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Summary
Summary
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER * Red Rising hit the ground running and wasted no time becoming a sensation. Golden Son continues the stunning saga of Darrow, a rebel forged by tragedy, battling to lead his oppressed people to freedom.
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY NPR, BUZZFEED, AND BOOKLIST * "Gripping . . . On virtually every level, this is a sequel that hates sequels--a perfect fit for a hero who already defies the tropes. [Grade:] A"-- Entertainment Weekly
As a Red, Darrow grew up working the mines deep beneath the surface of Mars, enduring backbreaking labor while dreaming of the better future he was building for his descendants. But the Society he faithfully served was built on lies. Darrow's kind have been betrayed and denied by their elitist masters, the Golds--and their only path to liberation is revolution. And so Darrow sacrifices himself in the name of the greater good for which Eo, his true love and inspiration, laid down her own life. He becomes a Gold, infiltrating their privileged realm so that he can destroy it from within.
A lamb among wolves in a cruel world, Darrow finds friendship, respect, and even love--but also the wrath of powerful rivals. To wage and win the war that will change humankind's destiny, Darrow must confront the treachery arrayed against him, overcome his all-too-human desire for retribution--and strive not for violent revolt but a hopeful rebirth. Though the road ahead is fraught with danger and deceit, Darrow must choose to follow Eo's principles of love and justice to free his people.
He must live for more.
Praise for Golden Son
"Stirring . . . Comparisons to The Hunger Games and Game of Thrones series are inevitable, for this tale has elements of both." --Kirkus Reviews
"Brown writes layered, flawed characters . . . but plot is his most breathtaking strength. . . . Every action seems to flow into the next." --NPR
Don't miss any of Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga:
RED RISING * GOLDEN SON * MORNING STAR * IRON GOLD * DARK AGE * LIGHT BRINGER
Author Notes
Pierce Brown worked as a manager of social media at a startup tech company, on the Disney lot at ABC Studios, as an NBC page, and as an aide on a U.S. Senate campaign. He is the author of the Red Rising Trilogy. Morning Star, Book 3 of the Red Rising Trilogy, made the New York Times ebook bestseller list in 2016.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Misdirection and chaos mark the twisty second book of Brown's SF trilogy (after Red Rising), set mostly on a near-future Mars divided between the ruling Golds and the peons called Reds. Red-born Darrow has been recruited by radicals, disguised as one of the elite, and sent to spark a revolution, but Brown makes it clear (often through scenes of mopey self-reflection) that Darrow's not suited to the task. As a sleeper agent, he is forced to manipulate both friend and foe, a burden described vividly and to great effect. Brown shows everything organically, from the Roman influences on the culture to the exciting potential hidden in both halves of society. Dramatic battles with a real sense of loss, and a final chapter that slams into both Darrow and the reader, make this the rare middle book that loses almost no momentum as it sets up the final installment. (Jan.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
*Starred Review* The second entry in Brown's trilogy picks up two years after the first, Red Rising (2014), with teenage Darrow, a low-born Red sent to infiltrate the ruling Gold society, securing a position in the household of Augustus, the man who ordered the execution of Darrow's wife. Darrow loses Augustus' favor after a battle against a rival house goes poorly and thus must grapple with a major setback in his plan to overthrow the Gold sovereigns. Facing expulsion from Augustus' house, Darrow is tasked with setting off an explosive at a gala held by the Sons of Ares, the revolutionaries who set Darrow on this path. The mission creates a fair amount of emotional turmoil for Darrow, who, despite himself, has grown close to more than a few members of the elite society, including Mustang, Augustus' spirited, brilliant daughter. Darrow's decision ultimately propels him on a new course, forcing him to wrestle with his identity and what lengths he will go to in order to achieve his goals. The stakes are even higher than they were in Red Rising, and the twists and turns of the story are every bit as exciting. The jaw-dropper of an ending will leave readers hungry for the conclusion to Brown's wholly original, completely thrilling saga.--Huntley, Kristine Copyright 2010 Booklist
Kirkus Review
Brown presents the second installment of his epic science-fiction trilogy, and like the first (Red Rising, 2014), it's chock-full of interpersonal tension, class conflict and violence.The opening reintroduces us to Darrow au Andromedus, whose wife, Eo, was killed in the first volume. Also known as the Reaper, Darrow is a lancer in the House of Augustus and is still looking for revenge on the Golds, who are both in control and in the ascendant. The novel opens with a galactic war game, seemingly a simulation, but Darrow's opponent, Karnus au Bellona, makes it very real when he rams Darrow's ship and causes a large number of fatalities. In the main narrative thread, Darrow has infiltrated the Golds and continues to seek ways to subvert their oppressive and dominant culture. The world Brown creates here is both dense and densely populated, with a curious amalgam of the classical, the medieval and the futuristic. Characters with names like Cassius, Pliny, Theodora and Nero coexistsometimes uneasilywith Daxo, Kavax and Sevro. And the characters inhabit a world with a vaguely medieval social hierarchy yet containing futuristic technology such as gravBoots. Amid the chronological murkiness, one thing is clearDarrow is an assertive hero claiming as a birthright his obligation to fight against oppression: "For seven hundred years we have been enslaved.We have been kept in darkness. But there will come a day when we walk in the light." Stirringand archetypalstuff. Comparisons to The Hunger Games and Game of Thrones series are inevitable, for this tale has elements of bothfantasy, the future and quasi-historicism. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
Starred Review. After winning the Institute in Red Rising, Darrow has pinned his star to that of Mars governor Augustus. He continues to work toward the goal with which he started this journey: bring down the society that subjugates his people and empowers a mostly spoiled and vicious ruling class. Darrow still moves undetected among the Golds, having been genetically altered from his Red nature to pass as one of the ruling elite. However, when a rival from a Mars family feuding with House Augustus schemes to bring him down, Darrow will have to take extreme measures to stay near Augustus and keep assisting the Sons of Ares, the rebels working to end the society. VERDICT Moving the story from the tight confines of the Institute actually makes this an even better novel than Brown's breakout debut. The scope of the conflict is larger it's not a child's game anymore but a real battle for the future of the solar system. Darrow remains a fascinating yet tortured martyr, never able to grab any personal happiness when he knows how much rests on his shoulders. [See Prepub Alert, 7/7/14.] (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
1 Warlords My silence thunders. I stand on the bridge of my starship, arm broken and held in a gelcast, ion burns still raw on my neck. I'm bloodydamn tired. My razor coils around my good right arm like a cold metal snake. Before me, space opens, vast and terrible. Small fragments of light prick the darkness, and primordial shadows move to block those stars on the fringes of my vision. Asteroids. They float slowly around my man-of-war, Quietus, as I search the blackness for my quarry. "Win," my master told me. "Win as my children cannot, and you will bring honor to the name Augustus. Win at the Academy and you earn yourself a fleet." He likes dramatic repetition. It suits most statesmen. He'd have me win for him, but I'd win for the Red girl with a dream bigger than she ever could be. I'd win so that he dies, and her message burns across the ages. Small order. I am twenty. Tall and broad in the shoulders. My uniform, all sable, now wrinkled. Hair long and eyes Golden, bloodshot. Mustang once said I have a sharp face, with cheeks and nose seemingly carved from angry marble. I avoid mirrors myself. Better to forget the mask I wear, the mask that bears the angled scar of the Golds who rule the worlds from Mercury to Pluto. I am of the Peerless Scarred. Cruelest and brightest of all humankind. But I miss the kindest of them. The one who asked me to stay as I bid her and Mars goodbye on her balcony almost a year ago. Mustang. I gave her a horse-crested gold ring as a parting gift, and she gave me a razor. Fitting. The taste of her tears grows stale in memory. I have not heard from her since I left Mars. Worse, I have not heard from the Sons of Ares since I won at Mars's Institute more than two years ago. Dancer said he would contact me once I graduated, but I have been cast adrift among a sea of Golden faces. This is so far from the future I imagined for myself as a boy. So far from the future I wanted to make for my people when I let the Sons carve me. I thought I would change the worlds. What young fool doesn't? Instead, I have been swallowed by the machine of this vast empire as it rumbles inexorably on. At the Institute, they trained us to survive and conquer. Here at the Academy they taught us war. Now they test our fluency. I lead a fleet of warships against other Golds. We fight with dummy munitions and launch raiding parties from ship to ship in the way of Gold astral combat. No reason to break a ship that costs the gross yearly output of twenty cities when you can send leechCraft packed with Obsidians, Golds, and Grays to seize her vital organs and make her your prize. Amid lessons of astral combat, our teachers hammered in the maxims of their race. Only the strong survive. Only the brilliant rule. And then they left and let us fend for ourselves, jumping asteroid to asteroid, searching for supplies, bases, hunting our fellow students till only two fleets remain. I'm still playing games. This is just the deadliest yet. "It's a trap," Roque says from my elbow. His hair is long, like mine, and his face soft as a woman's and placid as a philosopher's. Killing in space is different from killing on land. Roque is a prodigy at it. There's poetry to it, he says. Poetry to the motion of the spheres and the ships that sail between. His face fits with the Blues who crew these vessels--airy men and women who drift like wayward spirits through the metal halls, all logic and strict order. "But it's not so elegant a trap as Karnus might think," he continues. "He knows we're eager to end the game, so he will wait on the other side. Force us into a choke point and release his missiles. Tried and true since the dawn of time." Roque carefully points to the space between two huge asteroids, a narrow corridor we must travel if we wish to continue following Karnus's wounded ship. "Everything's a damn trap." Tactus au Rath, rangy and careless, yawns. He leans his dangerous frame against the viewport and shoots a stim up his nose from the ring on his finger. He tosses the spent cartridge to the floor. "Karnus knows he's lost. He's just torturing us. Leading us on a little merry chase so we can't sleep. The selfish prick." "You're such a little Pixie, always yapping and whining," Victra au Julii sneers from her place against the viewport. Her jagged hair hangs just past ears pierced with jade. Impetuous and cruel, but neither to a fault, she disdains makeup in favor of the scars she's earned through her twenty-seven years. There are many. Her eyes are heavy, deeply set. Her sensual mouth wide, with lips shaped to purr insults. She looks more like her famous mother than her younger half-sister, Antonia; but in her capacity for general mayhem she far outstrips both. "Traps mean nothing," she declares. "His fleet has been dashed. He has but one ship. We've seven. How about we just bust his mouth?" "Darrow has seven," Roque reminds her. "Your pardon?" she asks, annoyed at the correction. "Seven of Darrow's ships remain. You called them ours. They are not ours. He is Primus." "Pedantic poet strikes again. The point is the same, my goodman." "That we should be rash instead of prudent?" Roque asks. "That it is seven against one. It would be embarrassing to let this drag out any longer. So, let's squish the Bellona thug like a cockroach with our sizable boot, fly back to base, take our just rewards from old Augustus, and go play." She twists her heel for emphasis. "Here, here," Tactus agrees. "My kingdom for a gram of demonDust." "That your fifth stimshot today, Tactus?" Roque asks. "Yes! Thank you for noticing, Mommy dearest! But I grow weary of this military crank. I believe I desire Pearl clubs and copious amounts of respectable drugs." "You're going to burn out." Tactus slaps his thigh. "Live fast. Die young. While you're a boring old raisin, I'll be a glorious memory of finer times and decadent days." Roque shakes his head. "One day, my wayward friend, you're going to find someone you love who makes you laugh at the silly person you once were. You'll have children. You'll have an estate. And somehow you'll learn there are more important things than drugs and Pinks." "By Jove." Tactus stares at him in utter horror. "That sounds resolutely miserable." I peer at the tactical display, ignoring their banter. The quarry we chase is Karnus au Bellona, the older brother of my former friend, Cassius au Bellona, and the boy I killed in the Passage, Julian au Bellona. Of that curly-haired family, Cassius is the favorite son. Julian was the kindest. And Karnus? My broken arm stands testament--he's the monster they let out of their basement to kill things. Since the Institute, my celebrity has grown. So when news reached the Violet gossip circuit that the ArchGovernor was finally sending me to further my studies, Karnus au Bellona and a few handpicked cousins were dispatched by Cassius's mother to "study" as well. The family wants my heart on a plate. Quite literally. Only Augustus's badge holds them back. To attack me is to attack him. In the end, I could give a bloody piss about their vendetta or my master's bloodfeud with their house. I want the fleet so I can use it for the Sons of Ares. What a mess I could cause. I've made a study of supply lines, sensor stations, battlegroups, data hubs--all the pressure points that might cause the Society to stagger. "Darrow . . ." Roque comes closer. "Guard your hubris. Remember Pax. Pride kills." "I want it to be a trap," I tell Roque. "Let Karnus turn and face us." He tilts his head. "You've set your own trap for him." "Now, what makes you say that?" "You might have told us. I could have--" "Karnus falls today, brother. That is the simple fact of the matter." "Of course. I only want to help. You know that." "I know." I stifle a yawn and let my eyes sweep the bridgepits behind and below me. Blues of many shades toil there, working the systems that run my ship. They speak more slowly than any other Color save Obsidian, favoring digital communication. They are older than I, graduates of the Midnight School, all. Beyond them, near the back of the bridge, Gray marines and several Obsidians stand sentinel. I clap Roque on the shoulder. "It's time." "Sailors," I call to the Blues in the pit. "Sharpen your wits. This is the final nail in the Bellona coffin. We put this bastard into the ether and I promise the greatest gift in my power to give--a week of solid sleep. Prime?" A few of the Grays near the back of the bridge laugh. The Blues just rap their knuckles on their instruments. I'd give half my substantial bank account, compliments of the ArchGovernor, to see one of those pale airbrains crack a smile. "Enough delay," I announce. "Gunners to positions. Roque, cluster the destroyers. Victra, attend targeting. Tactus, defense deployment. We're ending this now." I look over at my wispy helmBlue. He stands central in the pit beneath my command platform amid fifty others. The snaking digiTats that mark the Blues' bald heads and spidery hands glow subtle shades of cerulean and silver as they sync with the ship's computers. Their eyes go distant as optic nerves revert to the digital world. They speak only out of courtesy to us. "Helmsman, engines to sixty percent." "Aye, dominus." He glances at the tactical display, a globular holo floating above his head, voice like a machine. "Mind, the concentration of metal in the asteroids presents difficulty in assessing spectro readings. We're a mite blind. A fleet could hide on the other side of the asteroids." "He doesn't have a fleet. Into the breach," I say. The ship's engines rumble. I nod to Roque and say, "Hic sunt leones." The words of our master, Nero au Augustus, ArchGovernor of Mars, thirteenth of his name. My warlords echo the phrase. Here be lions. Excerpted from Golden Son by Pierce Brown All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
