Posted by Robert Ruork on December 30, 1997 at 17:07:46:
In Reply to: Vance is the Thackeray of sf posted by Mike Berro on December 29, 1997 at 20:27:37:
: I received a copy of the proof the The Demon Princes Volume two, and in the enclosed letter from the publisher, there's a quote from the Washington Post Book World: "[Jack Vance is] the Thackeray of sf." Not having read Thackeray, I can only assume this is a compliment. Anyone care to comment?
: ---Mike
:: Mike, the following is from a May, 1865 Review of Thackeries Vanity Fair, and the second paragraph perhaps explains WP Book World's quote (I hope this reply is not too long)
Robert.
A review by Edwin Percy Whipple from the May, 1865, issue of
The Atlantic Monthly
In the novels of Thackeray, essay is so much mixed up with narrative, and comment with characterization, that they can hardly be thoroughly
appreciated in poor editions. The temptation to skip is almost irresistible, when wisdom can be purchased only at the expense of eyesight. We are
therefore glad to welcome the commencement of a new edition of his writings, over whose pages the reader can linger at his pleasure, and quietly enjoy
the subtleties of humor and observation which in previous perusals he overlooked. The present volumes, published by the Harpers, are among the most
tasteful and comely products of the Cambridge University Press. Printed in large type of tinted paper, elegantly bound in green cloth and with a
fac-simile of the author's autograph on the cover, every copy has the appearance of being a presentation copy. No English edition of Vanity Fair is
equal to this American one in respect either to convenience of form or beauty of mechanical execution. The illustrations are numerous, well engraved,
and embody the writer's own conceptions of his scenes and characters, and are often deliciously humorous.
Vanity Fair, though it does not include the whole extent of Thackeray's genius, is the most vigorous exhibition of its leading characteristics. In freshness
of feeling, elasticity of movement, and unity of aim, it is favorably distinguished from its successors, which too often give the impression of being
composed of successive accumulations of incidents and persons, that drift into the story on no principle of artistic selection and combination. The style,
while it has the raciness of individual peculiarity and the careless case of familiar gossip, is as clear, pure, and flexible as if its sentences had been
subjected to repeated revision, and every pebble which obstructed its lucid and limpid flow had been laboriously removed. The characterization is
almost perfect of its kind. Becky Sharp, the Marquis of Steyne, Sir Pitt Crawley and the whole Crawley family, Amelia, the Osbornes, Major Dobbin,
not to mention others, are as well known to most cultivated people as their most intimate acquaintances in the Vanity Fair of the actual world. It has
always seemed to us that Mr. Osborne, the father of George, a representation of the most hateful phase of English character, is one of the most vividly
true and life-like of all the delineations in the book, and more of a typical personage than even Becky or the Marquis of Steyne. Thackeray's theory of
characterization proceeds generally on the assumption that the acts of men and women are directed not by principle, but by instincts, selfish or
amiable--that toleration of human weakness is possible only by lowering the standard of human capacity and obligation--and that the preliminary
condition of an accurate knowledge of human character is distrust of ideals and repudiation of patterns. This view is narrow, and by no means covers all
the facts of history and human life, but what relative truth it has is splendidly illustrated in Vanity Fair. There is not a person in the book who excites the
reader's respect, and not one who fails to excite his interest. The morbid quickness of the author's perceptions of the selfish element, even in his few
amiable characters, is a constant source of surprise. The novel not only has no hero, but implies the non-existence of heroism. Yet the fascination of the
book is indisputable, and it is due to a variety of causes besides its mere exhibition of the worldly side of life. Among these, the perfect intellectual
honesty of the writer, the sad or satirical sincerity with which he gives in his evidence against human nature, is the most prominent. With all his lightness
of manner, he is essentially a witness under oath, and testifies only to what he is confident he knows. Perhaps this quality, rare not only in novel writing,
but in all writing, would not compensate for the limitation of his perceptions and the repulsiveness of much that he perceives, were it not for the peculiar
charm of his representation. It is here that the individuality of the man appears, and it presents a combination of sentiments and powers more original
perhaps than the matter of his works. Take from Vanity Fair that special element of interest which comes from Thackeray's own nature, and it would
lose the greater portion of its fascination. It is not so much what is done, as the way in which is is done, that surprises and delights; and the manner is
always inimitable, even when the matter is common.