Simon R. Green’s Deathstalker is the first in a lengthy series of very thick space operas, and it’s the first of his books I’ve read after his Eddie Drood that really succeeds on its own terms–which, admittedly, are improbable, highly-colored, action-packed, and loaded with mayhem.

Owen Deathstalker is the lord of the House of Deathstalker, one of the oldest houses in the galactic Empire.  The Deathstalkers have traditionally been great warriors, and Owen has been competently trained; but after his father’s death as the result of endless intrigues, Owen hunkers down in his Standing on Virimonde and studies history in between dallying with his concubine.  And then Empress Lionstone XIV declares him an outlaw, for no particular reason that’s ever explained, and every man’s hand is turned against him.  And every woman’s: the book opens with his concubine’s attempt to kill him and claim the bounty.

The book is full of all manner of things, including alien killing machines, gladiators, a plethora of engineered soldiers of various types, love, hate, betrayal, and a device that can blot out a thousand suns…and possibly bring them back.  There are lost cities, warriors lost in time, clones, espers, elves (the members of ELF, the Esper Liberation Front).  And there are a variety of surprisingly complex characters given the genre.  Green’s not Bujold, by any stretch (but who is?) and he doesn’t have the delightful goofiness of Brian Daley’s Hobart Floyt and Alacrity FitzHugh books, but Deathstalker is a lot of fun, and I’ve already picked up the next two books in the series.

A side note; those who don’t share my interest in religion can skip it.

I begin to think that Green is not only a Christian, but possibly a Roman Catholic as well.  Religion appears in this book only twice.  First, a wedding between two Great Houses is presided over by the Vicar of the Church of Christ the Warrior.  The Empress favors this Church, which has thereby become something like the official church of the Empire; and let me just say, it gives a new stridency to the term Church Militant.  It is described in terms which make it appear to be a descendant of the Roman Catholic Church we know, but the Vicar is anything but the Servant of the Servants of God.  Not a sexual predator, as clergy too often are in F&SF these days, but proud, haughty, ruthless, violent when crossed, and utterly lacking in any kind of charity.  I thought, “Humph.  Another bit of anti-Catholicism.  Oh, well.”  And yet, there’s that phrase, “Christ the Warrior”.  This is clearly a new thing.  And then, some time later, a man appears as a representative of the Church of Christ the Redeemer, and is instantly martyred. 

The thing is, neither of these characters are really essential to the plot.  Leaving them out would have shortened the book by maybe four or five pages, if that; and it’s a 523-page book. The Vicar is a character in an important scene, at least; the martyr could have been left out and not missed.  My conjecture is that by putting him in, Green’s attempting to play fair, to say, “Yes, I know the Church of Christ the Warrior has made a mockery of Christ’s teaching.”  Dunno.  I’d ask him, but the only address I can find is a snail-mail address in England.