The book actually gets quite dark in its visit to the planet Terce, whose inhabitants flay the skins off of their victims (including the occasional stray tourist) to sell as materials to be used by amoral artists in a range of repulsive-sounding pieces - including a frolic of children featuring the skins of actual children arranged in Arcadian tableau. Fortunately, "simple, earnest blandness" is nowhere else to be found in this book, as each society is often as bizarre, insular, and sometimes as threatening as any of the most memorable Vancean locales. Although I missed the pungency of past protagonists - Myron is as uninteresting as his name - the intriguing set of supporting characters more than make up for Myron's simple, earnest blandness. There is no driving narrative to speak of. Ports of Call finds my favorite author at his most relaxed, idly steering his passionless hero through a series of fascinating trips across multiple planets. Perhaps the last book/second part will feel different? I guess I will see.
But as the second part arrived 6 years later, I may as well review this one separately. Although I miss Jack Vance's penultimate novel is really just the first part of his last novel. Jack Vance's penultimate novel is really just the first part of his last novel.
0 kommentar(er)
