The first book in Dan Abnett’s second Inquisition trilogy, Ravenor is another stone-cold Black Library classic, a smart and hugely enjoyable story in its own right but also a neat continuation of characters familiar to anyone who’s read the Eisenhorn trilogy. Set some time after his reappearance towards the end of Hereticus, it sees Gideon Ravenor – now a full inquisitor in his own right – and his entourage on Eustis Majoris, investigating the illicit trade of a strange narcotic. As they unravel the mystery of what this drug is and where it comes from, the scale of what’s really happening is revealed to be bigger than they could have possibly expected.
While it’s not necessary to have read the Eisenhorn books before tackling this, having an awareness of Ravenor’s history – as well as the backstories of Kara Swole and Harlon Nayl – undoubtedly adds a little familiarity to proceedings. This isn’t just more of the same, however, but rather a clever segue from the focused, single-character narrative of the Eisenhorn trilogy into something still familiar, but different enough to stand on its own. For a start, it’s much more of an ensemble story, with multiple viewpoint characters drawn from Ravenor’s entourage as well as the inquisitor himself. While Ravenor’s viewpoint scenes are written in first person, much like Eisenhorn’s viewpoint, when it focuses on members of his entourage it sticks to third person, which allows Abnett to nicely vary the tone of voice and keep characters’ motivations a little more secretive.
Between that stylistic choice and the fact that Ravenor’s tone of voice is a little more serious, a little colder than Eisenhorn’s, this feels fresh and engaging, despite the familiar type of narrative. The realities of life for Ravenor – confined to his chair, forced to live vicariously through his friends and associates – naturally dictate the style of the book, as for the most part he delegates responsibility to members of his team, helping and communicating with them psychically. That leads to multiple simultaneous strands, which help keep the pace brisk and exciting, and some fantastic set-pieces that allow Abnett to really showcase Ravenor’s unique qualities and the ways in which his companions view him. For all the entertaining, inventive action scenes – and there are plenty of them – this is ultimately a character-focused story, and there’s a lot to enjoy in exploring Ravenor’s mindset, what his physical infirmity means to him, and how characters like Swole and Nayl work and think.
While comparisons with the Eisenhorn trilogy are inevitable, and justifiable, it’s worth emphasising that this is unquestionably a great novel in its own right. As you might expect from Abnett it’s packed full of cleverly-observed detail of the way characters interact and the everyday realities of life in the Imperium, but it’s also a grand, sweeping story that steps out from the street-level and races off into the unknown. If you’re already familiar with Abnett’s Inquisition stories then it’s going to feel instantly familiar, but if not it’s going to provide an effective grounding in the sort of ‘domestic 40k’ that he writes so well. As the opening act of a trilogy, it does a great job of introducing characters and plot points that will pay off down the line, and while you could read this and stop there, it’s hard to see many people wanting to. After this, chances are you’ll be rushing out to pick up Ravenor Returned, or some of the accompanying short stories!
Check out how this fits into the wider Eisenhorn/Ravenor/Bequin arc.
