“Devil’s Due” is the 12th volume in The Destroyermen epic, and is absolutely true to its ancestry. Many “alternate history” books and series are centered on either how cool it would be if we could go back to year Y with modern technology T, or on what history might look like if a single event had not happened as it did. Taylor Anderson has cast The Destroyermen in a different paradigm.
You know all those extinction events that led to massive changes in the flora and fauna of Terra? Well, what might it look like if there were a parallel timeline on which those events hadn’t happened? I’ll give you a clue: Homo Sapiens would not necessarily be the apex predator. He has even taken a different slant on the out-of-season technology by using a pair of Wickes class destroyers, the USS Walker and USS Mahan, which were relics in 1942 when they and their crews were caught up in the fur ball of the Japanese conquest of Indonesia, Java, Borneo, and the Philippines. Fighting for their lives against a Japanese battle cruiser, they take cover in a really weird-looking squall, and when they come out, they are in the same where, but a different when – or something.
The Destroyermen find themselves caught up in a war of unimaginable savagery between two species that are about as anti-stereotypical as you could hope to find. Anderson’s development of the personalities of his characters – and their cultures - is subtle and deliciously unexpected, not only in the depth, but the consistency and the… flavor. His heroes are larger than life, and yet touchingly, hauntingly, precisely life like. None of them are bulletproof, either, nor omniscient. They make mistakes and they die, sometimes in those sudden, stupid ways that people die in war, or when fooling around with machinery that is just one step more advanced than perhaps it ought to be. (The technology the Destroyermen have brought to this screwy world gives them an edge for a while, but technology is remarkably portable and subject to unintended propagation.)
His villains are every bit as consistent, believable, and true to life as his heroes. Maniacs are maniacs even in their private thoughts and soliloquies, which Anderson allows us to eavesdrop on with a subtlety we may not even notice at first. In short, Anderson’s masterful artistry shows us the hearts and souls with which he has imbued his fantastic cast, and that is what makes the story.
By virtue of his knowledge of history, weapons, warfare, and the evolution of tactics, Anderson writes of strategy and tactics that ring as true as a Springfield Armory rifling machine. Devil’s Due and its prequels could be a textbook on the symbiosis of tactics and technology. It is a clinic on what warfare has been like at it evolved from clubs and spears to aircraft and automatic weapons. However, the technology is no more the story of The Destroyermen than the big boat was the story of Noah.
Anderson’s battles are things of deafening noise, choking smoke, terror, horror, burnt flesh and heroism. They aren’t for the faint of heart or the young and tender, but there is a simple, frank truth to them – a reality – that keeps them from being cheap, gore-filled shock literature. Much of human nature, good, bad, and all the grays in between is exposed on the battlefield, and Taylor Anderson writes of it all with a power than will scoot your chair across the floor, make your ears ring, and leave you exhausted.
The most remarkable thing about Anderson’s epic, though, is in the tiny details. Now, he doesn’t do like some authors and list the technical specifications of a firearm just to show off, though he is clearly expert enough to do that to the satiation of any buff. There will be a word or two in a sentence, or a phrase in a paragraph that covers the stark ribs and stringers of the narrative like the linen that covered the bones of Eddie Rickenbacker’s Spad. Texture is the word I find most descriptive. Anderson has created a whole world that can not only be experienced through his descriptions of the scenery, sounds, smells, and tastes, but is also felt in the texture he gives it through all those details that are actually all around us all the time, but to which we have grown habituated and jaded.
The Destroyermen is not fluff, but it most certainly is not of the lurid shock genre, either. It’s a literary porterhouse, with a loaded baked potato, an exquisitely crisp, salad (bleu cheese, thanks) and a frost-covered glass of… whatever you like.
As for “Devil’s Due,” it’s all those things, brought to us by a style that has been honed and balanced like the finest Damascus steel blade. We tread along incredibly complex plot lines that intersect and diverge like trails in dense woods and over rugged mountains. We brush past characters we met long ago, who, true to themselves, have come to this point by their own paths. We nod, look them in the eye, and wonder what will become of them, and when we find out, it’s right and true. We are proud to have known them, even if only briefly at a lonely LP in a hostile jungle. Anderson writes of the warrior ethos in understated terms that, like a whisper, overwhelm with their power.
Read “Devil’s Due” where you can laugh out loud, let your heart twist in your chest, and shout at the pages, “Give ‘em cold steel, Boys!” Oh, and have some tissues handy, because while it’s not all sadness, it is all intimately personal and right here.
Well done, Taylor. Keep ‘em coming.