The beauty of Jack Vance's prose is in its wit and its understated elegance. Consciously anachronistic even when it was written in 1979 it exhibits a timeless appeal in much the same way that Bradbury does.
Vance's cool, strangely fragile, protagonists have to negotiate their way across some gorgeously delineated landscapes and cultures. They are as likely to settle their disputes through verbal dexterity as violence which makes them a refreshing change from the hyper-violent ubermensch that populate modern SF (angst ridden or not).
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