he world of Majipoor is inhabited by a host of sentient races—four-armed Skandars, the hammer-headed, three-eyed Liiman, Hjorts, Vroon and the planet's downtrodden native race, the
shapeshifting Metamorphs. Benevolently ruling this cosmopolitan mix is a human government whose powers are divided among a collection of semi-mythical figureheads: the King of Dreams, a labyrinth-dwelling Pontifex and a priestess who lives on the secluded Isle of Sleep. The official head of state is the Coronal, who dwells atop sprawling Castle Mount, rarely seeing or being seen by his billions of subjects.
Lord Valentine has only recently become Coronal, and as he makes a first grand tour of his domains, repressive new laws and taxes emanate from Castle Mount. One of his newest anti-alien measures forces a troupe of Skandar jugglers to hire three humans. As a result, they take on a young man with no memories, a pleasant demeanor, quick hands and the auspicious name of Valentine.
Though an apprentice juggler's lifestyle appeals greatly to the muddled but easygoing Valentine—especially as he begins to fall in love with another member of the troupe—his sleep is disturbed by nightmares, visions of warring brothers and difficulties on faraway Castle Mount. Journeying through the vast forests and spectacular natural wonders abundant on Majipoor, he and his colleagues face a steady stream of mishaps, assassination attempts and strange encounters. In time Valentine must face an unpalatable reality: Something has gone terribly wrong at the Coronal's castle, and it is somehow his responsibility to set matters to rights.
A world of splendors tormented
Lord Valentine's Castle is a heady blend of rigorous SF worldbuilding and the poetic sensibility of fantasy fiction. Author Robert Silverberg has created a world long settled by spacefaring powers, aliens and humans alike, whose technological prowess is losing its edge. High-tech devices like antigravity floaters and weather control devices are an accepted part of life on Majipoor, but ordinary people are apt to regard them as something magical. The pattern of life for most citizens is far more medieval: Bioengineered mounts plow fields and pull carriages while minstrels scratch out a living by following the time-honored custom of moving from town to town and hoping for friendly crowds.
Valentine's journey is a long one, a tour through a series of magnificent environments. Fields of predatory plants give way to impossibly wide rivers, chalk-cliffed islands and unforgettable deserts. Silverberg's prose is unrelentingly dreamlike—no accident given that on Majipoor, dreams rule the minds of the great and humble alike. Caught in a nightmare that reaches beyond his sleeping hours to control his real-world choices, Valentine too is enshrouded in layers of mystery. Though he recovers his memories and sense of purpose, he never quite comes into focus. Instead he is washed toward a confrontation at Castle Mount much as a fallen leaf rides the current of a river.
Despite its ethereal beauty, Majipoor is no utopia. Humans sit firmly atop its political food chain, while the Metamorphs are at its base, dispossessed of their ancestral lands and serving as scapegoats for all society's ills. Using this situation, Silverberg casts light on a variety of pertinent social concerns. Lord Valentine's world is a peaceful place whose citizens enjoy a significant degree of freedom. Even so, racism, imperialism and class differences have by no means been vanquished. This compassionate and clear-eyed portrait of a reasonably decent society that could, with inspired leadership, pursue a higher ideal of justice is what makes Lord Valentine's Castle a novel worth revisiting.
