Nutshell: assorted losers use the always already imminent destruction of the Earth as an excuse for grave breaches of sense & decency; sadly, the destruction of this Earth is not presented herein.Though the volume designates a metonym by which the setting stands for a particular subgenre, the setting here is incidental rather than intrinsic to the narratives; the setting predominates conceptually for readers, but is really mere window-dressing for the actual stories. By contrast, the dying of the sun in Wolfe's The Book of the New Sun et seq. is central to the narrative (though the opening batteries may initially appear to be upjumped vancianisms). By further contrast, the brief hints of a dead far future in Wells' The Time Machine contain more setting-substantial narrative content, and more menace, than what we have here. I'd expect, when the sun starts to burn out, to see radiological problems, agricultural disruptions, and so on. The economics of a dying earth should be stark and alien.Rather than arising out of the setting, the stories presented are variations of cynical wayfarers seeking to obtain their maintenance or increase their advantages.Some have described sections of the book as picaresque, especially the Cugel sections. My Harmon & Holman tells me that the picaresque novel has seven elements: chronicle of a rogue's life; rogue is "low," "loose," and "menial"; chronicle is episodic; no character development; realistic mode of narration; interaction with all social classes; and rogue lacks actual criminality. Cursory reflection will demonstrate that, whereas parts of the writings here evidence several of these items, at no point do all cohere. Cugel is certainly a low, loose, & menial rogue, engaged in Eyes of the Overworld in loosely connected episodes (the second Cugel volume is less loose, though still somewhat episodic). He is however a horrible criminal: many frauds & impersonations, burglary, theft, armed robbery, human trafficking, battery, murder, coerced sex, kidnapping, piracy, antiquities trafficking, dereliction of duty leading to the destruction of an entire town, maiestas, dishonest trade practices, pandering, and so on. The narration is not realistic, of course. And there is what might be considered character development for Cugel, such as when he uncharacteristically gives in to "quixotic folly" in order to aid a companion (260). It's not obvious if there is interaction with all social classes, though it is a varied cast. (Part of the problem with this collection is that setting really is not developed, so it's hard to tell if the land is owned by feudal lords, or sorcerers, or communists, or whatever.)It is accordingly safe to conclude that Cugel, at least, is no picaroon. The titular characters in the first part are also wanderers generally--but they don't meet the definition either. Neither does Rhialto, the protagonist, of sorts, of the fourth component. What these more resemble is the representation of knight errantry in Malory's Morte d'Arthur or even Spenser's Faerie Queene. We have a random assortment of wanderers seeking out their maintenance in an ill-defined fairy landscape. Were the setting more developed, into a true tolkienian secondary creation, it may not seem this way; but the piling up of proper nouns and unexplained references to persons and places far away or long ago, never to appear again, contributes more to a static fey otherland than a rigorous and dynamic secondary world. That's all great--but it therefore resembles the setting of Arthur more than anything else. Yeah, we have no actual knights here; it's a mix of high tech and seeming sorcery; oddities, creatures, monsters; space travel, time travel, interdimensional travel; nerdly losers seizing women; sinister women seizing nerdly losers in return; anthropophagic rat-things; giant worm livestock; eye-stealing thugs; &c. Encounters are basically random: I expected Sir Breunis Sans Pite to charge from underbrush, smite upon the left hand and on the right, until blood brast from his ears and from his eyes, until he retreated into a malodorous fen. Last volume should likely be read first, as it has an introductory essay that describes the setting a bit. (It also appears to be first by setting chronology.) The first couple stories in volume I involve the attempts of second-rate sorcerers to "create humanity in my vats" (7), which should be read in pari materia with Mary Shelley. Of course, that our magician first "formed a girl of exotic design" (13) should not come as a surprise. A rival magician tries to take the product many times (17). The rival can make "a perfect body," but is unable to make "the brain ordered and pliant" (19). It's the ultimate dream of antisocial nerds: perfectly-bodied women with perfectly pliant minds. Narrative presents a number of missed chances. For instance, Cugel acquires a solitary "eye of the overworld," which allows him to see "a wonder of exaltation," though "concurrently his left eye showed the reality" of the shithole in which the chapter was located (149). Dude removes the differential eye and the narrative proceeds--but it could've been a kickass sustained commentary, reality v. the view of reality from the overworld. Ugly default in the fourth volume, wherein the protagonist and allies unite to prevent "the final triumph of the female race" (595), though it seems the political system, "a hitherto unclassified dream," features "all possessions are in common, and greed is unknown," "toil is kept at a minimum and shared equally among all" (593). Obviously something that needs stomped out, this gynocommunism.Despite all of the nastiness, there are lots of nifty details, cool turns of phrase, and clever dialogue--all very strong. Characteristic is the catalogue of teratoids (248) and the curator's Index Major (128). Hard to overemphasize these strengths--when it's good, it's very good. Probably should therefore be considered an important contribution to speculative fiction, despite its weaknesses.Recommended for those who are polyandrous by habit, persons who stimulate the vitality of the sun, and readers who traverse the refuse heap of the universe.
The problem with many kinds of works of real genius is that they live somewhere on the edge of human rhetorical and cognitive space: if a person comes up with something truly novel, then its very novelty makes it difficult to talk about. This problem, as it pertains to Tales of the Dying Earth, is exacerbated by the resemblance, however superficial, that these stories bear to less interesting kinds of literature, and the tendency of the writing to avoid, so to speak, direct eye contact.This particular collection of Jack Vance's work is also burdened by several short stories which precede the main events, two novellas about Cugel the Clever, which don't stand well on their own.The bulk of this book consists of `The Eyes of the Overworld` and `Cugel's Saga`, two stories which follow the fortunes and misfortunes (mostly the latter) of Cugel, a man of "many vicissitudes" as he cons his way across the surreal landscape of The Dying Earth, which we gather to be our planet, eons in the future. Nihilism suffuses both novels, especially the first: everyone is criminal, but laconic in their criminality, and even the structure of the plot has an uncanny obsession with the immediate, with the narrative almost reflexively picaresque. Characters sometimes pause, mid swindle, to gaze up at the sun, which has momentarily gone out, only to resume their petty dealings when it sputters back to life. What emerges from all this is a subtle, but canny, sketch of the obstinacy of the human will to collapse under even the most powerful assaults of the universe on the meaningfulness of action.Cugel's Saga is more upbeat in this vein, becoming a series of almost meditative episodes where Cugel sometimes even manages to find a kind of pleasure in work and the mere contemplation of the bizarre landscapes of a world at its very end. Vance has a facility for language which is used strangely, if admirably, throughout the book. The dialog is a series of highly formal, sly backhanded insults, and there is a real sense of strange presence to the land and landscapes. After we spend enough time with Cugel, the other stories in this volume suddenly make more sense as strange, sad stories of the human condition.In short, I recommend giving these books a read.
Do You like book Tales Of The Dying Earth (2000)?
Should you read it? Meh.While I consider myself a Vance fan, the Dying Earth left me cold. There are some wonderfully inventive ideas here, great characters, and Vance's prose is as well-written as always. The settings, and everything around the stories, are awesome.But the protagonists (at least for the large sections about Cugel and Rhialto) are apathetic. When I compare someone like Cugel or Rhialto to some of Vance's other protagonists (Sklar Hast from "Blue World" or Paddy Blackthorn from "The Five Gold Bands", two of my favourite Vance stories), they seem like pale copies of fictional "real" men. Cugel, especially, made me think of the protagonist of Burroughs "The Mucker", except without the growth.For me, that's the point of the "Dying Earth" tales. We, as a race, have devolved, to the point that a truly heroic man cannot exist in this time and place. We have all become the base, self-serving, people usually placed in the roles of adversaries or assistants in the better tales. There are rare bright spots still (in the first section, at least), but they are fewer and further between.
—Adam
QUESTION: what is a writer to do when he can write neither characters nor plot?ANSWER: he writes a plotless/misogynistic/paper-thin-character-driven (driven, AH! Dragged, is more like it!) “succession of boring sentences” (sorry, guys, can’t bring myself to write “stories” here) weighed down by stilted dialogue and never-ending description of mountains, rivers, rocks, trees, grass, people, etc., all this using as many pompous and pretentious words as possible so that us, innocent readers that we are, can drool over how smart he is. Sorry, Mr. Vance, but Umberto Eco you most definitely were not. IN SHORT: a total waste of my precious reading time. And I'm being nice here.
—Olivier
What can one possibly say about a book that almost singlehandedly defined an entire sub-genre of SF and fantasy? Jack Vance is a legendary author who needs no introduction, and this is his most quintessential work. Even though I prefer some of his other books more (e.g., Lyonesse or Planet of Adventure), the Dying Earth quartet is doubtless a masterpiece. It's whimsical, opulent and darkly magical, much like the world at the end of time in which these stories take place. People who don't have an appreciation of irony and baroque language may want to skip this one; the rest of you, rejoice--you've just discovered a treasure.* * *Džek Vens, legendarno ime u krugovima poznavalaca zlatnog doba naučne fantastike, dobitnik je svih najvećih žanrovskih nagrada i priznanja za svoje književno stvaralaštvo, uključujući i prestižnu Grand Master Award za životno delo (titula koju deli samo 30-ak najznačajnijih autora spekulativne fikcije). Međutim, iz nekih nepojmljivih razloga njegov rad nikad nije prevođen na srpski jezik. Vens kroz svoju raskošnu prozu koristi čitavo bogatstvo engleske leksike i stoga definitivno nije lak autor za prevođenje; čitati njega na srpskom bilo bi jednako čitanju Šekspira na srpskom (i ne, poređenje nije sasvim arbitrarno -- Vens je po mnogo čemu Šekspirov žanrovski pandan). Možda je to jedan od razloga njegove zanemarenosti na ovim prostorima, i možda je, na kraju krajeva, tako i bolje. Čitaoci koji se odvaže na lutanja van granica domaćih publikacija sigurno će, pre ili kasnije, u moru zanemarenih i previđenih pisaca (posebno žanrovskih pisaca), otkriti i Džeka Vensa, koji je u toku svoje 60-godišnje spisateljske karijere bio zaslužan za neka od najvećih dostignuća na polju SF i Fantasy žanra. Istina, Vens je izbacio i nekoliko osrednjih dela, kao i par promašaja, ali to je zbilja minorna packa u karijeri pisca aktivnog više od pola veka, pisca koji iza sebe ima preko 70 naslova, od kojih je većina konzistentno natprosečnog (a nekoliko njih čak vrhunskog) kvaliteta. Svejedno, mora se priznati činjenica da Vens poseduje vrlo karakterističan stil koji se neće dopasti svakome -- njegov fokus na ekscentrične kulture i bizarna društvena uređenja na uštrb karakterizacije i zapleta možda će zbuniti neke čitaoce, dok će njegova sklonost ka formalnim, arhaičnim i ironičnim dijalozima možda odbiti druge -- ali oni koji vole divlje uzlete mašte, ciničan smisao za humor i jedinstvenu eleganciju jezičkog izraza, sigurno neće biti razočarani. Ipak, nemojte mi verovati na reč; bolje potražite neku knjigu Džeka Vensa i sami proverite šta znači biti neprikosnoveni majstor žanra. Majstor na čijem su se oltaru klanjali Martin, Gejmen, Pračet, Simons, Vulf, Legvinova, Zelazni, Herbert itd. Samo zapamtite da se Vens ne čita zbog slojevitih likova i komplikovanih zapleta; on se čita zbog verbalnih doskočica, melodičnog stila, nepresušne imaginacije; zbog čudesnih svetova neprevaziđene lepote, neobičnih običaja koji u njima vladaju, i još neobičnijih individua koje ih nastanjuju; zbog pikaresknih pustolovina koje pod svetlucavom površinom često kriju mračne i oštre društvene satire. I budite spremni na to da će vam mnogi od gore navedenih pisaca, nakon čitanja Vensa, delovati kao bledunjavi amateri. Premda je Džek Vens danas najpoznatiji po crnohumornoj i labavo povezanoj Dying Earth tetralogiji (čija dva središnja romana govore o Kugelu Promućurnom, verovatno najnespretnijem zlikovcu žanrovske književnosti), po meni su njegova dva ubedljivo najveća ostvarenja spektakularna Lyonesse trilogija (savršena antiteza Tolkinovom Gospodaru prestenova) i veličanstveni četvorodelni roman Planet of Adventure (briljantan omaž Berouzovom Barsum serijalu). Sva ova dela postoje u omnibus izdanjima koja se mogu relativno lako naći, a moja najtoplija preporuka se podrazumeva. Radujte se, budući čitaoci! Pred vama je kovčeg s blagom koji samo čeka da ga otvorite.(Deo neobjavljenog eseja o stvaralaštvu Džeka Vensa pisanog lani.)
—Bokeshi
