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The first (and far better) half of the book focuses on the bond between Amiante and Ghyl. Amiante is a skilled artisan whose work is highly valued, but his lackadaisical and somewhat rebellious attitude keeps him from participating fully as a "proper" member of a strictly regimented society--a world in which any form of automation or duplication (cameras, molding, assembly-line manufacturing, etc.) is strictly forbidden in order to maintain the quality and uniqueness of handmade goods. Amiante imparts his aloofness to his son Ghyl, who shares his father's taste for individualism and subversion. Goaded by seditious friends and angered by his father's ultimate punishment, Ghyl hatches a scheme to leave his native planet; the plan goes awry but allows Ghyl to explore the universe and discover its history and secrets.
Vance aims his barbs at a wide range of targets: the welfare state, capitalism, totalitarianism, religion, socialism, class warfare, unions, and more. And that's the problem with the last 100 pages: the novel is far too short for such a scattershot approach, and the "message" often gets lost in a series of quick resolutions and easy aphorisms. Planets are briefly visited, characters come and go, and secrets are revealed. While on Earth, for example, Ghyl spends a month (fewer than four pages) with Flora, "a slim blond Norwegian girl," but the reason for her sudden introduction and equally sudden disappearance is mystifying. Through contrived coincidences (e.g., running into a previous acquaintance on faraway planet) and relatively effortless disclosures, Ghyl learns "surprising" truths about the structure of his native society. The resolution of the plot and the revelation of the book's secrets are actually quite clever, so it's doubly sad that Vance seems to be rushing through the story, tying up loose ends without either making them all that believable or giving the reader much of a chance to consider what they mean.
"Emphyrio" is, of course, meant to be an allegory, and I suspect that Vance deliberately modeled his "myth" as fable (like, say, "Animal Farm") rather than full-blown epic (like "Dune"). His nightmarish universe and imaginative vision is far too big, though, to be satisfactorily presented in 200 pages. As a result, "Emphyrio" at times seems more a skeleton of a brilliant novel than a fully realized masterpiece.
I, too, agree with the critic who mentioned the discord between the two halves of the book. The first (better) half focuses on the societal injustices and the rights of Man. The latter part IS rushed; it seems that Vance had to change tack after the hijacking of the Lords. It reminds me of Twain's "Huckleberry Finn," (yes, I'm serious) in that regard--Twain faced the same dilemma 2/3rds of the way through that book (while Jim and Huck are on the raft). Does anyone else agree with this observation?
I highly recommend this book. Find a copy, and grab any copy of ANY Jack Vance book that you come across.
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