Jack Vance’s Suldrun’s Garden, the first book in his Lyonesse series, opens with a map, followed by a family tree, followed, in turn, by a “preliminary” that details the magical Elder Isles that existed west of Europe at the dawn of the Christian Era. These primers establish a few things right away: first, we’re dealing with epic fantasy, the sort that requires family trees and maps that whimsically ignore the finer points of geography and political organization; second, we’re dealing with Vance’s own epic fantasy, which reads more like an overeducated philosophy major telling a bawdy joke than a stuffy Cambridge don struggling to recreate a proper Old English ramble.
Language is Vance’s greatest strength. His writing is lyrical, verbose, and long-winded to the point of hilarity. This ornate and elaborate style found its full strength in Vance’s blackly comedic science fantasy tale Cugel’s Saga where, at the end of time, the last humans wanted only indolence and cheap thrills, preferably at the expense of their fellows. The writing and dialogue evoked a world of foppish, over-refined dandies possessed of more erudition than decency or common sense. Vance’s sardonic and witty style is what makes Suldrun’s Garden unique among fantasy tales.
Thus, the writing. How’s the story?
It’s good. The story begins with an extended opening about the life of the young Princess Suldrun of Lyonesse. Written by any other author, this opening would be an infuriating pace-breaker; with Vance, it is a delightful opportunity to learn about his characters and world while growing to love his writing. In time the plot picks up. Briefly, Prince Aillas of Troicinet is sent with his elder brother to rally help for his father’s cause. During the journey he is cast into the sea (likely by his brother), where he washes up on the shores of Lyonesse, a nation opposed to Troicinet. There, he meets the lonely Princess Suldrun. Thus follows romance, betrayal, tragedy, thrilling escape, and all the building blocks of fine adventure fantasy.
Halfway through, the story suddenly shifts its attention and expands from the shores of Lyonesse and one princess’ sad life to the entirety of the Isles, with numerous plots and sub-plots playing out simultaneously. In the tradition of The King of Elfland’s Daughter, the story’s focus shifts suddenly from Prince Aillas to his fairy-raised son Dhrun, and we are treated to a rendition of Finding Nemo with more evil wizards and questionable humor.
Of course, there is more to Suldrun’s Garden than the mere bones of the story. There is a certain unmistakable whimsy to Vance’s world that matches his writing. Though the story is epic in scope, the individual events, especially when Aillas’ son Dhrun appears and sets out into the world, read more like a fairy-tale. There are mirrors that tell secrets, plots of wizard against wizard, trickster-fairies, mystical booby-traps, sudden reversals of fortune, unlawful coronations, and all the classic tropes, always told with the slightest of smiles. Vance is evidently having a great deal of fun, and it is hard not to follow his mood. Often the stories are dark and twisted in a way that would make Grimm flinch: if an ogre who uses shrinking potions to rape pubescent girls troubles you, it may be best to seek out lighter fare. Vance’s breezy writing style makes the atrocities perpetrated by the villains all the more chilling.
Though much of Suldrun’s Garden is “mere” fairy-tale fantasy, there are also touches of the peculiar and alien, more familiar to readers of Vance’s Dying Earth stories. The descriptions of other worlds are particularly incredible, with a long-winded dreamy madness that recommends itself well to games like Nobilis and Cosmic-Level Unknown Armies. At one point, Shimrod the magician finds himself in the reality of Irerly, a world of sentient mountains defined by peculiar sensations, among them, toice and gliry, which are outlined as well as can be imagined. Here, a mountain attempts to summarize the local philosophy:
Allow me to explain a few aspects of our beloved land. As a basis you must understand that we subscribe to three competing religions: The Doctrine of Arcoid Clincture; the Shrouded Macrolith, which I personally consider a fallacy; and the noble Derelictionary Tocsin. These differ in significant detail.
Vance’s world, like the setting of Anderson’s Three Hearts and Three Lions, bears superficial resemblance to a simple fairy-tale world, but rapidly unfolds as something far more rich, grand, and innovative. Attend to its subtleties and be rewarded.
Despite the unexpectedly complex world and magnificent writing style, Suldrun’s Garden is not without its flaws. The characters’ near-identical speech patterns, wherein a nine-year-old boy, a witch with chicken features, and the aforementioned Irerlish mountain sound largely identical, can pose problems of identification and delineation. Further, the plot is a bit fractured, and though the individual tales are delightful enough, they often fail to form a coherent whole, leaving the reader (or at least, this reviewer) flailing. Though no doubt the reviewer’s faculties are limited, he did have some trouble keeping track of the many minor characters. Of particular difficulty was the antagonist, Carfilhiot the lesser magician, who emerges so subtly from the background to take a prominent place in the story that it comes as a surprise when the novel suddenly revolves around his misdeeds. Shimrod the magician, who later takes on the role of the quack Dr. Fidelius (“Thaumaturge, Pan-Sophist, Mountebank”), also possesses a constantly shifting story-importance quotient. For those readers who prefer to know which characters are worth attending to and which can be considered secondary or tertiary, this feature of Suldrun’s Garden can prove vexing.
Finally, Vance’s writing style is insidious. Any game designers, novelists, would-be writers, journalists, or keepers of diaries would do well to resist attending to their own projects within three hours of reading Vance, lest they be infected by his style. I only refrain from base mimicry at the utmost cost in concentration and diligence, and even I feel myself slipping into vulgar witticisms. See, there I go again. Dammit.
Despite its faults (most of which can be avoided with the warnings contained in this review, and a suitable attention to detail), Suldrun’s Garden is an excellent fantasy novel, combining the best parts of several fantasy sub-genres with Vance’s own strange visions. Though its style sometimes overwhelms its substance, the depth is certainly there, and for those more interested in watching a gifted writer contort the boundaries of English and set the language to dancing, Vance’s style can be joy enough.
