I'm re-reading the Horus Heresy, and this is my review of the fifth book in the series, Fulgrim by Graham McNeill. There are spoilers in this review.
The fifth book in the Horus Heresy continues to escalate the tension while simultaneously re-telling, like Flight of the Eisenstein did, events we've already seen. So far, both books strike a fascinating balance and manage to make the story interesting even though we've already read one side of the story. In this one, we witness Fulgrim's side of his failure to recruit Ferrus Manus for Horus's rebellion.
We already know Fulgrim will fail, because we've seen him report about his failure to Horus in a previous book. Yet even with the foreknowledge of how it's going to turn out, you're likely to find yourself thinking it's going to succeed as you read this book. This book makes you feel how close Ferrus Manus and Fulgrim are as brothers. Fulgrim will end surely end up persuading Ferrus Manus. But no, just as the other book demonstrated, Ferrus Manus refuses to betray the Emperor, and in fact feels so slighted by his brother that he vows to take vengeance on Fulgrim for the slight.
One reason, I think, the stories of the Heresy work so well is because events don't just happen once and then end. Even when you already know an event happened "historically", you don't know exactly how it happened, or what ramifications it had on the Legiones Astartes, or what other event it caused that wasn't recorded in history.
The other reason Heresy stories work is the matter of perspective. I enjoy experiencing the same event twice but from different perspectives. It's a storytelling gimmick I've always enjoyed, whether it's re-playing a game or watching one of those movies that show key sequences from several different unreliable narrators. The Horus Heresy books do that sometimes, and while it doesn't change anything narratively or necessarily bring anything new to light, it can nevertheless be enlightening. There's a throwaway sentence in Chapter 2, written from the perspective of someone in the audience of a war council:
Two of the legion's greatest warriors, Lord Commander Vespasian and Lord Commander Eidolon, came in behind the Primarch.
"Two of the legion's greatest warriors" embodies the usual awe for Astartes, and it's appropriate to the scene. But if you've been reading the books up to this point, then you might think twice about that praise being applied to Lord Eidolon. By now, we readers know Eidolon. He may or may not be an effective warrior, but he's not "great" in any sense. He's petty, vindictive, arrogant, and selfish. And yet, from the perspective of this book, that description makes sense.
The ideal of "perfection" is belaboured in this book, arguably more than necessary but certainly to the extent that by the end of the book you know and understand Fulgrim's obsession. It's meant to explain Fulgrim's motives, I think, for embracing Chaos. Personally, I'm not sure I buy it. To me, it seems like Chaos is one great big deception. It's a trap lying in wait to spring on anybody nearby. Neither Horus or Fulgrim come across as men who were willful, even if misguided, in embracing Chaos. Horus got stabbed with a corrupted blade, and Fulgrim picked up a cursed sword. I guess you can argue that both men then had the opportunity to refuse. Horus could have chosen death, and Fulgrim could have chosen not to pick up the sword. But mostly it seems like Chaos sort of got handed to them.
Then again, Nathaniel Garro heard a voice of Chaos and managed to resist its lure. So maybe he's the counterpoint. He's no Primarch, and I imagine a Primarch is a greater prize for Chaos than a rank and file soldier like Garro, but maybe resisting the call of Chaos is virtue enough to act as a counterpoint in this comparison.
I think of Horus and Fulgrim crossing over into Chaos as a "bad" thing because the Warhammer 40,000 presents it that way. Horus's legions are "traitors" and the daemons they consort with are murderous. But Warhammer 40,000 isn't Star Wars with a Dark Side and a Not-Dark Side. In this setting, there's Egotism and Oppression. You can live your own life to the detriment of others, or you can submit to some external authority. There's no middle ground (well, there are rogue traders but they don't come up often, and even when they do you can argue they're just another component of the opressive regime).
At the end of this book, interestingly, Fulgrim regrets his decision to not actively resist Chaos. He ends up possessed by a Chaos daemon, with the Fulgrim consciousness banished to a place deep within his own body. The optimist part of my brain can't help but wonder whether Fulgrim could theoretically defeat the daemon from within, returning in triumph to the Imperium.
I've heard that the Horus Heresy series was probably not planned as a whole subgenre of Warhammer novels, and I have to admit the last two books do seem to suggest that the final confrontation is imminent. If I didn't know there were 50+ books to go, plus a sub-series about the final battle, I would think the very next book was to take place on or around Terra. It's a little jarring, and with so many Warhammer novels out there wanting to be read, I'm tempted to skip the middle of the series. The next book, The Descent of Angels, deviates from the main storyline by going way back in time to the discovery of Lion El'Jonson on Caliban. I enjoyed it when I first read it, but I may take it as a prompt to skip to the end.
Whatever I decide to do, having read the first five books in the series has reminded me of how engaging the Horus Heresy is, and why. Warhammer's most iconic character type is the Space Marine, and this is a series all about the Space Marines. You get them at their best, you get them at their worst. The authors don't betray the setting, there are no big fumbles like what we've experienced ever since the first prequel in Star Wars. This is true to Warhammer, and it expands the setting, the gaming opportunities, and it enriches the lore.
All images in this post copyright Games Workshop.