The Vanciacs of the world have been waiting for this one for years. The drought was long, and some of us wondered if it would ever break. But in the end it did - and when, after some troubles and tribulations I finally got my parcel from Tim Underwood my daughters looked at me and said: "The Book, huh?". I nodded. "The Book?" they repeated, just to make sure I got the point (I could never figure out how it is possible to capitalise a spoken word - but they did!). I nodded again. The sarcasm left me untouched. I was too happy to care - and I'm sure every Vancian the world must be.
Every review is a kind of 'spoiler'. If it wasn't, it would be too shallow to bother with. This one here is no exception. Therefore, gentle reader, please be reminded that, if you read on, you will at least get some idea of what Night Lamp is all about. I won't give away much of the plot, but I'll provide the briefest of outlines, and mention names and places. I'll also submit with my opinion of the book, as well as a small measure of - completely uncritical- analysis. Those who can live with that are encouraged to read on; and, indeed, they will probably see this as a 'teaser' more than a 'spoiler'. Those who cannot, please stop reading right here...
For those still with me:
Night Lamp is the story of Jaro. We are introduced to him when, as a small child, he is just being beaten to death by a bunch of louts with apparently nothing better to do. A kindly couple, Althea and Hilyer Fath, happen to chance upon the event and interrupt the deed before its denouement. Jaro, traumatised physically by the beating, and tormented mentally by flashes of memory involving, among other things, his mother's violent demise, undergoes extensive treatment - which includes an induction of partial amnesia which blanks out the worst of his memories - and recovers enough to become a normally functioning human being.
The Faths adopt him and take him back to their home, the city of Thanet, on the planet Gallingale. Over the years which follow Jaro passes through the various stages of growing up. He goes to school, and later to the local equivalent of 'university'. He is subjected to the excesses of the curious social framework of Thanet, and must find and preserve his own identity within it. He meets Skirlet, who will become very important to him. He wants to become a spaceman and cultivates the acquaintance of two outworlders whose involvement in his life is far more profound than he would ever have suspected.
Throughout all this time his guiding aim - much to the dismay of his foster parents - is to resolve the puzzle posed by his origins and the remaining fragments of his memory. Eventually this quest leads him to the planet Fader. On it he finds an isolated city, Romarth, inhabited by the Roum, who deliberately keep themselves apart and isolated, and live grandiose and useless lives with the assistance of their artificially bred slaves, the Seishanee. It is here that he manages to unravel the mysteries of his past, and to uncover the dastardly plots responsible for all those distressing memories.
That's all I'm going to say about the story itself- and I hope it wasn't too much...
Night Lamp takes place in the 'Gaean Reach'. Thus it provides the seasoned Vancian reader with a familiar contextual framework. Indeed, it's easy to imagine Cadwal just off to the starboard bow as our imaginary spaceship makes the transit from Thanet to Fader. Far off in the distance - just a wisp without the aid of a macroscope - hangs Alastor Cluster. The fact that we happen to be travelling in a Fortunatus should inject a additional comfortable element of familiarity. (It won't be, of course, if you haven't read The Cadwal Chronicles, but that's your problem!)
The people are similarly familiar. Jaro and Skirlet, the two main protagonists, are very much reminiscent of Glawen and Wayness. However, their characters and relationship have gained additional dimensions and scope.
The supporting cast of protagonists is similarly familiar and Vancean. There are Althea and Hilyer; loving and generous, though overly fussy and without a true comprehension of Jaro's ghosts and motivations. Then there are the friends with haunted pasts and demons of their own, who ultimately join Jaro on his quest, and who - together with Skirlet - provide him with a supportive social framework of his own. A circle of friends.
The antagonists are sicker and more twisted than ever. The bullies at school; the greedy, selfish opportunists; the callous, brutal murderers; the dominating females (remember Simonetta and Madame Zigonie?) as well as the pretty but vacuous ones; the vainglorious self-righteous social strivers. There is also another instantiation of a Kirdy Wook character; only that this time the whole thing is so sad and pathetic that it quite choked me up.
Jack delves lovingly on his depiction of the two societies around which the book revolves, and in particular on that in which Jaro grows up. A society where social advancement is the central preoccupation; where social standing is measured in the affiliation with social clubs and clans, with names like the Clam Muffins, the Bumblebosters, the Zonkers, the Kahubilahs, the Sick Chickens, the Bad Gang, the Naturals, and many more. Anybody not wanting to join the social striving is a 'nimp' and anybody daring to attempt ingratiation or mingling with individuals of a higher caste is a 'schmeltzer' (almost a criminal).
The society in Romarth, on Fader, is equally sick - maybe even more so. Its basis is inherently corrupt, its tenets fundamentally flawed, its use of artificially bred slaves disgusting, its culture long past its greatest glory and basically in a holding pattern of decay. Its members are even less capable of acquiring a sense of perspective than those on Gallingale.
Jack's lack of patience with such societies (which highlight- and one would hope that that's all they do! - certain deficiencies in our own) is becoming more obvious than ever. His descriptions have lost all trace of sympathy for the ingrates he's describing. His wit has become ever more mordant and occasionally assumes a bitter tone. His patience for those humans who create, support, or allow their individuality to be dominated by, such societies is equally short. The social strivers on Gallingale; the noble gentlemen on Fader; the louts who try to club young Jaro to death; the secretive slinkers on the streets of yet another city, on yet another planet; the aimless and pompous scientists investigating pointless subjects and indulging in endless and useless discussions about non-issues; they all get equally short thrift. Some of them come to a satisfyingly grim end; in the cases of others it is ineffably sad, if for no other reason that it might have been different, and that ultimately it seems so pointless.
This is a trend which became obvious in Cadwal and which has continued here. Compared to Night Lamp, The Cadwal Chronicles are cheerful reading. Night Lamp is not a bright, sunny work, but it's still the best thing Jack has ever written. It's absorbing and fascinating. It also lulls you into a false sense of security more often than once- when you wonder what he's up to now and why he's spending so much time on what appears to be a non-event; only to present you with a sudden, (in hindsight) absolutely logical, though at this point unexpected, fatidic calamity.
The people who survive this mess are the characteristically Vancean 'good guys'. Men and women who combine competence with personal integrity; who refuse to become instruments of the people and societies around them; who are frequently shaped by traumatic experiences, but who ultimately grow because of those very experiences. They do this because, despite being comparatively resistant to the pressures of the societies around them, they still live with and in those societies, and are often grudgingly accepted by them. This is in contrast to monomaniacs who invariably will end up failing.
From an authorial aspect, there are some interesting angles here relating to POV. I wonder if the reader will pick these up. I haven't seen that technique used too often. Jack's used it before (especially in Cadwal) but nowhere as extensively as here. It's fiendishly difficult to do, but for him it seems to work with a casual ease that makes me green with envy. If you figure out what I mean drop me a line. I'd be interested to hear who notices.
Night Lamp is a profoundly satisfying book, despite its grim tone. Jack pulls no punches and glosses over nothing, but when all is done there is a sense of completion; that things happened as they must have, and that, despite a note of wistful sadness, all is well; and that, when you have friends, the universe - though often dangerous, twisted, morbid, and evil - is not a bad place to be; and that there are things to do, places to go, and wonders to behold.