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Empire of Silence Mass Market Paperback – June 4, 2019
It was not his war.
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.
On the wrong planet, at the right time, for the best reasons, Hadrian Marlowe starts down a path that can only end in fire. He flees his father and a future as a torturer only to be left stranded on a strange, backwater world.
Forced to fight as a gladiator and navigate the intrigues of a foreign planetary court, Hadrian must fight a war he did not start, for an Empire he does not love, against an enemy he will never understand.
- Print length768 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherDAW
- Publication dateJune 4, 2019
- Dimensions4.19 x 1.64 x 6.75 inches
- ISBN-10075641301X
- ISBN-13978-0756413019
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Editorial Reviews
Review
"Empire of Silence is epic science fiction at its most genuinely epic. Ruocchio has made something fascinating here, and I can't wait to see what he does next." —James S.A. Corey, New York Times-bestselling author of The Expanse novels
"Christopher Ruocchio's Empire of Silence is epic-scale space opera in the tradition of Iain M. Banks and Frank Herbert's Dune, without being a clone of either of them. His is a welcome new voice in science fiction." —Eric Flint, author of the bestselling 1632 series
“Empire of Silence has the sweep and political complexity of Dune (though no sandworms). It builds to a blazing climax, followed by a satisfying conclusion. I recommend the book.” —David Drake, bestselling author of the RCN Series
“Empire of Silence is a rich tapestry of future history and worldbuilding, a galactic-sized story of a hero, a tyrant, but portrayed as a man.” —Kevin J. Anderson, New York Times-bestselling author of The Dark Between the Stars
“Empire of Silence packs in action and erudition in equal measure. This is a gripping first installment in a space opera that delivers both high-adrenaline thrills and hard-earned wisdom about the human spirit.” —D.J. Butler, author of Witchy Eye
“A richly imagined epic, briskly and vividly told.” —R.M. Meluch, author of the Tour of the Merrimack series
“A craftsman of rare ability, Christopher Ruocchio lures you into a future filled with danger, action, irony, vaulting prose, and a few, precious dollops of hope.” —David Brin, author of Earth and The Postman
"Space opera fans will savor the rich details of Ruocchio’s far-future debut, which sets the scene for a complicated series.... Readers who like a slow-building story with a strong character focus will find everything they’re looking for in this series opener." —Publishers Weekly
"Although stretched across a vast array of planets, the story line is often more focused on the intimate than on the expanse, giving it a wonderful emotional punch. This wow book is a must for fans of Pierce Brown and Patrick Rothfuss." —Library Journal (starred review)
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
HADRIAN
Light.
The light of that murdered sun still burns me. I see it through my eyelids, blazing out of history from that bloody day, hinting at fires indescribable. It is like something holy, as if it were the light of God’s own heaven that burned the world and billions of lives with it. I carry that light always, seared into the back of my mind. I make no excuses, no denials, no apologies for what I have done. I know what I am.
The scholiasts might start at the beginning, with our remote ancestors clawing their way out of Old Earth’s system in their leaking vessels, those peregrines making their voyages to new and living worlds. But no. To do so would take more volumes and ink than my hosts have left at my disposal, and even I, who has more time than any other, have not the time for that.
Should I chronicle the war, then? Start with the alien Cielcin howling out of space in ships like castles of ice? You can find the war stories, read the death counts. The statistics. No context can make you understand the cost. Cities razed, planets burned. Countless billions of our people ripped from their worlds to serve as meat and slaves for those Pale monsters. Families old as empires ended in light and fire. The tales are numberless, and they are not enough. The Empire has its official version, one that ends in my execution, with Hadrian Marlowe hanged for all the worlds to see.
I do not doubt that this tome will do aught but collect dust in the archive where I have left it, one manuscript amongst billions at Colchis. Forgotten. Perhaps that is best. The worlds have had enough of tyrants, enough of murderers and genocides.
But perhaps you will read on, tempted by the thought of reading the work of so great a monster as the one made in my image. You will not let me be forgotten because you want to know what it was like to stand aboard that impossible ship and rip the heart out of a star. You want to feel the heat of two civilizations burning and to meet the dragon, the devil that wears the name my father gave me.
So let us bypass history, sidestep the politics and the marching tramp of empires. Forget the beginnings of mankind in the fire and ash of Old Earth, and so too ignore the Cielcin rising in cold and from darkness. Those tales are recorded elsewhere in all the tongues of mankind and her subjects. Let us move to the only beginning I’ve a right to: my own.
I was born the eldest son and heir to Alistair Marlowe, Archon of Meidua Prefecture, Butcher of Linon, and Lord of Devil’s Rest. No place for a child, that palace of dark stone, but it was my home all the same, amid the logothetes and the armored peltasts who served my father. But Father never wanted a child. He wanted an heir, someone to inherit his slice of Empire and to carry on our family legacy. He named me Hadrian, an ancient name, meaningless save for the memories of those men who carried it before me. An Emperor’s name, fit to rule and be followed.
Dangerous things, names. A kind of curse, defining us that we might live up to them, or giving us something to run away from. I have lived a long life, longer than the genetic therapies the great houses of the peerage can contrive, and I have had many names. During the war, I was Hadrian Halfmortal and Hadrian the Deathless. After the war, I was the Sun Eater. To the poor people of Borosevo, I was a myrmidon called Had. To the Jaddians, I was Al Neroblis. To the Cielcin, I was Oimn Belu and worse things besides. I have been many things: soldier and servant, captain and captive, sorcerer and scholar and little more than a slave.
But before I was any of these, I was a son.
* * *
My mother was late to my birth, and both my parents watched from a platform above the surgical theater while I was decanted from the vat. They say I screamed as the scholiasts birthed me and that I had all my teeth in my head. Thus nobility is always born: without encumbering the mother and under the watchful eye of the Imperial High College, ensuring that our genetic deviations had not turned to defects and curdle in our blood. Besides, childbearing of the traditional sort would have required my parents to share a bed, which neither was inclined to do. Like so many nobiles, my parents wed out of political necessity.
My mother, I later learned, preferred the company of women to that of my father and rarely spent time on the family estate, attending my father only during formal functions. My father, by contrast, preferred his work. Lord Alistair Marlowe was not the sort of man who gave attention to his vices. Indeed, my father was not the sort of man who had vices. He was possessed by his office and by the good name of our house.
By the time I was born, the Crusade had been raging for three hundred years since the first battle with the Cielcin at Cressgard, but it was far away across some twenty thousand light- years of Empire and open space, out where the Veil opened on the Norma Arm. While my father did his best to impress upon me the gravity of the situation, things at home were quiet, save for the levies the Imperial Legions pulled from the plebeians every decade. We were decades from the front even on the fastest ships, and despite the fact that the Cielcin were the greatest threat our species had faced since the death of Old Earth, things were not so dire as that.
As you might expect from parents such as mine, I was given into the hands of my father’s servants almost at once. Father doubtless returned to his work within an hour of my birth, having wasted all the time he could afford that day on so troubling a distraction as his son. Mother returned to her mother’s house to spend time with her siblings and lovers; as I said, mother was not involved in the family’s bleak business.
That business was uranium. My father’s lands sat atop some of the richest deposits in the sector, and our family had presided over its extraction for generations. The money my father pulled in through the Wong-Hopper Consortium and Free Traders Union made him the richest man on Delos, richer even than the vicereine, my grandmother.
I was four when Crispin was born, and at once my little brother began to prove himself the ideal heir, which is to say that he obeyed my father, if no one else. At two he was almost as large as I was at six, and by five Crispin had gained a head on me. I never made up that difference.
I had all the education you might expect the son of a prefectural archon to have. My father’s castellan, Sir Felix Martyn, taught me to fight with sword, shield- belt, and handgun. He taught me to fire a lance and trained my body away from indolence. From Helene, the castle’s chamberlain, I learned decorum: the intricacies of the bow and the handshake and of formal address. I learned to dance, to ride a horse and a skiff, and to fly a shuttle. From Abiatha, the old chanter who tended the belfry and the altar in the Chantry sanctum, I learned not only prayer but skepticism and that even priests have doubts. From his masters, the priors of the Holy Terran Chantry, I learned to guard those doubts for the heresy they were. And of course there was my mother, who told me stories: tales of Simeon the Red, Cid Arthur, and Kasia Soulier. Tales of Kharn Sagara. You laugh, but there is a magic in stories that cannot be ignored.
And yet it was Tor Gibson who made me the man I am, he who taught me my first lesson. “Knowledge is the mother of fools,” he said. “Remember, the greatest part of wisdom in recognizing your own ignorance.” He always said such things. He taught me rhetoric, arithmetic, and history.He schooled me in biology, mechanics, astrophysics, and philosophy. It was he who taught me languages and a love for words; by ten I spoke Mandar well as any child of the interspace corporations and could read the fire poetry of Jadd like a true acolyte of their faith. Most important of all, it was he who taught me about the Cielcin, the murderous, marauding alien scourge chewing at the edges of civilization. It was he who taught me a fascination with the xenobites and their cultures.
I can only hope the history books will not damn him for it.
* * *
“You look comfortable,” said Tor Gibson, voice like a dry wind in the still air of the training hall.
Moving slowly, I pulled out of the complex stretch I’d folded myself into and flowed through the next position, twisting my spine. “Sir Felix and Crispin will be here soon. I want to be ready.” Through the small, arched windows set high in the stone walls, I could just make out the calls of seabirds, their noise muffled by the house shields.
The old scholiast, face impassive as a stone, moved round into my line of sight, slippered feet scuffing on the mosaic tile work. Stooped though he was by time, the old tutor still stood taller than me, his square face smiling now beneath his mane of white hair, side whiskers making him look like nothing so much as the lions the vicereine kept in her menagerie. “Looking to put the little master flat on his ass, are you?”
“Which ass?” I grinned, stooping to touch my toes, voice creaking a little with the strain. “The one between his ears?”
Gibson’s thin smile vanished. “You’d do well not to speak of your brother thus.”
I shrugged, adjusting one of the thin straps that kept my dueling jerkin flat over my shirt. Leaving Gibson where he stood, I crossed barefoot to the rack where the training weapons waited on display by the fencing round, a slightly elevated wooden disc about twenty feet across, marked for dueling practice. “Did we have a lesson this morning, Gibson? I thought it wasn’t until this afternoon.”
“What?” He tipped his head, shuffling a little closer, and I had to remind myself that though he moved well, Gibson was not a young man. He had not been a young man when his order commissioned him to tutor my father, who was himself nearing three hundred standard years. Gibson cupped a gnarled hand to one ear. “What was that?”
Turning, I spoke more plainly, straightening my back as I’d been taught in order to better project. I was to be archon of that old castle in time, and speechcraft was a palatine’s dearest weapon. “I thought our lesson was later.”
He could not have forgotten. Gibson forgot nothing, which would have been an extraordinary quality were it not the basest requirement for being what he was: a scholiast. His mind was trained to be a substitute for those daimon machines forbidden by the Chantry’s holiest law, and so could not afford to forget. “It is, Hadrian. Later, yes.” He coughed into one viridian sleeve, eyed the camera drone that lurked near the vaulted ceiling. “I was hoping I might have a word privately.”
The blunted backsword in my hand slipped a little. “Now?”
“Before your brother and the castellan arrive, yes.”
I turned and placed the sword back in its place between the rapiers and the sabers, spared the drone a glance myself, knowing full well that its optics were trained on me. I was the archon’s eldest, after all, and so subject to as much protection—and scrutiny—as father was himself. There were places in Devil’s Rest where two might have a truly private conversation, but none were near the training hall. “Here?”
“In the cloister.” Distracted a moment, Gibson looked down at my bare feet. “No shoes?”
Mine were not the feet of a pampered nobile. They looked more like the feet of some bondsman, with sheets of callous so thick I had taped the joints of my largest toes to keep the skin from tearing. “Sir Felix says bare feet are best for training.”
“Does he now?”
“He says you’re less likely to roll an ankle.” I broke off, all too aware of the time. “Our word . . . can’t it wait? They should be here soon.”
“If it must.” Gibson bobbed his head, short- fingered hands smoothing the front of his robe and its bronze sash. In my sparring clothes I felt shabby by comparison, though in truth his garments were plain: simple cotton, but well dyed to that hue that is greener than life itself.
The old scholiast was on the verge of saying more when the double doors to the training hall banged open and my brother appeared, grinning his lupine grin. Crispin was everything I was not: tall where I was short, strongly built where I was thin as a reed, square-faced where mine was pointed. For all that, our kinship was undeniable. We had the same ink-dark Marlowe hair, the same marble complexion, the same aquiline nose and steep eyebrows above the same violet eyes. We were clearly products of the same genetic constellation, our genomes altered in the same fashion to fit the same mold. The palatine houses—greater and lesser—went to extravagant lengths to craft such an image so that the learned could tell a house by the genetic markers of face and body as easily as by the devices worn on uniforms and painted on banners.
The craggy castellan, Sir Felix Martyn, followed in Crispin’s wake, dressed in dueling leathers with his sleeves rolled past his elbows. He spoke first, raising a gloved hand. “Oy! Here already?”
I moved past Gibson to meet the two. “Just stretching, sir.”
The castellan inclined his head, scratching at his skein of tangled gray-black hair. “Very good, then.” He noticed Gibson for the first time. “Tor Gibson! Strange to see you out of the cloister at this hour!”
“I was looking for Hadrian.”
“Do you need him?” The knight hooked his thumbs through his belt. “We’ve a lesson now.”
Gibson shook his head swiftly, ducking into a slight bow before the castellan. “It can wait.” Then he was gone, moving quietly from the hall. The doors slammed, sending a temple-hushed boom through the vaulted hall. For half a moment, Crispin did a comic impression of Gibson’s stooped, lurching step. I glared at him, and my brother had the good grace to look abashed, rubbing his palms over the coal-dark stubble on his scalp.
“Shields at full charge?” Felix asked, clapping his hands together with a dull, leathered snap. “Very good.”
In legend, the hero is almost always taught to fight by some sunstruck hermit, some mystic who sets his pupils to chasing cats, cleaning vehicles, and writing poetry. In Jadd, it is said that the swordmasters—the Maeskoloi—do all these things and might go for years before so much as touching a sword. Not I. Under Felix, my education was a rigor of unending drills. Many hours a day I spent in his care, learning to hold my own. No mysticism, only practice, long and tedious until the motions of lunge and parry were easy as breathing. For among the palatine nobility of the Sollan Empire—both men and women—skill with arms is accounted a chief virtue, not only because any of us might aspire to knighthood or to service in the Legions but because dueling served as a safety valve for the pressures and prejudices that might otherwise boil into vendettas. Thus any scion of any house might at some point be expected to take up arms in defense of her own honor or that of his house.
“I still owe you for last time, you know,” Crispin said when we had finished our drills and faced one another across the fencing round. His thick lips twisted into a jagged smile, making him look like nothing so much as the blunt instrument he was.
I smiled to match his, though on my face I hoped the effect was less swaggering. “You have to hit me first.”
Product details
- Publisher : DAW (June 4, 2019)
- Language : English
- Mass Market Paperback : 768 pages
- ISBN-10 : 075641301X
- ISBN-13 : 978-0756413019
- Item Weight : 13 ounces
- Dimensions : 4.19 x 1.64 x 6.75 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #701,984 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,778 in Science Fiction Short Stories
- #2,267 in Alien Invasion Science Fiction
- #8,377 in Space Operas
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Christopher Ruocchio is the internationally award-winning author of the Sun Eater, a series blending elements of both science fiction and fantasy, as well as more than twenty works of short fiction. A graduate of North Carolina State University, he sold his first novel, Empire of Silence, at 22, and his books have appeared in 5 languages. He curated 8 short story anthologies for Baen Books, including Sword & Planet, Time Troopers, and Worlds Long Lost. His work has also appeared in Marvel Comics.
Christopher lives in Raleigh, North Carolina with his family.
Customer reviews
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers praise the story for its narration, prose, and world-building. They find the characters well-developed and relatable with personalities. Many describe the book as a profound beginning to a space opera. The plot is interesting and epic, with dramatic heartfelt scenes. Overall, customers enjoy the journey and find it satisfying. However, opinions differ on the pacing.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers enjoy the storytelling. They find the narration amazing and the characters realistic. The prose is stellar and introspective, and the story is carefully thought out. Readers appreciate the detailed world-building and realistic journey into interplanetary war.
"...He completely sold the story, from high adrenaline intense scenes to the more dramatic heartfelt scenes, everything felt like a top notch performance..." Read more
"...It is beautifully written with vivid descriptions and creative choice of words. It challenged my vocabulary, but that is something that I enjoy...." Read more
"...overall prose was a lovely balance between straight forward/direct and poetic – with the poetic passages being (mostly) limited to Hadrian’s inner..." Read more
"...The prose is stellar (pun intended) and introspective, the characters well developed and relateable, and the plot will leave you white knuckles by..." Read more
Customers enjoy the engaging world-building. They find the universe complex and rich, with depth. The writing and creative cultural languages enhance their knowledge of the empire, its planets, and inhabitants. Readers appreciate the exploration and development of the story.
"...Another Red Rising comp is because the world is very Greek/Roman-esk, which is always going to be a selling point for me...." Read more
"...The next thing I enjoyed was the world building. It was done without huge explanations or word dumps...." Read more
"...The world building was top notch, with the reader’s knowledge of the empire, its planets, inhabitants (human and non-human), technology, history,..." Read more
"...Awesome Roman Empire influences in space with one melodramatic, erudite main character (who knows he's being melodramatic) whose knowledge of many..." Read more
Customers enjoy the well-developed and relatable characters. They find them interesting, with personalities even down to the minor characters. The lead character is likable and down-to-earth.
"...Volka is such an extraordinary character, once she came in, I knew I was going to like her...." Read more
"...I did enjoy the characters that Hadrian met; I thought they were all interesting, allowed for Hadrian to do some soul searching, and moved the story..." Read more
"...The prose is stellar (pun intended) and introspective, the characters well developed and relateable, and the plot will leave you white knuckles by..." Read more
"...contact, secret places revealed, coliseum gladiator scenes, character origin story, world development, culture, and system established in just one..." Read more
Customers enjoy the sci-fi content of the book. They find it engaging with its space opera setting, high stakes, and complex commentary on a fictional spacefaring empire. The book is described as an interesting start to a fantastic series that gives subtle nods to classic science fiction and historical texts.
"...Instead, it incorporated it into the story, and it grew throughout the story. And what a world it is!..." Read more
"...I especially liked the blending of sci-fi with fantasy and the use of the Roman Empire as a basis for some of the political/military structure...." Read more
"...Definitely pulls from all the great space operas and science fantasy out there as well as from ancient earth history...." Read more
"...and an enough of a philosopher to be challenging and rewarding for an old scifi guy like me, but also jarringly boring at times, heavy handed in..." Read more
Customers enjoy the engaging plot and writing style. They find the narrative compelling and absorbing, with dramatic and heartfelt scenes. The story has an intriguing future history that is teasingly revealed. Readers appreciate the thought-provoking mysteries and extraordinary characters.
"...sold the story, from high adrenaline intense scenes to the more dramatic heartfelt scenes, everything felt like a top notch performance...." Read more
"...She is fascinating. Smart, principled, mysterious, funny, and witty. The book picked up for me once she came into the story...." Read more
"...The prose is stellar (pun intended) and introspective, the characters well developed and relateable, and the plot will leave you white knuckles by..." Read more
"...and rewarding for an old scifi guy like me, but also jarringly boring at times, heavy handed in characterization and guilty of the 13th abomination..." Read more
Customers enjoy the book's journey. They find the characters relatable and well-developed, with a nice balance of straightforward and poetic prose. The story manages to blend genres in an enjoyable way, with a well-crafted narrative that allows readers to see the character grow and adapt.
"...clumsy, the novel’s overall prose was a lovely balance between straight forward/direct and poetic – with the poetic passages being (mostly) limited..." Read more
"This novel was a great entry into what I expect to be an incredible journey...." Read more
"Just an incredible ride from the start, I can’t wait to continue this series." Read more
"...Just get the series and enjoy the journey. I am just impatiently waiting for the next book in the series." Read more
Customers have different views on the pacing. Some find it unhurried and enjoyable, with a familiar flow. Others feel the story drags through the end, lacking drive and excitement.
"...But again, there is not much action. Overall, I give Empire of Silence 3.5 stars...." Read more
"...to the more dramatic heartfelt scenes, everything felt like a top notch performance...." Read more
"...While the pacing was a bit slow, the story was never dull...." Read more
"...It has a familiar shape and a familiar flow. But the story itself is wholly its own as much as any story can be. And what a story this is!..." Read more
Customers have different views on the book's length. Some find it expansive and epic, with a large scope. Others feel it's too long and wordy.
"...The world the author creates is awesome and vast...." Read more
"...This book is LONG, and the narrative is on a very slow burn...." Read more
"An epic space opera on a massive scale! Incredible world building, politics, religion, and side characters...." Read more
"...The result is an overlong book that gives away the results of future conflicts in subsequent books, so why do I need to read them?" Read more
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- Reviewed in the United States on May 20, 2024Ok, so wow… this was pretty spectacular, the only reason I’m not giving this a full 5 stars is that, for a story that is already a bit on the slower side, there were a few times that felt very sluggish and I was ready to move on. With that being said, I think that’s about the only bad thing I can say about this incredible debut by Ruocchio. Empire of Silence was pitched as “Dune meets Name of the Wind.” I can definitely see where each of those are coming into play, and it’s clear that Dune was an inspiration for this, but fellow book reviewer and Texan, Mike’s Book Reviews had this to say, “Imagine if Patrick Rothfuss wrote Red Rising: Darrow starts off as a Gold, Nero is his father, and Cassius is his brother”, and that’s the exact feeling I got with this book. I had been planning to read this for 2-3 years but never got to it, that tag line made me push it up more than the publisher did.
So when it comes to the inspiration of Dune and even comps of Red Rising, and even a small bit of Star Wars, Empire of Silence is a dark Space Opera, filled with mystery & adventure. Breathtaking scenes and even an emotional scene or two. The Name of the Wind and Patrick Rothfuss comparisons is due to the framed story telling of Hadrian, who is telling his story. This isn’t something Rothfuss created, but he is one of the most recent and very popular authors to do it. When done right, it’s incredible, and Ruocchio hammers it home with this style with an unforgettable read.
“We live in stories, and in stories, we are subject to phenomena beyond the mechanisms of space and time. Fear and love, death and wrath and wisdom—these are as much parts of our universe as light and gravity.”
Another Red Rising comp is because the world is very Greek/Roman-esk, which is always going to be a selling point for me. The world is built in a way that feels like “what if Rome never fell, but also stayed the same with its hierarchy style, coliseums and gladiatorial battles, but with the exception of advancing technologically. On top of that, Ruocchio went a step further and added multiple languages that are spoken (and translated), made the depth of this story even greater. The other thing that makes this so intriguing is the biggest mystery of the story, which is who are the first ones. The moment this came up, I immediately started thinking of the Anunnaki of ancient Summaria, and how they could possibly be based off of them. Giorgio Tsoukalos & Ancient Aliens fans will recognize that name.
I really like characters that seem to have an inspiration, purposeful or not, of Sisyphus, who was punished to push a boulder up hill only to have to start all over when he reached the top, and to me, that’s exactly who Hadrian is. He’s also a lot like Red Rising’s, Darrow in that same vein, since both are deeply flawed in their thinking of trying to do the right thing, and never end up doing it the best way, causing more issues along the way. Hadrian’s story is one of tenacity and over coming obstacles that he ends up putting in his own way, but he meets some great people along the way. Volka is such an extraordinary character, once she came in, I knew I was going to like her. Ruocchio did such a good job of making her a bit of a scene thief, because every time she was there, even when not speaking, you could feel her presence.
The writing is also so beautiful, over and over again, I was taken aback by his prose and the attention to detail. The amount of quotes I wrote down and saved just because they were so beautiful could probably fill up a short story, just truly astounding. I can’t finish this review without commenting on the incredible narration by Samuel Roukin. This was truly phenomenal, and I’m not sure how this guy isn’t on more radars as a favorite. He completely sold the story, from high adrenaline intense scenes to the more dramatic heartfelt scenes, everything felt like a top notch performance. I think I would’ve enjoyed this without his narration, but with it, I know I enjoyed it even more.
- Reviewed in the United States on December 17, 2024I will admit that I had high expectations of this book. It has a lot of praise online, and many have compared it to the Red Rising books. This is not Red Rising. It is The Name of the Wind.
The best part of this book is Christopher Ruoccio's prose. It is beautifully written with vivid descriptions and creative choice of words. It challenged my vocabulary, but that is something that I enjoy. I was pulling up words to get definitions more often than I have in a while.
The next thing I enjoyed was the world building. It was done without huge explanations or word dumps. Instead, it incorporated it into the story, and it grew throughout the story. And what a world it is! A feudal, galaxy-wide human civilization; a centuries long war with an alien civilization that is a mystery; a religious, propaganda branch of society that keeps society in line through fear; and an ancient civilization that left gigantic monolithic structures throughout the galaxy. This universe has mysteries galore.
This leads to my biggest issue. The book is pretty boring. Our main character is not brave or cowardly, smart or dumb, good or bad, gallant or crass. He's just kind of bland. I can see hints of a great character but no development. The only character to stand out to me was Dr. Valka Onderra. She is fascinating. Smart, principled, mysterious, funny, and witty. The book picked up for me once she came into the story. I will say that I didn't like the first 400 pages of this book.
Thankfully, the last 300 pages were better. We get our best evolution of the overall story. The best political plays. The best dialog and an overarching mystery that could have monumental consequence on humanity. But again, there is not much action.
Overall, I give Empire of Silence 3.5 stars. I will give book 2 a chance, but I hope to see more actually happening. It's a beautifully written story in a fascinating universe. However, I am expecting character development out of the main character, a bit more action, and hopefully, some philosophical undertones that have me thinking about them after I've finished the book.
Top reviews from other countries
- SERGIO HERNANDEZReviewed in Mexico on October 20, 2024
5.0 out of 5 stars Superb Start to an Amazing Sci-fi Series
I loved this book. The story is very engaging, the world Ruocchio has created is amazing, and it has such a great cast of characters (especially the main one). I also loved the philosophical ideas and concepts which are explored in it.
It leaves you wanting more, and I can’t wait to read the next books in this series. Highly recommended!
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Guilherme EliasReviewed in Brazil on March 19, 2024
5.0 out of 5 stars vale o hype!
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Guilherme Elias
Reviewed in Brazil on March 19, 2024
Images in this review - Kari DeshaiesReviewed in Canada on February 25, 2022
5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing first entry in a series
I enjoyed the world building done by Christopher in this book. He blends beautifully sci-fi, fantasy and mythology themes. If you are an fan of any of these genres this book is a must read for you. Also, the hook in the prologue is one of the best I have read and I was engaged for the entire book. I enjoyed following the life of Hadrian Marlowe!
- Rhys BrindleyReviewed in the United Kingdom on January 3, 2025
5.0 out of 5 stars superbly detailed
Beautifully written world building, took me deep into the authors imagination. Brilliant book, I am looking forward to reading the next in the series
- T. RoseReviewed in Germany on July 19, 2024
5.0 out of 5 stars Dramatic beginning to great series
Complex and fascinating look at how humans live in a distant future. Very original storyline which I thoroughly enjoyed.