If you loved «The Rebel of Rhada» by Robert Cham Gilman (that is, Alfred Coppel in disguise), then be prepared for a huge disappointment: «The Navigator of Rhada» (1969), second book in the Rhada series, is far from being good, although it isn’t utterly bad either. It’s just…bland, dull if you want, a flavorless story where nothing really happens until the end, when everything happens instead and restores anything as it was in the beginning.
Meanwhile, the book is painful to read, especially in the first half, as it trudges in search of both an identity of its own and a character who can stand on his own two feet: the main reason for this sudden and unexpected failure is, the setting has advanced from what it was in the previous novel. Now, over a century later, most of that charm has gone, as the setting is turning slowly into a generic space operatic setting with just a hint of feudalism still surviving: thus, there goes that «Middle Ages in space» flavor that characterized the series and was its main attraction.
A boring novel with two big issues
Set a good century after the events told in «The Rebel of Rhada», which ended with the stabilization of the newly reborn Second Stellar Empire, «The Navigator of Rhada» deals with concurrent attempts at seizing power by both the Order of Navigators – the galactic church that safeguards its monopoly on knowledge and operating technology, especially starships – and a minor but influential and ambitious king, who takes profit from his position as an advisor to the unfit emperor or «Galacton» to make some scheming of his own, which is bound to backfire miserably, although not as spectacularly as one might expect.
All this plotting and scheming results in a slow and weak story, filled with endless descriptions, long explanations and frequent repetitions of the same concepts the reader is already familiar with for having been exposed to them previously, even in this same book.
Nonetheless, this isn’t the main issue with this novel, which especially suffers from two additional key weaknesses: first of all, the evanescent protagonist – Kynan, the titular Navigator – who lacks a character, a personality of his own despite being the anointed hero; and, secondly, the setting, which is now progressing from its original spark of interest (the Middle Ages in space) and turning into a new «Space Age of Enlightenment» where all the cool ideas – namely the contradictions of the feudalistic and backward aspects of a space-faring society – are being wiped out in favor of a more traditionally progressive and optimistic space operatic setting.
The setting is changing, and not for the best
When the previous novel ended, readers were left with a galaxy – the small part still united under an empire – reminiscent of the Middle Ages: castles and shanties were the common buildings, rubble from previous eras was everywhere and ignorance was still predominant; the few scientists, called warlocks, operated in the shadows as superstition was still strong enough to drive peasants to lynch the suspects on the spot because of «sin», or its suspicion.
A strong High Middle Ages vibe persisted all over the novel indeed, through parallels with the fall of the Roman empire and the barbarian invasions; or the Church and monasteries trying to preserve whatever knowledge was still salvageable, which is what the Order of Navigators was doing with their monopoly on starships: these contrasts between civilization and savagery, superstition and technology were the highlights that made that novel and especially that setting so charming.
Now over a century has passed since then and all the interesting things have already happened: the setting is a lot tidier now, as tidier are the cities and villages of the planets ruled by the expanding empire, that now counts over twenty thousand worlds, whereas in «Rebel» they used to be only the tenth part of it. So, a huge chunk of the mystery and that sense of filth, both tangible and metaphorical, has vanished, as vanished has «sin» as well: science and technology are no longer perceived as dangerous or intrinsically evil by profanes as they used to be a century before.
Hence, now the setting is brewing: it’s at the peak of a full-scale industrial revolution, with energy sources coming from coal, oil and mountain rivers. There’s plenty of new inventions or rediscoveries of ancient pieces of technology, many of which are still kept hidden though by a far-reaching Order of Navigators – whose secular power is increasing and comparable to that of the early Low Middle Ages Church and of popes like Gregory VII and Innocent III – that yearns for grabbing absolute power and is placing the final blow at the…oh, look: empire.
Gunpowder and «the art of bombing cities» have been rediscovered: Kynan himself is armed with a flintlock pistol, and a pair of assassins sent to kill him wield electric flails that scorch the victim’s flesh; but the Order is also secretly building blasters, starships, nuclear bombs and a frightful «meson screen» that turns a holy starship into a lifeless heap of steel instantly.
There are electric hovercars as well, that work exactly like real-world Teslas: that is, overrated and underperforming means of transport for the swankiest hipsters. Horses – especially the mutated breeds ridden by warmen – are still the better option for travelers, as characters observe that «it was impossible to travel by hovercar anywhere except on the floor of the valley or along the muddy shores of St. Francis Bay» and that «we can’t build a hovercar that will carry us a hundred kilometers without needing to recharge batteries».
So, they’re basically useless: just like real-world Teslas.
A likable but railroaded protagonist…
As told, the other big issue with this novel is the protagonist, Kynan the Navigator, a twenty-something who lacks in personality: sure, he’s skillful and resourceful and he’s also very likable albeit a little too much tailored for the part. Truth be told, nobody else in the whole galaxy, ever, might replace him in his role nor trade places with him, as he’s the twin brother of the unfit Galacton, which is unknown to everyone, Kynan included. And their kinship is what makes the plot possible.
In fact, as twins, they are also birds of a feather: but, since twins are also a disgrace to a ruling family due to the risk of feuds over the succession between the equally titled brothers, the Order gently spirited away Kynan as soon as he was born and put him under the tutelage of a minor king of a backwater planet. They didn’t do this out of mercy but because of their own scheming: actually the Order plots to overthrow the Galacton and seize control of the empire but to do this they need to install a puppet emperor on the throne. And what a better opportunity to do this than the birth of two twin brothers, one of whom is raised as a faithful Navigator the Order can manipulate at will?
So, no matter how likable Kynan is, he’s still a railroaded character: that is, even before discovering his royal birth and what the Order expects of him you get a feeling from the story that he’s just a puppet; one with a strong will of his own, maybe, but still a puppet. And so you can’t help either but feel that there’s the author’s hand heavily at work behind his every choice. You root for him, sure, because you like him; but you also know he can’t fail nor be wrong.
…and a weak but jolly emperor
Since we’re talking about characters, his twin brother Torquas XIII, the weak Galacton, also deserves a brief description: he’s unfit for the position he occupies, which he wouldn’t want to hold either, as he’s a poet and a junkie who turned the imperial court on Earth into a den of debauchery. As a weak and incompetent ruler, his more resolute courtesans can do and have him do whatever they wish: take general Veg Tran from Vega for example, who’s hatched a scheme to usurp the Galacton by seizing the not-so-secret nuclear bombs the Order is building on a faraway planet.
He gambles first and acts then, with a self-confidence you can only be jealous of: Torquas sure is, as he acknowledges in a pitiful scene. Looking at the strong general, at one point Torquas sees his own weakness and thinks that «it was so much easier to be the Sybarite while men like General Veg Tran ran the Empire (…) Did the end of the line lie just beyond the horizon? Did the Second Stellar Empire belong now to the Veg Trans»? Which sounds somewhat ironic to a contemporary reader’s ears, as it features a spineless soyboy who’s given up on being a man and is afraid to be replaced by «Veg(an) Trans» instead: so very funny, or rather tragic, in this day and age.
In the end he has his redeeming moment too, as the twin brothers’ first and only meeting also transforms Torquas into a better man and ruler, with the help of the more capable Kynan: who’s aware of his own weaknesses as well and thus turns down the opportunity of seizing the throne for the empire’s and his own good.
Besides the two brothers – the only characters who have just a pinch of personality – everyone else is wallflowers: allies and rivals are all equally cardboard figures that move on a flat scenery to advance (slowly) the plot or explain it. Even the villains aren’t even comparable to full-fledged adversaries: they’re more of a nuisance. Veg Tran is just a meteor who at first you’re led to think is a dangerous man but, when put to the test, he struggles to bite and is dealt with easily instead: actually, the real threat comes from the five princes of the Order but they’re revealed as such only later in the novel and are also effortlessly defeated by Kynan in the end.
Thus, from the point of view of its characters and their personalities, this novel is a desert.
A transition book with no merits of its own
While reviewing «The Rebel of Rhada» I observed that that novel is both the epitome of a travel book and a page turner: and yet «The Navigator of Rhada» fits only half that description, as it’s a mediocre travel book but no page turner at all. It’s quite boring instead, as the story advances slowly and nothing interesting happens for whole chapters: there are talks aplenty, and politics, and scheming and endless infodump; only action is lacking. The story improves a little toward the end but even then it’s just a flash in the pan, as nothing concrete really happens: armies move, armies deploy and then words – again – dissolve their rally.
The problem is, all the interesting things have already happened between either books: the empire has grown and got stronger in the century inbetween, progress has been advancing steadily and technology has become commonplace, losing most of its stigma. There’s no real threat to the empire anymore, neither from the outside nor from the inside, so Coppel has kind of forced his hand coming up with the menace – that is, menaces: by the Order and by general Veg Tran – to justify the plot: and neither sounds convincing, let alone entertaining. They’re rather strained, and you notice this as you struggle to read this novel.
All in all «Navigator» is just a transition book whose task is linking the previous book with the next and somehow explaining or rather showing how the setting and society are evolving: it can be seen as a means to prepare the reader for the even worse third novel, «The Starkhan of Rhada», when the setting will do another huge leap ahead, the Order will have lost most of its power and technology will have been restored to a level comparable to that of the fabled First Empire, whence so far the starships used to come from.
The books in the series are pretty independent from each other as they only share the setting and some references at most, so they could be read as standalones: so you could skip this novel and jump to the next directly. Anyhow, there’s a reason to read them all in sequence, even the weakest episodes, as this helps notice how the setting is changing: and in this evolution, from the ruins of a great empire to the magnificence of another, sits the message of the series, because hope and a vision can restore greatness.
You only have to never give up.