After almost ten years, I've finally, and patiently, and sadly reached the end of Jack Vance's oeuvre. Aware of the fact, I've put off reading the Alastor trilogy for several years, waiting for the right moment. I don't know the specific trigger, but the “moment” arrived a couple weeks ago, and the cover was cracked. How does it fair in comparison to the dozens of other novels and collections Vance published throughout his more than 90 years? (Answer: across the spectrum.)
The Alastor trilogy opens with Trullion. An extremely fast-paced story, it tells of Glinnes and his return to his home planet after ten years in the galaxy's police force. Far from the prodigal son, he returns to broken circumstances: one brother is missing, presumably murdered, his other brother has sold the family estate, his sister is carefree, and his mother no longer has any interest in the family. To top it all off, there doesn't appear to be any way to get the estate back, and there is a troupe of gypsies camped in their back lawn that don't want to leave. Getting to the bottom of what happened while he was away takes all his sleuthing skills, a little good luck, and a lot of time playing the planet's favorite sport, hussade. Things skipping along apace (too fast, in fact), Vance keeps the pedal pinned to the floor getting through the plot, leaving the reader wishing for a little more meat as the final pages turn.