United States
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Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky)
From the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Resistance Reborn comes the "engrossing and vibrant" (Tochi Onyebuchi, author of Riot Baby) first book in the Between Earth and Sky trilogy inspired by the civilizations of the Pre-Columbian Americas and woven into a tale of celestial prophecies, political intrigue, and forbidden magic.
A god will return
When the earth and sky converge
Under the black sun
In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial even proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world.
Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man's mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.
Crafted with unforgettable characters, Rebecca Roanhorse has created a "brilliant world that shows the full panoply of human grace and depravity" (Ken Liu, award-winning author of The Grace of Kings). This epic adventure explores the decadence of power amidst the weight of history and the struggle of individuals swimming against the confines of society and their broken pasts in this "absolutely tremendous" (S.A. Chakraborty, nationally bestselling author of The City of Brass) and most original series debut of the decade.
A god will return
When the earth and sky converge
Under the black sun
In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial even proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world.
Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man's mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.
Crafted with unforgettable characters, Rebecca Roanhorse has created a "brilliant world that shows the full panoply of human grace and depravity" (Ken Liu, award-winning author of The Grace of Kings). This epic adventure explores the decadence of power amidst the weight of history and the struggle of individuals swimming against the confines of society and their broken pasts in this "absolutely tremendous" (S.A. Chakraborty, nationally bestselling author of The City of Brass) and most original series debut of the decade.
Readers Top Reviews
Pat WhitneyKatie
Once again, breathtaking world building and incredible characters. Rebecca Roanhorse writes engrossing and imaginative stories you don't want to end. So glad this is a series.
RavenousReaderPat
A story by this author is always going to be good I've found. This one does not disappoint. It follows the journeys of a man who is meant to be a god, a sailor woman who controls the sea and a priestess from the wrong family trying to change her world. The world is rich and beautiful, the people vibrant and the culture breathtakingly diverse. It is an amazingly good read and I cannot wait for more.
MarzieRavenousRea
The start of a new series by Astounding, Hugo, Locus, Nebula, Sturgeon, and World Fantasy Award-winning author Rebecca Roanhorse, Black Sun is the powerful beginning of the Between Earth and Sky series. Inspired by a pre-Colombian culture, released the day after Indigenous People's Day, this novel is so masterfully constructed that I'm tempted to compare Roanhorse to Nora Jemisin and George R. R. Martin. A tale of repression, opposition, revolution, of cruelty and love, Black Sun is a dark, epic fantasy that is at the top of my list for Hugo and Locus nominees for 2020. Giving us the stories of Xiala, a Teek boat captain possessed of magic, a mysterious blind man named Serapio that she is transporting to the city of Tova, Lord Okoa, a young man who is brother to the new head of the Carrion Crow clan, and a Sun priest named Narapa, we see the culmination of a celestial prophecy of the Sky Made clans that centers on a remarkable day, the Day of Convergence, a legendary lunar eclipse that coincides with the winter solstice. Described as an unbalancing of the world, one of these characters will unleash a cataclysmic event on the Day of Convergence. Roanhorse has given us a fascinating world with distinct cultures, deeply enmeshed prejudices, gentle figures who wish to swim against the currents of clan enmity, rebels who foresee a revolution, and the gruesome creation of avatars. The complex relationship between Xiala and Serapio, poignant and incredibly sensuous, is one of the most memorable aspects of this book. Serapio's disability was handled so masterfully in this novel. Indigenous two-spirit persons are also woven into the Tovan culture in a wonderful way, as is fluid sexuality. All in all this novel is just so rich. I want to start reading and listening to it all over again, a sure sign of how much I loved it. The audiobook, narrated by Cara Gee, Nicole Lewis, Kaipo Schwab and Shaun Taylor-Corbett took a little bit of time to get used to (each voice actor narrates one of the principal characters) but is a very fine production. I received a digital audio and ebook copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
MarzieRavenous
This book is literally everything I could ask for in a high fantasy book, and I literally never wanted it to end. This is a book that deserves to be savored! I am waiting with complete anticipation (and patience) for the rest of the trilogy because holy moly was this an adventure. I haven't felt this excited about a book series since I was a teenager. The world Roanhorse crafted is unique with gorgeous characters you'll love if you give yourself the chance.
Margaret A. Davis
Who says that it has to be based on a European model in order to be epic fantasy? Black Sun is on an epic scale and this fantasy is based on Pre-Columbian America! (That is, the Maya and Aztec before the white people from Europe showed up.) I like that Ms. Roanhorse both took the expected literary license and also was able to pick and choose which Maya or Aztec customs/culture/etc. she wanted to incorporate. (Black Panther is similarly based loosely on African culture from many tribes across the African continent.) Plus, she has a bibliography at the back of the book. (You know that warms my heart, as a librarian!) I think that it is a good thing that in the last number of years we are starting to see more fantasy from cultures OTHER than European. And space opera. I really enjoy Aliette de Bodard's space opera based on Vietnamese culture featuring mind ships [yes, human brains operating massive deep space ships] and lately whodunits with the mind ship partnering with the detective! Recommended for fantasy fans who like exploring new cultures and mythologies!
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
THE OBREGI MOUNTAINS
YEAR 315 OF THE SUN
(10 YEARS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)
O Sun! You cast cruel shadow
Black char for flesh, the tint of feathers
Have you forsaken mercy?
-From Collected Lamentations from the Night of Knives
Today he would become a god. His mother had told him so.
"Drink this," she said, handing him a cup. The cup was long and thin and filled with a pale creamy liquid. When he sniffed it, he smelled the orange flowers that grew in looping tendrils outside his window, the ones with the honey centers. But he also smelled the earthy sweetness of the bell-shaped flowers she cultivated in her courtyard garden, the one he was never allowed to play in. And he knew there were things he could not smell in the drink, secret things, things that came from the bag his mother wore around her neck, that whitened the tips of her fingers and his own tongue.
"Drink it now, Serapio," she said, resting a hand briefly against his cheek. "It's better to drink it cold. And I've put more sweet in it this time, so you can keep it down better."
He flushed, embarrassed by her mention of his earlier vomiting. She had warned him to drink the morning's dose quickly, but he had been hesitant and sipped it instead, and he had heaved up some of the drink in a milky mess. He was determined to prove himself worthy this time, more than just a timid boy.
He grasped the cup between shaking hands, and under his mother's watchful gaze, he brought it to his lips. The drink was bitter cold, and as she had promised, much sweeter than the morning's portion.
"All of it," she chided as his throat protested and he started to lower the cup. "Else it won't be enough to numb the pain."
He forced himself to swallow, tilting his head back to drain the vessel. His stomach protested, but he held it down. Ten seconds passed, and then another ten. He triumphantly handed the empty cup back.
"My brave little godlet," she said, her lips curling into a smile that made him feel blessed.
She set the cup on the nearby table next to the pile of cotton cords she would use later to tie him down. He glanced at the cords, and the bone needle and gut thread next to them. She would use that on him, too.
Sweat dampened his hairline, slicking his dark curls to his head despite the chill that beset the room. He was brave, as brave as any twelve-year-old could be, but looking at the needle made him wish for the numbing poison to do its job as quickly as possible.
His mother caught his worry and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You make your ancestors proud, my son. Now… smile for me."
He did, baring his teeth. She picked up a small clay bowl and dipped a finger in. It came out red. She motioned him closer. He leaned in so she could rub the dye across his teeth. It tasted like nothing, but part of his mind could not stop thinking about the insects he had watched his mother grind into the nut milk to make the dye. A single drop, like blood, fell on her lap. She frowned and scrubbed at it with the meat of her palm.
She was wearing a simple black sheath that bared her strong brown arms, the hem long enough to brush the stone floor at their feet. Her waist-length black hair spilled loose down her back. Around her neck, a collar of crow feathers the shade of midnight, tips dyed as red as the paint on his teeth.
"Your father thought he could forbid me to wear this," she said calmly enough, but the boy could hear the thread of pain in her voice, the places where deprivation and sorrow had left their cracks. "But your father doesn't understand that this is the way of my ancestors, and their ancestors before them. He cannot stop a Carrion Crow woman from dressing to honor the crow god, particularly on a day as sacred as today."
"He's afraid of it," the boy said, the words coming without thought. It must be the poison loosening his tongue. He would never have dared such words otherwise.
His mother blinked, obviously surprised by his insight, and then she shrugged.
"Perhaps," she agreed. "The Obregi fear many things they do not understand. Now, hold still until I'm done."
She worked quickly, coloring his teeth a deep carmine until it looked like blood filled his mouth. She smiled. Her teeth were the same. Father was right to fear her like this, the boy thought. She looked fierce, powerful. The handmaiden of a god.
"How does your back feel?" she asked as she returned the bowl of dye to the table.
"Fine," he lied. She had carved the haahan on his back earlier that day at dawn. Woken him from bed, fed him his first cup of numbing poison, and tol...
THE OBREGI MOUNTAINS
YEAR 315 OF THE SUN
(10 YEARS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)
O Sun! You cast cruel shadow
Black char for flesh, the tint of feathers
Have you forsaken mercy?
-From Collected Lamentations from the Night of Knives
Today he would become a god. His mother had told him so.
"Drink this," she said, handing him a cup. The cup was long and thin and filled with a pale creamy liquid. When he sniffed it, he smelled the orange flowers that grew in looping tendrils outside his window, the ones with the honey centers. But he also smelled the earthy sweetness of the bell-shaped flowers she cultivated in her courtyard garden, the one he was never allowed to play in. And he knew there were things he could not smell in the drink, secret things, things that came from the bag his mother wore around her neck, that whitened the tips of her fingers and his own tongue.
"Drink it now, Serapio," she said, resting a hand briefly against his cheek. "It's better to drink it cold. And I've put more sweet in it this time, so you can keep it down better."
He flushed, embarrassed by her mention of his earlier vomiting. She had warned him to drink the morning's dose quickly, but he had been hesitant and sipped it instead, and he had heaved up some of the drink in a milky mess. He was determined to prove himself worthy this time, more than just a timid boy.
He grasped the cup between shaking hands, and under his mother's watchful gaze, he brought it to his lips. The drink was bitter cold, and as she had promised, much sweeter than the morning's portion.
"All of it," she chided as his throat protested and he started to lower the cup. "Else it won't be enough to numb the pain."
He forced himself to swallow, tilting his head back to drain the vessel. His stomach protested, but he held it down. Ten seconds passed, and then another ten. He triumphantly handed the empty cup back.
"My brave little godlet," she said, her lips curling into a smile that made him feel blessed.
She set the cup on the nearby table next to the pile of cotton cords she would use later to tie him down. He glanced at the cords, and the bone needle and gut thread next to them. She would use that on him, too.
Sweat dampened his hairline, slicking his dark curls to his head despite the chill that beset the room. He was brave, as brave as any twelve-year-old could be, but looking at the needle made him wish for the numbing poison to do its job as quickly as possible.
His mother caught his worry and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You make your ancestors proud, my son. Now… smile for me."
He did, baring his teeth. She picked up a small clay bowl and dipped a finger in. It came out red. She motioned him closer. He leaned in so she could rub the dye across his teeth. It tasted like nothing, but part of his mind could not stop thinking about the insects he had watched his mother grind into the nut milk to make the dye. A single drop, like blood, fell on her lap. She frowned and scrubbed at it with the meat of her palm.
She was wearing a simple black sheath that bared her strong brown arms, the hem long enough to brush the stone floor at their feet. Her waist-length black hair spilled loose down her back. Around her neck, a collar of crow feathers the shade of midnight, tips dyed as red as the paint on his teeth.
"Your father thought he could forbid me to wear this," she said calmly enough, but the boy could hear the thread of pain in her voice, the places where deprivation and sorrow had left their cracks. "But your father doesn't understand that this is the way of my ancestors, and their ancestors before them. He cannot stop a Carrion Crow woman from dressing to honor the crow god, particularly on a day as sacred as today."
"He's afraid of it," the boy said, the words coming without thought. It must be the poison loosening his tongue. He would never have dared such words otherwise.
His mother blinked, obviously surprised by his insight, and then she shrugged.
"Perhaps," she agreed. "The Obregi fear many things they do not understand. Now, hold still until I'm done."
She worked quickly, coloring his teeth a deep carmine until it looked like blood filled his mouth. She smiled. Her teeth were the same. Father was right to fear her like this, the boy thought. She looked fierce, powerful. The handmaiden of a god.
"How does your back feel?" she asked as she returned the bowl of dye to the table.
"Fine," he lied. She had carved the haahan on his back earlier that day at dawn. Woken him from bed, fed him his first cup of numbing poison, and tol...
