One should always take a particular pleasure in any tale so well crafted as to resolve nearly a hundred plot threads satisfactorily. And one should always take a great thrill in seeing seemingly minor characters take on such an immense importance and suddenly be revealed to be the single most important thread tying an epic fantasy trilogy together, too!

And not only does it take place in the mythical lands in-between England and a few of the other Isles, but it's steeped in borrowed and made-up mythology, rampant with kings and queens, three whole kingdom's worth, the land of the Fae, and the ending fate of so many heroes and well-established antagonists.

Am I seriously impressed by these three works? Hell yeah. All together, they make one of the richest near-Earth fantasy I've ever read. It's a fictional country dab in the center of the Isles, but everything else is steeped in our history and myths, but it's far from cheap. It's easily one of the deepest and best-crafted fantasies I've ever read.

Yes, there are a few that out-do it, and I'm sure we can all name them, but this one stands nearly as tall as them and should never be overlooked among all the generalized and oft-repeated and overdone photocopies of modern fantasy.

Quality is Quality, and This Is Quality. :)

And we get reunited families, a total breakdown of friendly relations, and an all-out war that destroys and rebuilds the three kingdoms. What more could anyone ask? ( )

Jack Vance is a pro. Getting to the end of this 1200-page fantasy epic was an emotional journey. The third volume can stand alone, as the best of the trilogy, where Vance let loose and indulged in his trademark brand of hilarious hijinks to the fullest extent. His world building is still cumulatively breathtaking and his imagery always gorgeous. He is a fantastic wordsmith, a practiced encyclopedia consultant, and a brilliant author who has explored his own vast and complex vision in dozens of novels revolving around the same creepy, perverted, elegant, conniving tricksters, recast as necessary, and always garbed in the most charming period attire, typically sporting wens and goiters, protuberant sacs and jiggling jowls. And those are just the human players in the production. The fairies and wefkins, wizards, spirits, and gryphs and other denizens of his fantasy empire all arrive in due course with their bags of spells and luscious attributes in tow.
He does not bother to explain magic systems or justify long stretches of historical politics in his novels, but rather, relishes the seamy textures of his enigmatic prose and depicts familiar struggles to highlight aspects of human nature. 14-year-old girls spout invectives and arguments worthy of a corrupt parish minister. Old serving maids whine and croon with the elegance of Shakespearean side characters. This is the territory of Vance, where kings and lowlifes pull equal weight, and the kingdom of men is only a struggling shire in a timeless hierarchy of universes only the author fully comprehended.

Like a traitorous magician, Vance guides you with a masterful, and devious hand through the winding, and treacherous paths of his lighthearted fantasy. Each section can be read as straight satire, or gobbled up like a poetic feast of literary invention.

While the world of Lyonesse was written in the spirit of Arthurian legends, its whimsical intelligence is in a league of its own.
( )

And the brilliant conclusion. What Vance succeeds in doing in this series is the melding of myth, folk-tales and legend into a rich, vibrant setting and a broad, epic narrative. One could easily imagine cycles of fire-side and bed-time tales about the adventures of good king Aillas and clever magician Shimrod and the wild and fey Madouc and evil King Casmir. Lots of sharp little stories where the good outsmarted the bad and won through as much with brains and boldness as well as brawn, and sometimes a dark, nasty edge would creep in, a hint of loss and tragedy to make the happy ever after that much more bitter sweet. Poor Sir Pom-Pom.

Anyway, the whole trilogy is never less than a wild and wonderful joy, even of there are inconsistencies between this and the epilogue of the first novel. Whatever happened to the faceless knight? These should be taken all in all as part of the mystery and whimsy and unexpected dangers of Lyonesse. ( )

Romanzo gradevole ed avvincente come al solito ma certo il capitolo meno riuscito dei tre, sopratutto nella parte finale dove Vance si dilunga in parti francamente poco rilevanti trascurandone altre a mio avviso ben + importanti e doverose di attenzione.
Inoltre in diversi capitoli si comincia a sentire una certa stanchezza e ripetitività oltreché una minor freschezza di idee. ( )

ORIGINALLY POSTED AT Fantasy Literature.

Well, here's the finale of Jack Vance's Lyonesse, and I'm sorry to see it end. This novel was about Madouc, the changeling princess of Lyonesse, and her interactions with Casmir, Sollace, Aillas, Dhrun, Shimrod, Throbius, Sir Pom-Pom, Umphred, Twisk, et al.

Madouc maintains the quality of this excellent trilogy — it's filled with clever prose, charming characters, and lots of imagination. Jack Vance's careful planning produced a tight plot and Madouc wrapped up all the loose ends from Suldrun's Garden and The Green Pearl.

I thoroughly enjoyed Lyonesse, but it may not be for everyone. It occurs to me that these books are a lot like Monty Python. They're fast-paced, weird, silly, outrageous, and (somehow) smart.

I'll give you one example: the magician Murgen realizes he's being spied on by someone who is disguised as a moth, so he sends Rylf to follow the moth and find out who it is. The moth flies away and joins a thousand other moths who are flying around a flame. As Rylf watches, one of the moths eventually drops down, turns into a man, and walks into an inn. But Rylf doesn't take note of the man because, as he figures, the laws of probability suggest that the particular moth he's after must still be flying around the flame.

If you don't find that hilarious, you may not enjoy Lyonesse as much as I did.

Part of what I love most about Jack Vance's humor is that he doesn't tell us it's funny. It's a completely deadpan delivery. So, when King Throbius (King of the Fairies) assures Madouc that “fairies are as tolerant as they are sympathetic,” there's no narrator or character who explains to Madouc (and, thereby, us) that this does not mean that fairies are tolerant. I have never read any author who does this as beautifully as Jack Vance does, and I loved it.

I've said it twice before, so I won't say again that Lyonesse ought to be reprinted. Read the rest of my Lyonesse reviews. ( )