Posted by John Robinson on July 28, 1998 at 18:11:52:
In Reply to: Analog review posted by David Pierce on July 27, 1998 at 22:40:41:
Review is by Tom Easton and he seems to dislike the book for many of the reasons you, I and everyone else love Vance. It's obvious nobody told the reviewers that this was first of two books. Shame on Tor. Some of what Easton says -
"Jack Vance - born in 1916 - is one of the Grand Old Men of science fiction. In his time, he created some of the field's seminal tropes, meaning that he has been much imitated. Unfortunately, though he's still writing, he seems to have joined the ranks of the Vance-imitators. His latest, Ports of Call, has no claim at all on seminality. What marks it instead is something that has always been present in Vance's works and has unfortunately dominated his lesser works, of which this is surely one - a distinct preciosity of names and manners and folkways.
-------- this is a running-in-place novel. There's plenty of scenery, but there's no real movement, and the reader winds up wishing she hadn't bothered.
Or is there a sequel in the works? There wasn't a hint on the bound galleys TOR sent me, but perhaps the original manuscript was too big and TOR chopped it in half. If so, we will soon realize that Ports of Call is only half a book, which would explain much.
But it won't make the reader any happier.
: So there is apparently a "harsh dismissal" of "Ports of Call" in the current Analog. Negative reviews have also appeared in other mags. Haven't read the Analog, but the reviewers I've scanned fail to see that Jack is writing in a free new way that's as wry as ever and lacks not for plot, and contains episodes of emotional growth. "Night Lamp" perhaps foreshadowed Jack's interest in more emotional characters, though really most of his novels delve into the motivations of souls ("Wyst," as but one example). "Ports of Call" is a sheer joy to read, and some of the names and situations it contains have made me laugh so hard I banged my head and spilled drinks on precious papers. What was it this time: "Sprang hoppers?" (Not certain if that is exact name.) Jack's description of them and their abyss gave me moments of pleasure the likes of which only Jack Vance books can produce. In "Ports of Call" Jack's improvizational word-skills are displayed with mastery. I'd recommend the book to anyone looking a fine novel-reading experience.