Search the Community

This topic is about The Eye of Ezekiel, but strictly speaking it's not limited to it. I want to talk about this novel, but also what it means where Black Library writing is concerned. I like to think I'm objective in the criticism or praise I offer to the various authors and novels that feature in Black Library. I don't forget that writing fiction is very difficult venture, and doing so for a living is even harder. I don't believe that I come as knowing better. With that in mind, I try to avoid verdicts like, "this story is bad," or, "this author is poor." I know what I like, but I also recognize that everyone has their own cup of tea, if you will. With all that having been said, I think this verdict is harsh but fair: The Eye of Ezekiel is lazy. It feels less like an original story and more like running a bunch of names through a Warhammer 40k Siege Story checklist. It demands that its reader just go along with the ride and never question the numerous inconsistencies that pop up throughout. The author's need to advance the plot trumps the story being consistent or believable (within the context of the setting, of course). Character growth is minimal. I've seen some readers defend similar, earlier entries in the Space Marine Battles series. "They're aimed at a specific audience," I'm told. "They're a specific genre and we shouldn't ask for them to be something they're not." Again, I accept that different folks have different tastes, but this nonetheless feels like kind of a cop-out. I don't see the point in apologizing for what feels like playing it safe and recycling tropes. Space Marine Battles novels and a deep plot with nuanced characters are not mutually exclusive concepts. I can think of no better example of what a SBM entry can be than Helsreach. The wonderful thing about that novel is that the war for Armageddon - itself one of the most prominent conflicts of the setting - simply serves as the backdrop for the actual story, which is about exploring who Grimaldus is. The truly frustrating thing about The Eye of Ezekiel is that it's clear C.Z. Dunn was capable of coming up with a far more interesting story. The loss of Ezekiel's precognitive powers, the manner in which they were taken, and the struggle to cope with their absence in the midst of war make for a much deeper proposition than what we got. The bionic artifact Ezekiel inherits - and, more specifically, the way it seems to... attach itself to individuals with certain abilities - is likewise not something we often see in this genre. Ultimately, these hooks (and others besides) took a back seat to a mailed-in, by-the-numbers conflict that we've seen play out in dozens other Black Library novels, featuring the same bland stereotypes. The Eye of Ezekiel, as most know, is about the eponymous Librarian and the battle he and the Dark Angels Fifth Company wage on the planet Honoria against a greenskin invasion. They are compelled to do so by Arch Magos Diezen, who has called upon an ancient treaty between their Chapter and the Adeptus Mechanicus. SPOILERS FOLLOW! Much of the novel takes place within or around Aurelianum, the capital of Honoria. Dunn makes an attempt at distinguishing this bastion of mankind from other places in the Warhammer 40k universe, but in practice it is no different than most every other fortress shown in most every other story about most every other siege fought in this universe. Honoria is a planet that has been cut off from the Imperium for ten millennia. It's human inhabitants have been preparing for war for all that time. In the process, the Honorians raised fortresses of incredible scale. Eighty percent of the planet is covered by fortresses like Aurelianum, making Honoria's surface a sort of cityscape geared around war and the industry needed to sustain it. Nary a word is "wasted" in showing exactly how dystopian, militaristic, and outright bizarre a society would be after preparing for a war that didn't come for ten thousand years, though. We are not introduced to a single Honorian, and are never given an idea of how they think. As is the case with every other Honorian city-fortress, Aurelianum can only be approached by trench systems that extend for kilometers beyond gates that are topped by weapons arrays that can be (actual quote from the novel) "whatever they need to be." That's not an exaggeration; in their introduction sequence, these weapon arrays seamlessly transition from blasting a large asteroid entering the planet's atmosphere to striking a company-size Ork element on the planet's surface, kilometers away. These weapons arrays, incidentally, are why Diezen brought the Dark Angels to Honoria. He could not care less about the human inhabitants; the weapons that protect their cities are of a type unknown to the rest of the Impeirum, and the Arch-Magos is desperate to save them from destruction. None of the above matters, though. All the artifices of man that are meant to make Honoria distinct end up being nothing more than a MacGuffin. The fortresses of Honoria might cover 80-something percent of the planet's surface, but all of the Orks conveniently manage to land outside the walls. The height of the walls doesn't matter, because the Orks simply use giant bulldozers to pile their dead high enough to climb over them. The magic automated tower weapon arrays don't matter, because when Groblinik decides to drive a captured Land Raider up to one of the gates as an improvised battering ram, the author demands they don't do anything about it. I mean, forget high action; more than anything else, this is what that particular scene brought to mind: Making matters worse, the narrative of the battle is confusing and/or contradicts itself at several key points. A particularly glaring instance of this coincides with one of the major turning points in the campaign. Despite suffering the loss of Master Zadakiel and Interrogator-Chaplain Puriel in the initial battle, the Dark Angels are able to repel the Orks from the mighty walls of Aurelianum without significant casualties. Groblinik's subsequent willingness to sacrifice countless numbers of his Orks doesn't surprise the Dark Angels, but they are nonetheless unable to ascertain his actual plan. It is only after it is reported - almost as an afterthought - that one of the city's fortress-gates isn't responding that the Dark Angels notice - by sense of smell - that the Forge associated with that sector of Aurelianum has been restarted. When the Dark Angels send a strike force to investigate, they discover that tens of thousands of Orks somehow infiltrated the capital, managed to gain access to one of its Forges, and started up production without anyone so much as sounding an alarm. By the time the Dark Angels respond, the Orks have produced an army's worth of giant bulldozers. Their purpose? To stack the countless bodies of Orks outside the walls of Aurelianum, so that the rest of their horde can use them as massive ramparts with which to climb over. No mention is ever made how these Orks infiltrated Aurelianum to begin with. No mention is ever made as to why the Orks didn't simply attack en masse through the compromised gate, either. Point of fact, no mention is ever made as to what happened with that gate to begin with! That shouldn't come as a surprise, though, because this is well after Groblinik already used a Land Raider to batter down another gate, remember? What happened to THAT gate? How did the Dark Angels and the Astra Militarum contain that breach? Who knows? But that's the thing about The Eye of Ezekiel and other books like it. Forget about nuanced storylines that challenge how you view this universe or the characters that inhabit it. This story doesn't even bother with explaining how or why things are happening. What passes for the big challenge to our protagonists is Orks bulldozing dead Orks into piles big enough to climb over 100-meter walls. It's considered thematically apropos for that faction, and that's all that matters. Whether the concept itself is absurd, or the steps taken to set up up sensical, is irrelevant. When it's not focused on the battle for Aurelianum, the novel turns its attention to Captain Ladbon Antilov, a Vostroyan officer determined to rescue his lover Marita, and protect her from the Orkish invasion. It is an underwhelming story, at best, and is undermined by the fact that we can all guess Antilov's true purpose by the crude augmetic eye he wears and his own secret precognitive powers. Sadly, the characters that populate this story don't get much better treatment than the plot itself. Take Danatheum, for instance. Despite Ezekiel's incomprehensible might, Danathaeum holds the office of Chief Librarin by virtue of his experience. That, in and of itself, is just fine, but for whatever reason Dunn felt like he to really make their dynamic different, and thus has Danatheum inform us that he is "outstripped in power" by even the most recent recruit of the Dark Angels' Librarius. Thus, the second-most important position in the Chapter, if not the Unforgiven as a whole, is held by a warrior whose greatest asset is tenure. Mind you, it's not a case of Ezekiel being almighty but young and rash; he is around four hundred and fifty years old at this point. It would be one thing if Ezekiel had yet to prove trustworthy enough to the Inner Circle, but no such context or back story is given. In fact, Danatheum argues the contrary. 
Ezekiel himself becomes victim of the need to ham-fistedly push the Dark Angel theme of secrecy. He keeps secret the fact that he has lost his divination powers, despite the fact that we are constantly reminded how important they are to his Chapter and how they wage war. Turmiel, the Lexicanium whose powers Ezekiel uses as a crutch also feels comfortable keeping this secret, even though both of them know he's right less than half the time. The worst part of this is that Ezekiel's diminished state is only really used when he inevitably makes bad decision after bad decision. It never leads to any real conflict; not between him and the warriors who put faith in his abilities, nor internally (in the sense of him feeling guilt for the consequences of his choices). Where it all comes apart for both characters is the very end. Danatheum reveals he knew from the beginning that Ezekiel had lost his precognitive powers. He nonetheless sent him to Honoria, knowing full well that he would be a detriment and a danger to his fellow officers, none of whom knew what he was dealing with. 
Really, where Dunn does his best work is with the Vostroyan Firstborn. None of the squad he uses as a supporting cast is a particularly strong character, and most of them are little more than the one distinctive trait the author bestowed on them (one is Astartes-tall, another is an albino, another is a mute, and so on). Some very apropos concepts are introduced, however. For instance, there are of course Vostroyans in their regiments who aren't firstborn; regardless of the reason for their enlistment, though, they are seen as lesser. Arguably the character with the most potential other than Ezekiel himself is the Vostroyan Allix, Ladbon's second-in-command. Allix is also easily the most wasted character of them all. Allix appears to be nothing more than an aggressive Guardsman who enjoys Ladbon's confidence until we get nearly to the end of novel, at which point we find out that Allix is really a she. More to the point, Allix is a she who mutilated herself - or had herself mutilated, removing her breasts so that she could pose as a man. The reason for this? To protect her two older brothers (one mentally handicapped; the other "prone to fits") from the Vostroyan Tithe. It is arguably the most powerful reveal other than Ezekiel's, and made me wonder why an author capable of dropping that kind of bomb was wasting his time and mine with the banal, boring concepts that make up so much of the rest of the novel. 
Anyways, to the action itself. As you might expect from a Space Marine Battles novel, combat occupies a central place in the story. Like the setting, though, the fighting is more or less a collection of 40k-specific tropes. We see this from the moment the Dark Angels arrive at Honoria. No sooner does the Sword of Caliban translate to real space than things start getting questionable. The Imperial Navy is outnumbered ten to one, so Master Zadakiel orders them to withdraw lest they be annihilated. Unmolested, the Orks mass their fleet and proceed with the invasion of Honoria. Once the Orks make themselves busy with landing their forces, the Imperials counterattack and succeed in annihilating the xenos fleet - to the point where they run out of targets. Subsequently, nothing happens. The endless millions of Orks are stuck out in the open for days before they finally gain entry to Aurelianum, but none of the Imperial vessels make a move against them. Hold on to this for later. Soon after, Groblinik reveals himself to be a formidable, cunning, and surprisingly augmented warlord. I was left with mixed emotions by the way he dispatched both Master Zadakiel and Interrogator-Chaplain Puriel. On the one hand, the battle is written in a way where the characters' actions feel fluid and dynamic. On the other hand, the effectiveness of their attacks feels arbitrary. There were better ways, I think, of demonstrating Groblinik's overwhelming physicality than by him shrugging off a power fist to the face, especially when he then proceeds to tear apart power armour by hand. Making matters worse is that both Dark Angels ultimately lost their duel by underestimating Groblinik. Zadakiel can perhaps be forgiven; Puriel, who steps in to save the Company Master after watching the entirety of their duel, cannot. From there, we get a lot of passive accounts of the fighting on and around the walls of Honoria. In detailing them, Dunn commits a sin I find in too many Warhammer 40k novels. That is to say, that while technology is technically present, it is dumbed down and ineffective to the point where the battles are no different than what you'd see in, e.g., The Lord of the Rings movies. No matter how much Dunn tries to impress us with the unique and devastating defenses of Aurelianum, in practice it feels like you're reading about the battle for Minas Tirith - not a place with weapons capable of shooting down spaceships. 
Sadly, the combat action that held the most potential - the infiltration of the Forge captured by the Orks - is either handled rather lazily. Dunn tasks Techmarine Serpicus with letting us know that the Forge will be too loud for the Orks to hear bolter fire. It's a convenient excuse and removes the need to write something rich with tension. 
Still later, as the Orks use their newly-manufactured army of giant bulldozers to pile their dead into ramparts capable of reaching to the top of 100-meter walls, another reveal is somewhat lazily thrown at us. Honoria's defenses can track ships in orbit, but apparently neither they nor the returned Imperial fleet are aware that the Orks also landed a massive aerial force that inexplicably failed to attack earlier in the novel. Dunn employs this Orkish air force rather awkwardly. As is typical with Orks or Tyranids, this air force is conveniently numberless: there are enough to win. It's also conveniently vague: the author does not feel the need to dress it up with anything other than an impression of the entire sky being covered by aircraft. The Ork pilots eventually do destroy all the Honorian weapon arrays of the outer perimeter in "off-camera action," but the only one we see them taking out they do so by accident. That same air force is, of course, unable to take out the fewer weapon arrays of the inner ring of Aurelianum's fortifications. This reinforces another typical 40k trope: the author decides at what range war can be effectively fought, and both the minimums and maximums depend on what he needs done. Making matters worse, as the novel grinds on it feels as if Dunn is losing patience with his own story. In earlier sequences, there is a real effort in trying to show the danger a single Ork can pose to a squad of veteran Guardsmen. The story stays consistent on that count up until two thirds through, where the killing of this previously fearsome enemy starts becoming an afterthought. By the time we get to the end, the action is on auto-pilot: Marita, Honorian nurse and resident sniper, is dropping Orks left and right with her lasgun.
 Again, I don't know why any of this is. Dunn handles Groblinik's penultimate and ultimate duels with skill. Balthasar fights the Ork warlord the way Puriel probably should have - shrewdly and with respect for a foe who has revealed himself to be more than he seemed - and when he nonetheless loses it doesn't feel like author's fiat. When Ezekiel enters the fray for the final battle, Dunn truly captures how mighty the future Chief Librarian is. It's all too short, and feels kind of like an afterthought compared to the first duels, but you see Ezekiel's power on display in many different ways. Ironically, when the decisive battle is fought and won, the Dark Angels reach out to their fleet and order them to start bombarding the retreating Orks. Why was this not possible earlier? Simply put, because it doesn't serve the story. It's another instance of dismissing parts of the setting rather than trying to integrate them in the story. 
The Eye of Ezekiel ends with several interesting moments. Some, as is the case with most Dark Angels fiction, simply raise more questions. Are Ezekiel's powers his own now, for instance? Are they a product of the Eye, or something more sinister? Other moments make me wonder if there was a better tale that could have been told altogether. When the destiny of Marita's baby is revealed, it struck me that such a confluence of fates could have played a larger role throughout the book. There's no buildup to it, or any foreshadowing regarding the importance of the pregnancy. In the end, it feels like something special tacked on to something that wasn't. And, finally, it couldn't have been a Dark Angels novel without mention of one of the Fallen. For whatever reason, the treaty between Dark Angels and Mechanicum isn't reason enough to bring the Unforgiven to the defense of Honoria. Arch Magos Diezen also happens to have pict footage of a Fallen in action. He tries to use this evidence to have Techmarine Serpicus - who, unbeknownst to him, is the one Dark Angel officer there that doesn't know of the Fallen - to do his bidding. Of course, Diezen has decided to commit blackmail without any sort of failsafe plan, conveniently confessing to Serpicus that he has no other copy of that footage elsewhere right before the Techmarine executes him.
 I don't know what drives novels like The Eye of Ezekiel. I think the easy and obvious answer is that Black Library doesn't mind having a certain number of titles that are just mailed in. That's not to say that I don't think Dunn can write a good yarn. There are several times in The Eye of Ezekiel where he showed he is capable of writing something far better. The fact that so many of the more boring, contrived tropes he employed are also prevalent is so many other novels does lead me to believe, however, that the use of stock material, themes, and concepts is tolerated and perhaps even expected. This is problematic to me. I know the Warhammer 40k setting is based on a game. I know that much of said setting finds its origins in often absurd material. I know that much of the current material is itself absurd. I know that much of what is sold needs to take into account a young customer base just as much - if not more so - than an older one. Nonetheless, I don't believe that this is the setting's ceiling. I think it's unfortunate that we have less books like Helsreach or the Path of Heaven and more books that give rote service to the setting. I don't believe that a teenager would rather read about future space war rendered down to the lowest common denominator than complex characters and nuanced plot lines. The Eye of Ezekiel could have been something special, with ties to even more special things to come. Instead, I'm sad to say it feels only a little more memorable than the paragraph-sized Codex timeline entry it was based on.