Some 40 years later, van Vogt sought to return to this quintessential universe with Null-A Three (1985). But by then his capacities were diminished, and there are solid rumors that he did not even write the entire manuscript. The third volume remains a sport that damages or eludes continuity.

So, finally, now appears what could be the true third volume in the series, only from another mind, that of John C. Wright, whose own books—particularly his Golden Age series—possess a certain van Vogtian flair and heft. The book absorbs various plot points from Null-A Three but draws most of its lifeblood from the first two books.

Gosseyn currently exists in two bodies: Gosseyn Two and Gosseyn Three. The former, and arguably our main point of view, is busy in the home galaxy, trying to tidy up the mess left by power-mad Emperor Enro, who almost destroyed civilization and is now imprisoned on a hidden planetoid. Gosseyn Three is on a remote mission to a distant dead galaxy that might hold some secrets regarding the origin and fate of our own. But when Gosseyn Two is charged with murdering an old acquaintance, he is forced to drop his plans to spread Null-A methods to benighted worlds and to fight for his life.

Still learning all the aspects of the many powers conferred by his unique brain structure, Gosseyn finds himself merging with his doppelganger when that fellow meets his far-away death. Now they are Gosseyn Four, and they must battle an escaped Enro, who has leagued himself with the Ydd, primordial beings from a previous cosmic cycle. Gosseyn Four will bop frantically across a dozen weird venues, planets and pocket universes and even realms outside all time and space, always in danger of his life, meeting endless variations of himself (Gosseyn Ten Thousand, Aleph-Gosseyn) as he seeks to put a damaged universe in order, to literally give birth to the first sane cosmos: the Null-A Continuum.

What goes around comes around

Generally, "sequels by other hands" have an exceedingly mixed track record and reputation, tending to come down in the realm of noble (or venal) failures. Just last year, van Vogt himself experienced one such with Kevin Anderson's Slan Hunter, a mixed bag that gave a modicum of fun but seemed, in retrospect, canonically unnecessary. Is this the case here as well? Happily, very happily, I report that it is not. Maybe because the Null-A books still demanded further conceptual extension in a way that Slan did not. Maybe because Wright's worldview and literary goals and tone and style are all closer to AEVV's than Anderson's were. And maybe because Wright's motivation, as he discloses in an introduction, is "to write the sequel to the books prized above all others in youth." Whatever the reasons, this homage to AEVV rocks like the original, if not harder.

In my review of Slan Hunter I said: "Any such project must do four things: match the voice and tone of the original; don't betray the characters; extend the plot and concept; and avoid unnecessary retcons." Let's measure Wright's accomplishments.

In a way I could not have imagined possible, Wright nails van Vogt's style. The semi-awkward, semi-mystical constructions—"'It is a condition the living process cannot tolerate to be reminded of,'" says perpetual love interest Patricia Hardie—are actually concealing a much more polished prose perfectly suited to the off-the-wall action and gonzo-serious ideations. Wright is channeling AEVV full-bore here, in a 20-decimal-point way. But even more astonishingly, Wright has maintained a 1940s sensibility and period charm that also manages to slyly incorporate post-World War II science. Mention of such modern concepts as "Hawking radiation" go hand in hand with an instance such as Gosseyn mailing a penny postcard by spacemail in a ploy to establish a "similarity" destination. The guns still feature "electron tubes," but somehow this becomes postmodern SF.

I find all of Wright's versions of the characters to be spot-on, and he in fact gives them somewhat more depth than their original creator. And any retcons bear the hallmark of being convincingly implicit in the original material.

But it's in the matter of extending van Vogt's themes and atmosphere and ideas that Wright really pulls off a stunner. (There are also references to other of AEVV's series herein.) This damn book is stuffed with enough bewildering weirdness that Gosseyn has to grow a third brain just to survive—as will the reader, I expect. Nothing coheres on a purely logical level—no more than the plot of the earlier books did. But it all hangs together in a symbolic, intuitive way.

One of Gosseyn's methods for opening up his consciousness is to take a hot bath and enter a hypnagogic state. In fact, one of the many climaxes occurs in just such a setting. I advise the reader to do the same, at least figuratively. Immerse yourself in the scented, salted waters of this novel and let the good stuff fill your pores without attempting to rationalize away the magic of Wright's masterly reinhabiting of van Vogt's universe.