The Howling Dark - Christopher Ruocchio

The Howling Dark is the second in Christopher Ruocchio’s “Sun Eater” series. The first was a thoroughly enjoyable blend of space-opera and military SF, with some thoughtful characterisation and exploration of philosophical themes. It gave us a fast-paced sci-fi adventure, the journey of a boy into a man, and a backdrop of imperialism and repression cloaked in the mantle of necessity. It gave us Hadrian, whose efforts to be a better person had a tendency to end badly for him – even as those hardships shaped him into a thoughtful man and a valiant commander, while leaving him an idealist, a believer still in himself and humanity. It was a lot of fun, too!

The Howling Dark takes the series, and its hero, to new places; it retains the narrative details and complexity that help build a compelling story, and builds on Hadrian’s experience to paint a portrait of a protagonist on the cusp of revelation – though what form that will take is open to question. This is a text that holds a darker mood than its predecessor; the prose wrapped up in a gloriously Gothic panoply.

The first book showed us a central human empire, a mixture of high-technology and semi-feudal social structures, assured of its own greatness and role at the centre of things. While that came with a certain arrogance, and while we could see the fissures running through that social contract, still, this was the centre of the light in terms of galactic civilisation. Sometimes brutal, yes, but a space where people lived and worked and suffered and were content.

Now, however, we move to the liminal spaces. Hadrian moves across the page, hunting a way to communicate, to negotiate with the aliens that are slowly embroiling humanity in a war. That means working at the boundaries. The places where the writ of the greater part of humanity runs thin. These are strange places, dark places. Following our hero and his entourage into some very deep holes is problematic. Stealing through ships larger than cathedrals, unearthing the wonders and horrors therein, seeking an understanding cloaked beneath centuries of hidden realities and outright untruths. 

The world is larger than Hadrian knew, and here we get to see a piece of it outside of the constraints of the Empire from the previous text. And yes, there are bio-technical wonders and horrors. And yes, there are secrets unearthed and hidden from view. But it’s cloaked in a baroque strangeness which can make the skin crawl. In the crafted bio-oddities whose mental adjustments are a skin-crawling horror. In the laser-sharp attitudes of those shaping lives for their own purposes. In the stiletto-thin puncture as those in roles of ancient power change the direction of the universe without a thought.

These are strange spaces, ones which challenge the perception and mentality of the reader. The crafted horrors which inhabit them also inhabit their own conceptual space. How far is humanity stretched once the freedom to choose, outside the realm of biochemical triggers, is removed? The text explores these questions alongside the idea of transhumanism. Hadrian, one of the Imperial aristocracy, is the recipient of gene coding which will let him age slowly, in good health, with speed and stamina to match. But other changes, forbidden by Imperial society, occur on the fringes. From weight-lifting to free will, everything is for sale on the fringes. The atmosphere of creeping dread is one that is masterfully spun, and difficult to dismiss. Each page carries the quiet signs of horror, ciphered in more mundane matters. It’s still a sprawling, thriving, complicated universe – but perhaps a less simple one. Those outside the borders of the Imperium are now people, not abstracts. Though their decisions may baffle us as much as they do Hadrian, this is a delightfully weird dip into a new, unusual culture.

Hadrian, speaking of which, is changing again. This is a story which isn’t afraid to carve away at the soul of this protagonist, to see what they want and will and how they would ave it, and then flense away their choices, one at a time, until every option is the least-worst. Hadrian is a good lad. He’s willing to fight and kill and even damn himself for his beliefs  He’s a tough person not to empathise with, even when making the sort of decisions which make you prone to shouting at a book. He’s a good lad, with a good heart, running full-tilt into a more obdurate universe. That said, Had is a thoughtful lead, one willing to consider his actions before leaping feet-first into the fray. As the story rolls on, his own ideological edges are being filed off, and it’s a joy to watch (albeit somewhat depressing). He’s joined by a circle of friends, mostly from the preceding book. The bonds of friendship, trust and loyalty are described in the subtext, but clearly enough that you can almost see them, glittering gold in the recycled ships air. Though we live Had’s point of view, his friends and colleagues are not ciphers; they live and love and fight beneath his gaze, and their conflicts, if ancillary, are just as absorbing as Had’s own.

So, alright, it’s a strong character piece, with a fantastic backdrop of sci-fi conflict within a universe with a rich history. But why do you care? Why are you turning pages? Because it kicks arse. Because Had moves from page to page with increasing amounts of blood on his hands, trying to do the best that he can for everyone. Because the aliens on the march are monsters, but understandable enough that understanding can be possible. Because the ancient history of this universe, with its Mericanii and AI is actually our moderate future. It’s a story of Had’s search for meaning, in is need to shape the universe to make sense – and the refusal of the universe to oblige.

It’s a philosophical treatise sneaked in between gunfire, immortality and immortal horrors. It’s a story which isn’t afraid to ask the questions around the heroism of its protagonist – though for now it leaves the final call up to the reader. There are space battles, no doubt. Bloody and dark with the scream of vacuum There are sword fights and banter and brutality and blood. In between, as our hero inches ever closer to a war they don’t want, there are mediations on the human condition, and exposure to a complicated universe, filled with powers perhaps best-left forgotten.  This is the bottom of the lake, filled with darkness, dirt and tentacles as much as with the promised glint of silver.

So. What is it, in the end? It’s a cracking sequel, for one thing. A nuanced character study within a precision-crafted work of science fiction, one filled with passionate intensity. Once you’ve finished Empire of Silence, once you’re looking for something more, this is what you should pick up next.