In the center of the sphere is Candesce, the Sun of Suns. Biggest and oldest luminary, Candesce supports the apex of Virgan civilizations. The further one goes from Candesce, the cruder life gets. Vast cubic areas of space have no heat: These are called patches of winter. On the inner surface of Virga's skin have collected giant glaciers, pointing inward like icy teeth. Outside the walls: an enigmatic posthuman environment dubbed "Artificial Nature."

Any place humans congregate will feature competition and war, and Virga is no exception. The primitive technologies of the Virgans—kerosene lamps, fan-propelled sky bikes—naturally feature armed warships that "sail" the voids between cities. When the community of Slipstream attacks its neighbor, Aerie, causing it to scuttle the nascent sun that it had been counting on for independence, then young Hayden Griffin is left without a home or family, bent on revenge.

Attaining adulthood, Hayden insinuates himself into the employ of Adm. Chaison Fanning and his Lady Macbeth-style wife, Venera, intent on killing the man he deems responsible for his personal tragedy. The Slipstreamers are embarking on a secret mission: to visit Candesce and tamper with the controls of the sun, to aid themselves in an upcoming war. Hayden accompanies them among the wonders of Virga—effete spiderlike humans, sargassos of space—awaiting a chance to strike. But the longer he stays with the Fannings, sharing their trials and triumphs, the less murderous he feels. And falling in love with the mysterious Aubri Mahallan—the only person from outside Virga anyone has ever seen—only tempers Hayden's revengeful goals further.

But a climactic showdown inside Candesce itself will test his real allegiances.

Reinventing the planetary romance

Sun of Suns bears endorsements from Larry Niven and Stephen Baxter, and Karl Schroeder fully earns their support and comparisons to their masterpieces Raft (1991) and The Integral Trees (1984). (Resonances with Paul McAuley's Confluence series resound as well.) Schroeder has the same knack as these other writers for making strange physics the star of his tale, conveying the altered realities of his new environment with crystalline acuity, much as Adam Roberts also does. The odd implications and quotidian constraints of the Virgan ecosphere are brilliantly depicted.

But Schroeder also has a foot in another camp, that of the resurgent planetary romance. Like Chris Roberson with his Paragaea, Schroeder wants to restage the classic pulp tropes of sword battles among the starlanes, to revivify the Robert Louis Stevenson/Rafael Sabatini roots of the subgenre, and he does so with elan and brio, blending the exciting action with the speculations seamlessly. Hayden Griffin is a fine character to shoulder this tale, a man of intense drives, intelligence and contradictions. His growth is touching and believable, and the characters around him support his story splendidly.

I've recently been reading the reprints of Alex Raymond's classic Flash Gordon strips from the 1930s, and I was struck by how much Schroeder's work recreates the dreamlike force of Raymond's invention and storytelling. He's managed to recapture a youthful sense of wonder too often missing these days, and that's a winning tactic.

For a look at the other modes in which Schroeder is also accomplished, check out his recent short-story collection, The Engine of Recall.