Caliban's War

“They’d managed to stop the human race from being wiped out by a corporation’s self-induced sociopathy and a recovered alien weapon that everyone in human history had mistaken for a moon of Saturn.”

This exposition sums up the first novel in The Expanse series, Leviathan Wakes, with the matter-of fact dry humor that characterizes Holden’s voice within the third-person close perspective narration.

“But the spring still came. The election cycle still rose and fell. The evening star still lit the indigo heavens, outshining even the greatest cities of Earth.”

This imagery of the returning seasons and the enduring heavens symbolizes the cyclical and enduring quality of nature, which “still” persists even as human civilizations change. Avasarala’s moment of philosophical reflection introduces the motif of the fragility of human survival. Avasarala plays the long game in her political maneuvering, but only on a human scale; here, she considers how short-term that scale really is in the grand scheme of planetary existence.

“The secret of closed-system botanical collapse was this: It’s not the thing that breaks you need to watch out for. It’s the cascade.”

Prax, who is a botanical scientist, uses the image of a cascade to understand how systems are breaking down on Ganymede. Later, he will use the concept of the cascade as a metaphor to communicate the far-reaching devastation that Errinwright and Nguyen have wrought with their experiments.

“That’s the only way you do anything. By yourself.”

Holden’s internal monologue on Ganymede shows him adopting the solo heroics of Detective Miller, whose go-it-alone attitude Naomi will later criticize. Part of Holden’s character arc is to transition from seeing himself as a lone gun to accepting that he is the leader of a crew who needs other people. This arc is part of the novel’s argument for the importance of The Bonds of Family.

“The same thing as always. Try to keep civilization from blowing up while the children are in it.”

Avasarala reveals early on that while she enjoys her position of power, her primary motivation is to keep the world safe for future generations. This sympathetic goal arises in part from her affection for her grandchildren and her traumatic loss of her son when he was 15. Here, she leavens the seriousness of her ambition through typically deadpan, humorous delivery.

“Holden realized that he’d never in his life needed anything as badly as this man needed to see his daughter again. To his surprise, it made him sad.”

Holden’s reflection on his own desire to be completely self-sufficient marks the beginning of his character arc; later; he will realize the value of human connection and support. Prax’s drive to find Mei inspires the Rocinante crew, and soon enough the other protagonists unite to help him.

“If Martians didn’t have to fight every day to make enough resources to survive, would they turn into this? A culture where you could actually choose if you wanted to contribute?”

By imagining a militarized and authoritarian Mars, the novel creates a contrast between two systems of government. Bobbie, as an outsider to Earth, analyzes the advantages and failures of the welfare state; on the one hand, no one on Earth is completely destitute, but on the other hand, it’s civilization appears bloated and stagnant. Bobbie is disgusted by the idea that anyone would choose not “to contribute” to the greater social good; for her, productivity is a core value. However, the drive and ambition that she extols can also be used for destructive ends, as the novel shows.

“She was there. She was just out there, on the ship lifting away from Ganymede. He could feel her like she had a rope tied to his heart and every moment pulled it out of him a little more.”

Prax’s feeling of having a physical connection to Mei illustrates the powerful link between parent and child, emphasizing The Bonds of Family. Prax’s need to find Mei puts a human face on the larger threat of the protomolecule and confirms that protecting loved ones is the motivation the defines the novel’s moral center.

“Ganymede Station was one of the first permanent human toe-holds in the outer planets. It had been built with the long term in mind, not only in its own architecture, but also in how it would fit with the grand human expansion out into the darkness at the edge of the solar system.”

Setting the action on Ganymede and other moons adds to the novel’s adherence to the conventions of the hard science fiction genre. The moon’s colony is imagined as an outpost that anchors colonies further out in space; here, food is farmed, scientists study better crops, and children are nurtured to prevent some of the problems of outer belt development. The novel’s interest is not in presenting the future as a magical realm of plenty, but in considering how advances in technology would butt up against realities of biology and limitations of logistics. The imagery holds Ganymede Station as a beacon in the cosmos, combating the terrifying “darkness” of the cosmos.

“She could no more pick out the light of its death than pluck a particular molecule of sand from the ocean, but she knew it was there, and the fact was like a stone in her belly.”

The desolation of Ganymede Station represents an existential threat—something Avasarala deeply understands because even though she “could not more pick out the light of its death,” she can see the big picture of solar system colonization and Ganymede’s importance within it. Her view of the stars belies that reality; to the eye, the colonies look tiny and identical from Earth, each insignificant like a “molecule of sand.” However, in reality, she knows the significance of what she can’t directly observe; the destruction is as crushing as “a stone in her belly”—an image of inescapable torment.

“In a context of such immensity, of distances and speeds so far above any meaningful human experience, it seemed like nothing should matter.”

In his first trip in space, Prax tries to put his daughter’s disappearance in context of the vastness, but finds he can’t do it; finding Mei is the most important thing in the universe to him. His conclusion that although “nothing should matter” when compared to the infinity he’s observing, one thing does actually continue to matter more than anything else underscores The Bonds of Family.

“The thing in the cargo bay was unquestionably the same technology, but harnessed for some different application. The cotton ticking shifted.”

Prax, who has used the metaphor of cotton ticking to describe how his brain feels fuzzy when he doesn’t understand something, feels that fuzziness shift when he makes an observation about how the infected human in the Rocinante’s hold is behaving. This discovery pushes away The Limits of Scientific Knowledge as Prax’s grasp of how the protomolecule is evolving gives the crew the means to understand how to fight the creature, changing the terms of the conflict.

“Good men and women had already died because of [Errinwright] and Nguyen. Children had died on Ganymede. Belters would be scrambling for calories. Some would starve.”

Avasarala guesses mid-way through the novel that Errinwright acquired a sample of the protomolecule because he wants to develop a weapon. This puts a human face on the threat that is facing the solar system, making the large-scale conflict relatable. Driven to stop more people from getting hurt, Avasarala deploys her political genius to work on stopping this evil, demonstrating the value of Strategic Versus Heroic Action.

“To have something so much like the fruits of evolution, but designed by human minds, was awe-inspiring. It was the pinnacle of what creativity meant, the impossible made real.”

To occasionally release the high tension and illuminate the stakes of the conflict, the narrative offers small depictions of the better aspects of human nature: love, joy, and connection. Here, as the Roci approaches Tycho Station, Prax thinks about human ingenuity. While other characters use advances in human technology to control or subdue others, Prax’s appreciation of human creativity provides counterbalance and dimension to the novel’s perspective.

“He’d been driven by his fear to become someone else. Someone who handled fear by turning it into violence.”

The novel explores different motivations for human behavior. Under the sway of Detective Miller’s go-it-alone philosophy, Holden begins the novel as “someone else”—a person Naomi doesn’t recognize. When Holden admits his fear, it frees him to act more humanely, choosing compassion over violence in encounters. His transformation is an example of the version of humanity that the protagonists are fighting to protect.

“But just like Errinwright and Nguyen and all the others, she was caught up in this smaller, human struggle of war and influence and the tribal division between Earth and Mars. The outer planets too, if you took them seriously.”

While Avasarala tracks what is happening on Venus and the associated species- and solar-system-wide concerns, she recognizes that the political side of the conflict is, as always, a “smaller, human struggle.” Just as people respond more to the destruction on Ganymede when Mei becomes its face, Avasarala sees that humans care most about what personally impacts them.

“She felt it too, the atavistic fear lurking at the back of her mind. How much easier to turn to the old games, the old patterns, the history or warfare and conflict, deception and death. For all its horror, it was familiar. It was known.”

As part of her strategizing, Avasarala thinks about what could be motivating the men she is fighting against—Errinwright, Nguyen, and the rest—and deduces they are acting out of self-defense and taking refuge in the familiar. Exploring the motivations of the antagonists makes them understandable villains and gives the larger conflict texture and depth.

“Seriously […] Who are we? It’s the question I keep coming back to.”

Holden’s character arc is about discovering and confirming his identity. Once he recovers his core self, thanks to Naomi, he rethinks his relationship with the Rocinante’s crew. The conclusion they collectively reach—that they are a family of co-workers united in the same cause—echoes the larger theme of The Bonds of Family in the novel.

“So you want me to give all the info to your little political cabal back on Earth, when the entire reason for this problem is that there are little political cabals back on Earth.”

Holden’s retort to Avasarala, with its ironic repetition of the mocking phrase “little political cabal,” highlights the contrast of Strategic Versus Heroic Action: Holden wants to rush in shooting, cowboy-style, while Avasarala is deliberate, playing the long game. The differences in perspective provide productive conflict when they become allies, and their clashes also add a note of humor that counters the high levels of tension.

“More of these stars have planets around them than don’t. Billions of worlds. Five hundred million planets in the habitable zone was the last estimate. Think our great-grandkids will get to see any of them?”

Several characters take time to contemplate with awe the immense grandeur of the solar system, comparing its scale with human reach. Holden’s comment to Naomi reflects on the ambition and curiosity that led to colonization of the system, and the hope that future generations will continue exploring the “five hundred million planets in the habitable zone.”

“So this was what it came to. All of human civilization, everything it had managed, from the first cave painting to crawling up the gravity well and pressing out into the antechamber of the stars, came down to whether a man whose greatest claim to fame was that he’d been thrown in prison for writing bad poetry had the balls to back down Errinwright.”

Avasarala’s summation of the crux of the conflict facing the crew as they enter the climactic confrontation showcases her somewhat gallows sense of humor. The sweeping summary of human progress as a march of developing technology and civilization is a motif throughout the book, but here, Avasarala’s crisply thrown off list verbally downplays while emotively raising the stakes resting on the actions of one influential human.

“She looked at this angry, small, shortsighted, frightened little man and tried to find the way to pull him back to simple human decency.”

In the final battle, after hybrid humanoids are launched at Mars and the UN fleet has abandoned the antagonists’ side, the conflict comes down to several face-to-face confrontations. Here, Avasarala and Nguyen, two older politicians, square off. Unlike Bobbie’s fight with the hybrid, this battle is not physical. Instead, by showing the antagonist as a “small” and “frightened little man,” the novel humanizes Nguyen and suggests that even he could be restored “to simple human decency.” When he refuses, his execution seems fitting punishment for the lives lost because of his ambition and selfishness.

“A dead daughter, a company in ruins, millions of people slaughtered, a solar system that will probably never have peaceful stability again. Was it worth it?”

As part of the resolution, after the climactic battle, Holden asks Jules-Pierre Mao how he can simply brush aside the costly consequences of his actions. Mao doesn’t answer, preferring to ignore Holden’s self-righteous anger rather than face unflattering introspection.