all, it is in the name of the series. Sadly however, this never quite materialises for a number of reasons. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, the setting is too small. The planet of Certus Minor is a cemetery world with a tiny population and equally tiny garrison. Possessing but one major city it lacks any great scope and effectively pin holes 40k's greatest strength, its sheer size. The visual of the great Chaos host, the Cholercaust, descending on this tiny Rorke's Drift of a planet is an exciting one, however the fighting never feels heroically desperate, but hopeless and resigned. This is not to say that the visuals are not impressive, the scenes depicted with great care, but rather that they lack that superhuman quality that so defines Bowden's Helsreach or Wraight's struggle for the Fang. It just falls a little flat. As sadly, does the appearance of the Legion of the Damned. In a rather peculiar turn they possess a mere 15 to 20 pages towards the end of the novel, and don't make any great impact upon the reader. They simply appear, do their duty, and fade away. It was all a little lack lustre.

So to conclude, is Legion of the Damned worth your time? Despite never quite reaching it's potential, floundering at the final bolter round, I would have to say yes. Putting aside my own Sanders worshipping it is still an extremely entertaining read, possessing treachery, disaster and the diabolical followers of Chaos. The fact that it falls shy is disappointing but not crippling, a testament to the style and skill with which the author executes the rest of the story. So while there may be too few instances of ghost Astartes spilling Khornate blood, it's still a four star read, even if you are left with a slight niggling at the end for what could have been.