This post will cover the following:
Introduction
Structure
The Missile's Arc
The Triangle
Mode: Mythopoeism
Theme
The Classics
Imperialism/Colonialism
Perennial Wisdom
Free Will
Tone: Grimdark or “Grimdark”?
Challenges
Technique
Permadeath
Structural Variability
The End & thee Conslusion
Bonus: Top 10
Introduction
Warhammer was an IP that put me off since childhood, through university, and into career and parenthood. I dubbed it 'elves in space' and considered it pulp fiction, not a meaningful bone its body. That was until early 2023. I stand by 'elves in space' for much of the content I encountered in the 90s, but that content was not Horus Rising by Dan Abnett (2006). Rather than a space take on epic fantasy, Abnett's novel possessed gray grit, action/drama with purpose, mythopoeic undercurrents, awareness what genre is and isn't, and a spot of understanding of the human soul—something even a lot of non-Warhammer space opera books don't have. It reminded me of Homer's Greece or Arthurian legend just as much as any pulpy military sf you can think of. Before digging deeper and investing (significant) time and money in the series, I asked myself questions. Is the Horus Heresy series just a symptom of the contemporary golden age of culture, i.e. churnalism? Or does it have substance with potential to transcend? Is Horus Rising a one-off, or are the other novels of the same caliber? Commodity or art? Pulp fiction or Literature? As this post makes clear, I ultimately fell down the rabbit hole, and the more books in the series I read, the clearer the answers became, hopefully to answer here.
For people unfamiliar, here is the quick and dirty. The Horus Heresy is a lengthy series of novels and anthologies that tell the tragic story of how, in the 30,000th century AD, mankind attempted to take over the universe, and failed. In fact a prequel to the wider Warhammer 40k universe of fiction, familiar readers already knew that mankind had failed, that we were fragmented across the galaxy and in conflict, and that the human Emperor was sitting, broken, on the throne. But those readers didn't know what lead to that state. Like Le Morte D'Arthur or The Iliad, the Horus Heresy describes how that heroic downfall occurred.
The series is centered around a group of eighteen primarchs, all of whom are demigods crafted in the mold of their gene-father, the Emperor. At birth, the Emperor scattered these sons to the four corners of the universe in order to build the societies, infrastructure, and armies he knew would be necessary for one day taking over the universe. Coming into adulthood, the eighteen fulfill their promise, building large armies of space marines that the Emperor coordinates into a massive crusade. But just as he is on the brink of victory, one primarch rebels, Horus, and the crusade descends into treachery and infighting. The Horus Heresy is how that rebellion started and its brutal conclusion.
The core Horus Heresy series is sixty-five books in length and each book (novel to anthology) is written by one of a group of ten or so authors. Space opera is the primary medium, but giving it structure and substance are a few key building blocks. In the coming paragraphs I will take a closer look at its elements, blaster porn to myth to existentialism, beginning with how the series is structured.
Structure: The Missile's Arc
I am a poetic reader. That does not mean that my brain prioritizes flowery language, rather that I perpetually attempt to map any story I'm reading onto some metaphor, some symbol or action that captures the essence of what's being read. Reading the first six or seven books of the Horus Heresy my brain kept flickering to an arrow—that the books and stories, when concatenated, were headed somewhere with a sharp point.
But about a dozen books later the image changed. My brain moved to a missile arcing through the stratosphere. Smoke and fire billowed from the back, propelling the projectile. These were the first books and stories which set the events of Horus' rebellion into motion. After this, the fuselage of the missile formed. This is the middle section of books in which the rebellion comes together—the mass that the smoke and fire are pushing. Guiding the mass are fins, secondary fuel containers, thrusters, and various accouterments—the novels and stories confluent to the main storyline, helping shape and guide it.
As I got toward the end of the series, the arcing missile metaphor solidified. The final dozen or so books became a warhead—the tip of a missile—headed to the climactic explosion that is the Siege of Terra. All factions and interests arriving at a singular point, the flames, concussive forces, promethean blasts, and psychic waves of the final eleven books in the series were the natural result of the missile, metaphorically and fictionally.
The missile is a poetic symbol for other reasons, as well. It is an engineered object. It doesn't exist by chance. And the same can be said of the Horus Heresy series. It too is engineered. Clearly the producers, creators, writers, editors, etc. routinely sat together and agreed on the overarching story, inflection points, who would write what, what seeds would be sown early to bear fruit later, and so on. To be clear, engineered does not equal scripted. The variety of author styles combined with freedom within individual books, as well as a group desire to create a proper epic prevent the series from being paint-by-number. Connect the dots; yes, in several cases, but not paint by number. The true testament of this is the fact the reader knows the exact point to which the series leads, a broken emperor sitting on a throne, yet they are still motivated to read, to find out how that scene came to be. It's the advanced planning of individual characters and scenes that make this interesting. I do think the earlier books of the series are generally more engaging than the latter for this fact, i.e. the more unknown material, but that does not prevent interest in learning exactly how the missile exploded.
Structure: The Triangle
The other innate structural element of the series which bears mention is that the Horus Heresy is not a dichotomy. It' isn't good vs evil, or black conquering white, or apples fighting oranges. It isn't just Horus' horde vs the Emperor's. There is a third element stirring the pot: Chaos. While not quite at a rock-paper-scissors level of balance, these three story elements nevertheless have roles that prevent the overarching narrative from descending into bilateral monotony. Where so many epic fantasy and space opera books neuter their potency by keeping things at a simple dichotomy, the Horus Heresy writers chose to make Chaos an integral part of the tale, and in turn have an element constantly at their disposal to make sure the characters and scenes don't get too routine or focused on one side or the other. Subsequently, the reader likewise never gets too comfortable or is able to predict precisely how novels or stories will pan out. And lastly, Chaos forms a critical part of the series' themes, which I will discuss later.
All in all, missile to triangle, the series is constructed with a purpose that remains intentional throughout, yet progresses in a fluid manner due to the freedom given each author to achieve the desired story points. Using George R.R. Martin's metaphors, its architecture at the macro level and gardening at the micro.
Mode: Mythopoeism
Before you think I'm getting too big for my pants by using words like mythopoeism, yes, there is a massive chunk of the Horus Heresy that is just blaster porn. Space marines stomping across exploding landscapes, blasting the shit out of everything and everybody. The series' creators know what butters their bread. Commercial viability is an innate part of the series' design, no denying it. But the fireworks are grounded. The action and character interaction also echo world mythology, including Greek, Arthurian, and Judeo-Christian, with the primarchs occupying the strongest mythic roles.
On one hand, the primarchs are Greek heroes in nature. One half are “loyal sons of Zeus” who support their father in his endeavours for power and control. The familial link they feel to him is palpable, and the powers they gain from him are fantastical, god-like. The other half of the primarchs rebel against their father. They believe him past his prime, ready for toppling through bloodshed (Ares anyone?), for a newer, younger, more powerful leader, and are willing to use the fantastical powers he provided against him. And indeed, Horus' killing his father is Oedipal in nature, a fact emphasized by the manner in which Abnett handles the absolute last moments between Horus and the Emperor in The End and the Death (aka Horus' deepest, more honest human feelings about killing his patriarch).
But its the way Homer presents heroism on both sides of a battle, as well as the ebb and flow of combat and graphic death in The Iliad, that offers the Horus Heresy its strongest Greek analog. Both he and the Horus Heresy writers give a myriad warriors names and describe their actions as heroic, regardless which side they fight for: Greece/Troy or Loyalists/Traitors. Credit is given a hero when he fells another, just as the details of the death—spear, sword, piecing, chopping, etc. Horus is a nice analog to Achilles (the best but flawed warrior), just as Sanguinius aligns with Hector (the purest warrior who meets a tragic end to Achilles). There are some bits which don't align, but overall there are a number of other parallels to The Iliad, particularly the battle by battle, person to person, wax and wane of combat.
In another mythic role, the primarchs likewise seem knights sitting around the round table of “King Arthur”. At the beginning of the series, they fight for the glory of their king, to be loyal unto death, and to die with honor in his name. But as the series moves on, discrepancies appear. The primarchs' allegiances begin to crack. This cracking exposes their inner humanity, loyal and traitor. At least most of them. There are a handful of primarchs which can never seem to escape the chains of cartoonism, but most have a shade or two of realism. They fight the good fight (from their perspective), but bear burdens and suffer in ways that we readers sometimes do—just as Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain, and the others had inner demons gnawing at their attempts for success and glory.
And there are a couple other nods to Arthurian legend, or at least the ideals heralded by Arthur. Most primarchs and space marines hold themselves to a code of honor, the taking of oaths, and keeping of tradition. Chaos throws a spanner into these works, but even among the traitors a form of honor still exists, Abaddon the prime exemplar. Secondly, the dialogue among the characters has a practical formality, of inherent respect, of honor for a fellow man even if you disagree with his values or purpose. There is a knowing which underlies all interaction, a knowing that we first treat civilly, swords later. And thirdly, as grimdark as the series may be, there is a definitive lack of swearing and cursing. The authors all write in their own style, but they certainly agreed on a few rules, including restraint when it comes to foul language. One could argue this is due to marketing, but an argument could equally be made it fits a certain code of conduct the legios astartes are expected to adhere to in pseudo-Arthurian tradition.
And finally, the third mythic hand, the biblical nature of the series. If Warhammer's Age of Sigmar setting is the Old Testament and the Emperor's rise to power the New Testament, then the Horus Heresy is the Book of Revelations: the Apocalypse. In rising to power, the Emperor is portrayed as a quasi-Jesus—a would-be savior of humanity, a being who wants to remove threats and create a universe where humanity can live in peace and prosperity. But his own people rise against him, killing him, just as demons spring from hell. The series' authors even take the metaphor so far as to crucify the Emperor in the climactic scenes. Granted, burning through thousands of souls per day to stay “alive” is not exactly the picture of Jesus' ascension to heaven after crucifixion. Yet, the Emperor sits on his throne in perpetuity at the conclusion of the Horus Heresy, minding the “spiritual” realms while mankind does what mankind does in the material world without him. A religion even springs up in the wake of the Heresy, the Emperor the godhead.
It is important to note, however, that
the Judeo-Christian symbolism ends with the portrayal of the Emperor.
There is no broader framework imbuing the text with specific values
or beliefs. Certainly some Judeo-Christian values leak through; the
authors are not immune to the culture they were raised in. But the
reader will not pick up any overt or subtle apologetics. In fact,
the series is, if anything, atheist in nature. Despite that people
come to worship him, the Emperor is not portrayed as a beatific,
perfect being, nor is humanity portrayed as beacons of purity in the
galaxy, a species leading other species to “the answer”. In
doing so, the series would seem to point out that religion is a human
construct rather than divine reality. The 40th millennium becomes
but a phase in humanity's existence for which Religion X took center
stage, and implies that millennium in the future Y will have it's
turn.
Instead of religious or divine themes, in fact, the
series focuses more on the metaphysical dichotomy of Order vs Chaos.
Which is a good place to switch to theme.
Theme: The Classics
A number of sub-narrative threads appear and re-appear in the Horus Heresy. As mentioned, it is architected at multiple levels. Inherent to the mythopoeic and epic-fantasy nature of the series, the concepts of: power, loyalty, honor, heroism, belief/faith, etc. routinely take center stage. These are classic themes, from Beowulf to Homer, and I will not dig deeper here as millions of Master's theses have already made them a dead horse. Let's acknowledge these form a huge chunk of the series' theme, and move on.
Theme: Imperialism/Colonialism
Another obvious theme is imperialism/colonialism. The Emperor is, after all, on a crusade to build the largest empire the galaxy has ever seen with humanity at the center. Comply or die. But it's 100% clear that the Horus Heresy authors are not secretly imperialists with an agenda. The series, in fact, would seem to rise above such narratives. For example, they cast the Emperor's crusade into the most serious doubt possible. Is domination at that scale even possible? the authors seem to ask. Does humanity's nature not inevitably interfere with such grand visions? Can benevolent intent override the individual's choice? The Pyrrhic victory at the series' climax would seem to answer those questions. I'm sure a raft of Masters theses could be written on colonialism.
But the series' broad view to time brings into the spotlight other, perhaps more interesting themes.
Theme: Perennial Wisdom
Rather than the glory or imperialism or heroism, what of the cycles of history to which imperialist/colonial movements are just a piece of? After all, the Horus Heresy is just the middle chunk of a chunkier narrative. The Age of Sigmar and Earth history come before, while after are Warhammer 40k and everything else post-Heresy. Throughout this are multiple rises and falls of power, waxes and waneings of humanity's influence on the galaxy. It's almost... Daoist.
For the unaware, Daoism is, like Buddhism, primarily a philosophy and only secondarily a religion. One of its main concepts is the cyclical nature of time. This concept can be interpreted a number of ways, for example the Chinese proverb: a nation united must unite, and a nation united must divide. Shit happens, but it happens in semi-repetitive-and-therefore-non-surprising fashion. There is a first time for everything, but only from the individual's perspective. Otherwise, father time has a monopoly on that score.
To put this into context, the Horus Heresy is perpetually aware it is just a piece of a broader tapestry. It is aware that humanity's successes ebb and flow. Unlike a linear view to ascendant power, peaks are just points on a line, as are the valleys. To my mind, this deeper incorporation of time drives home the spike of 'epic' in the series. The number of books would seem to give the series that label, but I would argue it's actually the authors' handling of time that makes it a proper epic.
Theme: Free Will
The final theme I will highlight here is fatalism vs non-determinism. Much of epic fantasy floats its boat in the waters of predestiny, ancient prophecies coming true, and an unstated lack of free will. The Horus Heresy, particularly in the Perpetuals sub-narrative, would seem to have a paddle or two in these waters. John Grammaticus and Ull Peterson march toward a future they think is inevitable. Characters like Erebrus and other Word Bearers likewise discuss the immutability of what is to come. But the story and its outcome prove different. John and Ull discover the future holds what they were expecting, but in a different light. More overtly, the destiny of Chaos fails to fulfill in replete fashion, leaving Horus, Erebrus and others looking for some Copium.
Long story short, the Horus Heresy does not draw a line in the sand of Free Will despite flirting with a stick. As in our world, the question is open. Much thought and debate is to be had on both sides, but it's difficult to say with 100% certainty where the truth lies—one of many fitting codas to the series.
Tone: Grimdark or “Grimdark”?
There is no
counting the number of scenes depicting graphic carnage and visceral
violence in the Horus Heresy. It can be argued the series revels in
it. Likewise, there are many scenes of injustice, of “bad guys”
doing “bad things”, evil defeating good, and
ill morals prevailing. And most importantly, there is zero
happily-ever-after in the Horus Heresy. Pyrrhic victory at
best, there are no objective winners in this galactic struggle. The
series ticks all the overt boxes to qualify as “grimdark”.
But
what makes the Horus Heresy truly grimdark, truly a step beyond
Tolkien-esque or C.S. Lewis-type idylls, is the framing of character
motivation, and the psychological portrayal of many main characters.
While most readers inevitably side with the Loyalists/Emperor, it's not without apprehension, nor is it without understanding, perhaps even sympathy, toward Horus and the traitors. When context is properly set, the average human can understand what leads an ordinary person to become a Nazi, for example, even if they disagree with fascism. The human psyche is malleable, and the Horus Heresy writers leverage this to ensure readers understand both sides' worldviews regardless of sympathies or allegiance. An argument can easily be made, in fact, characters like Conrad Kurze are some of the most empathetic in the series despite their darkness and malevolence. We understand Kurze, even if we could never bring ourselves to do the things he does, such is the grayness of his presentation.
To get an obvious point out of the way, yes, the forces of Chaos—demons—are ostensibly evil. Their presentation is inhuman, and their desire for killing and anarchy is not most people's definition of benevolence or wholesome society. (Care for a tea, Mr. Demon? Lemon with that? Biscuit, too?) But the forces of Chaos occupy two roles in the series: the literal and figurative. They are horned, slavering agents of evil making for entertaining, dramatic fiction, but they are also symbolic of those things unleashed inside humanity. Horus' rebellion does not 100% represent Horus. It is what he goes down in (fictional) history for, but good people can do bad things, something Abnett gives a glimpse to in the final volume. And I think it's precisely here that the Horus Heresy makes its strongest case for being grimdark. “Good people” can do bad things, just as “bad people” can be relatable.
Challenges: Technique
Time to temper the positivity with some of the series' persisting issues. There are small problems inherent to any book or story, but looking at the series as a whole and the issues that appear and reappear, there are three things that jump out.
First is writing technique. While most HH novels punch above their genre weight, there are many which contain overwritten battle scenes. Laden so heavy with description and quests for graphic minutiae, it can sometimes feel like a competition: who can dig deepest in their thesaurus to find the most colorful language of violence and pack it in the most dense quantity—chocolate chips on chocolate sauce on chocolate ice cream. Yes, I understand that without battle scenes you don't have Warhammer. But it's equally clear that cramming as many shooty-choppy words into a paragraph doesn't always translate into fiction congruent with the characters, dialogue, setting, etc. around it. When written in balanced fashion, these battle scenes can (and do) extract the visceral, brutal details that make Warhammer, Warhammer. And most authors do provide this. But when it's overdone, it's difficult reading.
Challenges: Permadeath
The second challenge is the meaning of death in HH, particularly the fact it often enough doesn't mean anything. Heads are cut off, hearts are carved out, and more than one character runs themselves through with a sword. Only to live again. I will not let the broken record spin further. Many online voices have shouted into the void about the importance of character permadeath. I will just say that I wish the HH authors had taken note. I fully accept that Chaos is in play, as are elements of the supernatural. I understand there may be one or two characters who experience... alternate fates to mortality. Fair enough. It's the quantity of almostdeath that jars. It's not every book. It's not every other book. But it's often enough that I became concerned the series producers were more concerned with keeping their future possibilities for fiction open than giving readers proper drama. Just imagine if HH readers moved through the books with the same apprehension as reading George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. Characters' fates properly on the line would have made for more engaging reading.
Challenge: Structure Variability
The third and final challenge I mention here is variability in novel structure, or more specifically, the lack thereof. The common formula is: open on a few scenes involving the characters key to the story ahead. Present a spot of action to let the reader know this is Warhammer!. Then slowly, steadily move through the body of the story to a grand, blaster-ific climax, a climax that is an important inflection point in the Horus Heresy arc. The ”slowly, steadily” part is key as it occupies the bulk of many of the novels. The practical result is ~400 pages to get to one, important scene—almost as if the book was written backwards from that scene. The cadre of HH writers gave Writer X his goal, and he shaped an uneventful series of scenes to reach that eventful scene.
A direct result of the HH books which possess this formula is the feeling of filler. Rather than sticking a tight, quality novella highlighting a particular event, instead, it sometimes appears more important that Writer X hit the ~400 page mark. This leads to fatigue of a certain kind. Readers start to feel they're in the middle of one of “those” books, and consider skipping ahead to get to the good scene.
On a positive note, another thing the formula leads to is appreciation. Books which do not follow the formula tend to stick out, to distinguish themselves. Take a novel like A Thousand Sons by Graham McNeill, for example. It contains three or four key inflection points. It feels weightier relative to many of the other novels. But even a “quieter” novel like Horus Rising by Dan Abnett still feels unique for the way in which it develops its character dynamics, its ebb and flow moving to different rhythms that prevent that formula from existing, or at least being obvious.
The End & the Conclusion
After chewing on the series for literally years, the point I come to is that the Horus Heresy is neither pulp nor literary fiction. The series' needle likely leans toward pulp, but it's not defining. The authors imbued the series with more than enough material between the lines to make the reading experience reflective. Yes, the Black Library's aims are generally commercial. People who want can escape into blasters and lasers and gore and lore galore. But there are things which linger after the last page is turned and can, should the reader so desire, be explored for substance and relevancy.
Bonus: Top 10
Everybody who reads the Horus Heresy (including The Siege of Terra) will have their Top 10. There are so many books in the series it's likely no two lists are the same, not to mention few books fall to either extreme on the bell curve of quality. It is extremely consistent across the series. Bearing this in mind, here is mine. Honorable mentions include: Legion by Dan Abnett, Shadows of Treachery ed. by Christian Dunn & Nick Kyme, Fulgrim by Graham McNeill, and The Unremembered Empire by Dan Abnett. In no specific order, the ten are:
Know No Fear by Dan Abnett
Horus Rising by Dan Abnett
A Thousand Sons by Graham McNeill
False Gods by Graham McNeill
Deathfire by Nick Kyme
The Master of Mankind by by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
The First Heretic by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
Mark of Calth (anthology by various)
Echoes of Eternity by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
The End & the Death by Dan Abnett
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