he first two chapters of this new Jack Vance novel recap the events of his previous book, Ports of Call (1998), of which this is a direct continuation. As Vance explains in a short preface, he originally intended the tale to be encompassed by a single set of covers, but found it spilling out into two volumes.
Myron Tany, a young man recently finished with his higher education, originally went to space as the nominal pilot of a space yacht owned by his eccentric and capricious aunt, Hester Lajoie. A tiff caused Dame Hester to strand Myron on a nowhere world. Luckily he found swift employment with the trading ship Glicca. The Glicca was owned by Capt. Adair Maloof and crewed by Isel Wingo and Fay Schwatzendale, two lively yet often opposed personalities. The three soon formed close bonds with Myron, and they began to encounter a series of adventures as they plied their course from star to star. A band of odd pilgrims became their passengers; they rescued a family from murderous shamans (causing Myron to fall in love with daughter Tibbet); and they gave passage to a mountebank named Moncrief and his troupe of actors: beautiful female triplets and their ugly crone guardians.
As the new book opens, the Glicca has landed on the world named Fluter, at the town named Coro-Coro. There, the pilgrims disembark, for the Glicca is not heading to the ultimate destination of their pilgrimage. This leaves Capt. Maloof free to pursue a personal quest. His mother has been more or less kidnapped by a charming rogue named Loy Tremaine. Maloof has reason to believe Tremaine and his captive are present on Fluter. He is intent on rescuing her. With Myron's help, he begins the detective work necessary to track down the pair. Wingo and Schwatenzdale, as well as Moncrief, are offstage for this portion of the book, which occupies half the text. Eventually, after some danger and dering-do, Maloof succeeds in his mission. But it does not bring him what he desires most: the elusive feeling of "lurulu," a poignant, indefinable emotion of harmony and completion.
The Glicca continues its voyage, and now the plot revolves around Moncrief and his troupe. After some sly trading on the world of Star Home that will enrich all the spacemen, the vessel puts in at Blenkinsop. There, at the majestic theater known as the Trevanian, Moncrief plans to stage his masterpiece. But all does not go according to his wishes. Again departing in haste, the Glicca makes a succession of stops—the last of which brings Myron face to face with his aunt, in a confrontation that might bring the young man his own brand of "lurulu"—or not.
Quests are their own reward
This stirring book brings to a satisfactory completion the lingering themes and subplots set up in Ports of Call, but it does so in a somewhat perfunctory manner. One gets the impression that for Vance, the end of any journey is never as alluring as the stops along the way. The long-awaited reunion between Myron and his presumptuous aunt, as well as the settling of his courtship with Tibbet, all occur within the final 10 pages of the book. Likewise, the long setups with the pilgrims and Moncrief reach their ends rather peremptorily as well. But then again, perhaps these anticlimactic denouements reflect a vision of the way reality has of leaving us more bewildered than satisfied. The promised state of lurulu is seldom achieved, and the book's ending—which opens the stage for new adventures in place of any steady, safe and boring lifestyle—further emphasizes that the quest is its own reward.
But even granted any unshapeliness to the tale, what Vance presents along the way more than makes up for the narrative fallings-off. The master's way with exotica has never been stronger. The seemingly endless richness of ingenious detail he provides—even the most minor character is given full dimensionality—is at a par with all his classic works. Consider just the world of Star Home, with its carpet-weaving nomads who roam their world with their houses atop giant elephantlike creatures. Lesser writers would have milked this for a complete novel, whereas in Vance's hands it's merely one of a dozen cultures explored.
Vance's favorite motifs—the irrationality of human customs; the wide range of possible human behaviors; the lure of hearth versus the lure of the open road—all come in for vivid depiction here. His brio for life—the deluxe tapestry of foods and clothing deployed, the crew's fondness for beer and drinking in general—all conjure up a sense of the inexhaustibility of the cosmos. As always, Vance's books convince the reader that life is worth living, with heroism and bravery rewarded, if not always immediately or without setbacks.
Of course, Vance's signature nomenclature is just as sharp as ever. For instance, only he would have the boldness to recast the name of a famous death camp—Treblinka—into the name of a young girl, and make us buy it. But Vance's litany of perfect names has prepped us to accept such a move.
Perhaps the strongest element of this book, however, is the friendship among the four space travelers. Like characters out of some Jerome K. Jerome novel, they exhibit an easy camaraderie that draws the reader in. Vance employs a multivalent point of view, so that neither Myron nor Maloof nor the other two is ever totally the sole hero. Accompanying these easygoing, bighearted wanderers across the Gaean Reach through these pages is the next best thing to signing onboard the Glicca itself.
