In that volume, we visited an alternate universe where the "jonbar hinge" branching point occurred 200 million years ago. Now, generally speaking, we could expect such an early branching would lead to a radically different Earth, one where, say, dinosaurs ruled. But not here. The reason why Earth in this continuum developed pretty much identically to ours—up until 1962, anyhow—was that the important changes took place elsewhere in the solar system. Unknown, vanished aliens, dubbed the Lords of Creation, terraformed Venus and Mars and filled them with specimens of Terran life back in the Mesozoic, creating ecosystems that have since evolved radically. In 1962, probes from Earth landed on Venus and Mars and confirmed their habitability and the presence of intelligent natives. Contact and colonization followed.

The Sky People took place on Venus and followed the adventures of Terran Marc Vitrac among the natives, adventures that resulted in the discovery of a resident servant-type watcher left behind by the Lords of Creation. That being seems to have co-opted a human named Franziskus Binkis as a tool, and in fact has transported Binkis to Mars at the tale's climax, providing the hook to our current novel.

Now it's 12 years after the 1988 events on Venus. Our protagonist this time around is an archaeologist named Jeremy Wainman. Arriving on Mars in search of the lost city of Rema-Dza, Jeremy finds a culture that was old when mankind was in the Neolithic. Employing potent biotech, the Martians are touchy, haughty and dangerous. It's only fitting and necessary that Jeremy get a native guide for his expedition. That personage turns out to be one Teyud za-Zhalt, a lethally capable female with more than a few secrets in her past. Together, they set out into the wilderness known as the Deep Beyond.

Meanwhile, the doddering current Emperor, Sajir-sa-Tomond, is facing contenders for his throne. Sajir has a certain ace up his sleeve: possession of the Terran called Binkis, and his connection to the Lords of Creation. But it might not be enough to save his hide—especially when Jeremy and Teyud, after enduring attacks and deprivations, stumble across the long-lost Invisible Crown of the Tollamune Emperors!

Retro SF fun with a contemporary gloss

The desire to re-create the frissons associated with the classics of the SF field, to recapture the "golden age of 13" thrills one felt oneself during "simpler" times upon first encountering the literature of sense of wonder, is a dangerous two-edged impulse. Blinkered by nostalgia, the writer can end up relying too much on unearned associations with past glories, creating works that can't stand on their own merits. This was the trap that the facile yet unaware Lin Carter fell into. On the other hand, if a contemporary writer can grasp the live wire that powered the older works and channel some of that essential pure ideational and emotional current into fully modern forms and concerns—well, then he or she just might succeed in evoking some of the old juicy feelings in the reader.

I'm happy to report that Stirling lands on his feet on the victorious side of that balancing act. These two works manage to reinvigorate the planetary romance mode pioneered by Edgar Rice Burroughs and perfected by Leigh Brackett without becoming campy or cheesy or inauthentic.

But it must be noted that, even so, such books always carry with them a sense of retreat from the cutting edge of SF, a desire to escape to past glories rather than hack out new territory from the jungle.

That said, it's easy to admire Stirling's accomplishments here. He lays out his premise intriguingly and with just enough backstory before leaping into his fully formed alternate history. (He does not neglect to include changes in Earth culture as well as his exotic locales.) His conceptions of Venus and Mars hew to the Burroughs/Brackett templates while also incorporating neat speculations of his own, as well as more accurate science. No egg-laying Dejah Thoris here, and in fact the sex between Jeremy and Teyud is one of the more affecting parts of the tale. (Deeper characterization is one plus from current SF methods.)

As we know from his past books, Stirling can write a hell of an action scene, and both books are replete with such. He utilizes melodrama and cliffhangers in a more sparing and mature way than his predecessors, while still generating matinee-serial suspense. He's proud of SF's pulpy past, while cognizant of how far the genre has come. And finally, he opens out his conception at the end of this novel to something approaching the dimensions of Robert Charles Wilson's latest.

If you're tired of reading noirish dystopias and yearn for the days of sword fights conducted among living chess pieces, you couldn't do better than Stirling.