"Ecce and Old Earth", sequel to the thunderous "Araminta Station", is actually more like two novels screwed together than a single work. The first hundred pages take us back to Cadwal, where we last saw Glawen Clattuc battling Kirdy in the waves of Deucas. Now he has the last letter from Floreste, which tells him where his father is being held. With Chilke bound by bureaucracy and Bodwyn Wook unwilling to act, Glawen is left mounting a one-man rescue mission through the steaming jungles of Ecce, battling exotic wildlife, severe weather, and the machinations of the dreaded Simonna and Spanchetta.
That part of the story is wrapped up quickly, and we then shift to Old Earth, where we find Wayness Tam intrepidly hunting for the Charter and the Grant-in-Prepetuity that together confer ownership of the entire Planet Cadwal. This is the meat of the novel. Plotwise this book is not nearly as complicated as "Araminta Station". The entertainment comes from watching the bizarre lifestyles that have developed on Earth during the inervening millenia. Here we see progress and stagnation side by side, inbred monarchs, modern artists, fusty scholars, fraudulent treasure-hunters and many more all bumping around on a planet that's gradually sinking into useless oblivion. As we expect, Vance provides each member of this eclectic cast with a unique voice and overriding personality. The result is a feast of wit as they bounce off each other:
"Kiev is like a great laboratory where reverence for poast aesthetic doctrine crashes headlong into utter contempt for the same doctrine - sometimes in the same indvidual - and the collision produces a coruscation of wonders." (p. 190)
"Countess Ottile lives in seclusion, seeing no one but doctors for herself and veterinaries for her dogs. She is said to be extremely aravicious, though she commands great wealth. There is a hint or two that she is, let us say, eccentric. When one of her dogs died, she beat the attending vertinary with her walking stick and drove him away. The veterinary seems to have been of philosophical disposition. When the journalists asked if he intended to sue, he merely shrugged and siad that both beating and biting were accepted hazards of his profession, and there the matter rested." (p. 206)
"Peace returned to Pombareales - but not for long. A few days later it became known that the collectors had all paid very large sums for doubloons stamped from lead, then plated over with a thin wash of gold. Their value was negligible. Collectors are not a fatalistic lot. Consternation gave way to outrage and fury even more intense than the previous enthusiasm." (p. 289)
I will give props to the ending, which is probably the funniest scene in the book while also being the most emotionally satisfactory - no mean feat. The story is resolved in style, though with the nausea-inducing Julian Bohost still active, we're guaranteed much more action and amusement in the final volume of the trilogy.