Babylon’s Ashes (The Expanse)

If you’ve been following Jim Holden and the crew of the Rocinante through The Expanse series, Babylon’s Ashes is the moment where everything you’ve been building toward finally reaches a critical boiling point. This sixth installment, which debuted in December 2016 and was subsequently published in various editions throughout 2017, represents a pivotal turning point in James S.A. Corey’s sprawling space opera—and honestly, it’s the kind of book that makes you understand why this series became a cultural phenomenon.

What makes Babylon’s Ashes particularly significant is how it transforms the entire scope of the conflict. By this point in the series, you’re not just dealing with political intrigue between Earth, Mars, and the Belt anymore. The arrival of the Free Navy and Marco Inaros’s revolution fundamentally reshapes the galaxy itself. Over its 576 pages, the narrative doesn’t shy away from the devastating consequences of large-scale warfare, exploring themes that resonate far beyond typical space opera territory.

This book was nominated for Readers’ Favorite Science Fiction in 2017, a testament to how deeply it connected with the fanbase during a critical moment in the story’s evolution.

Here’s what makes this entry stand out from its predecessors:

• The scale of destruction — Unlike previous books, the conflict here is genuinely catastrophic. Entire populations face annihilation, and the moral weight of that reality permeates every chapter
• Character fracturing — The crew of the Rocinante finds itself scattered and tested in ways that challenge their fundamental bonds
• Ideological complexity — Corey doesn’t reduce the Free Navy to simple villainy; their grievances are rooted in legitimate colonial exploitation
• The human cost of war — This isn’t glossy space combat; it’s about starvation, displacement, and the collapse of entire worlds

The narrative unfolds with impressive structural ambition, weaving together multiple viewpoints and timelines to create a sense of genuine chaos and confusion—which is exactly what a galaxy-spanning civil war should feel like. Corey’s writing style here is lean and purposeful; there’s no padding or unnecessary exposition. Every scene drives the larger conflict forward while deepening our understanding of how ordinary people survive (or don’t) in extraordinary circumstances.

What’s particularly clever about how Babylon’s Ashes works is the way it balances epic scope with intimate storytelling. Yes, entire space stations are being destroyed and populations are dying by the millions. But the emotional core remains grounded in the relationships between characters you’ve come to care about. When Holden makes impossible decisions, you feel the weight of them because you understand what he’s sacrificing—not just in terms of resources or strategy, but in terms of his own humanity.

The book also deepens the mythology of the series in fascinating ways. Without spoiling anything, the implications of the Laconian situation and what’s happening in the far reaches of space add layers of intrigue that suggest Corey had a master plan extending far beyond this installment. Fans who’d been theorizing about the series’ endgame suddenly had new material to obsess over.

1. Thematic depth — Explores colonialism, revolution, and the cycle of violence in nuanced ways
2. Character development — Forces every major player to confront their limitations and moral boundaries
3. Worldbuilding expansion — Opens new frontiers while deepening our understanding of existing ones
4. Narrative momentum — Propels the series forward with genuine stakes and irreversible consequences

When this book hit shelves, it arrived at a moment when The Expanse was transitioning from devoted book-series fandom to mainstream recognition, thanks to the television adaptation gaining traction. The TV show brought new readers to the novels, and many discovered that Corey’s books offered even more complexity and depth than the screen version could accommodate. Babylon’s Ashes became a gateway for fans to understand just how intricate and ambitious the source material truly was.

The 576-page narrative doesn’t feel bloated or self-indulgent. Every subplot, every character arc, every technological detail serves the larger story. This is masterful editing and plotting working in concert.

What endures about Babylon’s Ashes, beyond the immediate plot thrills, is its exploration of what revolution actually costs. Corey refuses to let readers off easy—there are no clean victories here, no moral certainties. The Free Navy’s cause contains legitimate grievances, but their methods are catastrophic. Holden and his crew try to do the right thing, but the right thing often means choosing between horrible options. That moral ambiguity is what elevates the book from “fun space adventure” to genuinely meaningful science fiction.

If you’re looking for a space opera that treats large-scale conflict with the gravity it deserves, that develops its characters through adversity rather than exposition, and that trusts its readers to grapple with complicated ideas—Babylon’s Ashes absolutely deserves your time. It’s the kind of book that justifies why The Expanse became more than just a series; it became a phenomenon that changed how we think about science fiction in the 21st century.