The January Dancer takes place a long time in the future, in a region of the galaxy light-years away. Humanity has spread out from star to star, terraforming likely planets and seeding them with Earth-derived life. In the process, human cultures have mutated and hybridized. Earth itself is a distant planet, off the edge of the map, and no longer has much historical significance, though Terran exiles have been scattered among the stars by an oppressive empire, and seemingly every starport has its Terran quarter, filled with traders and petty criminals.

Flynn makes this the setting for a classic science-fictional adventure story, driven by an alien artifact found abandoned in ancient ruins. For most of the story, this seems to be no more than a maguffin, a science-fictional Maltese Falcon, existing to be the object of a quest. But, in the end, it turns out to be more than that. It's comparable to the One Ring of Power, and presents Flynn's heroes with similar choices. So this book asks the question Plato raised through his fable of the Ring of Gyges (a precursor of the One Ring): Is power a desirable thing to have?

But The January Dancer has libertarian aspects other than that. Flynn shows the reader a variety of planetary civilizations, each with its own laws and customs; and those often have libertarian aspects, as when the planet of New Eirann hires a contractor to run their government. And Flynn's vision of the dynamics of history often reflects libertarian insights, as when New Eirann falls into civil war because its administrator is honest, its wealthy men want to replace him with someone more willing to bend the law in their favor, and its common people recognize that the incumbent planetary manager was doing a good job and want to keep him on. There is also the attractively loose United League of the Periphery, reigned over but not ruled by a high king and defended by special agents called Hounds who are classic larger-than-life space-operatic heroes (at one point, Flynn evokes the Lens of E. E. Smith's Galactic Patrol). Several Hounds, and one aspirant, play major roles in Flynn's story, along with other, equally vivid characters.

Beyond this, Flynn's style is a pleasure to read. He's endlessly inventive in language, from names of future dishes such as “hodags and sarkrat” to names of planetary cultures such as the Century Stars or the Dao Chettians. He makes each planetary culture memorably different. And his framing narrative, in which a wandering harper persuades a reluctant old man to tell the story of the whole quest, gives both characters distinctive voices and makes their conversation a story in its own right.

The January Dancer is a return to classic science fiction…but a return that makes it seem fresh again. And for libertarian readers, Flynn offers an appreciation both of the value of freedom and of the ease with which it can be lost, whether to pirates, corrupt administrators, or authoritarian states. This is an entertaining, moving, and well-told story that deserves more readers.