In his day job, Paul Linebarger was a diplomat and academic who literally wrote the book on psychological warfare. You can see traces of his experiences of Asia in the books he wrote as Cordwainer Smith; his future is define by the Instrumentality of Mankind, a rigorous, ruthless yet noble bureaucracy which recalls the great Eastern civil services more than any Western organisation. But in many ways it would be easier to believe these peculiar tales were the work of some reclusive aesthete or acid-fried counterculturalist. Here are realms "Where crazy lanterns stared with idiot eyes. Where the waves washed back and forth with the dead of all the ages. Where the stars become a pool and I swam in it. Where blue turns to liquor, stronger than alcohol, wilder than music, fermented with the red red reds of love. I saw all the things that men have ever thought they saw, but it was me who really saw them."
And right there, I think, you can see one of the reasons that Smith's future history has not become a playground for other writers the way so many contemporary settings (Known Space, Saberhagen's Berserker universe) have; who else could write that way without lapsing into pastiche, like some sorry spacefaring August Derleth? But the other is that, as a future history, it doesn't really hold together. There's always a timeline in the back of the collections, but you can tell that - had Smith not died early, his work incomplete - he had a lot of revisions to do. Maybe even some excisions; 'The Colonel Came Back From The Nothing-At-All' is clearly either a sketch for, or a distillation of, 'Drunkboat'; saying they're separate stories set millennia apart won't wash at all. And yet, each has its separate strengths, so one can in many ways be glad that no such tidying occurred.
Some of the later stories mesh less well with what I've previously read of Smith - even in their titles, the Casher O'Neill stories 'On the Gem Planet', 'On the Storm Planet' and 'On the Sand Planet' seem to be seeking an accommodation with more mainstream, heroic SF. And yet, whether by design or simple intransigence of the muse, they veer back towards a very Smith strangeness; in particular, there is the central figure of T'ruth, an irresistibly attractive 12-year-old girl. Who is also a thousand-year-old-turtle. And if that somehow doesn't creep you out, just wait for the scene where she wanks off her comatose father-figure!
That's not the only awkward moment; while one of the big themes in the stories is the stupidity and injustice of racism, a casual but firm male chauvinism seems to be fine. And it's frustrating how, compared to the genuine strangeness of the people in some stories, in others (often ones later in the timeline, which makes it particularly odd) they do very much come across as fifties Americans with spaceships. Then too there's the didactic tendencies, especially once the Old Strong Religion (yeah, that annoying one with the fish and the cross) is rediscovered. But nobody ever quite imagined a future free from their own age's preconceptions, and the poetry and strangeness are almost always enough to carry the stories through these hiccups.
Curiously, two of the leads in stories here (and I do mean 'leads'; unlike many SF writers of the supposed golden age, Smith didn't really deal in 'heroes') are named Rambo and Dredd. One wonders if their creators - or indeed their shared enactor, Sly Stallone - ever happened across these stories. Elsewhere, and half a century ahead, incidental details anticipate both the two-headed war elephants of Adventure Time, and Sharknado.
The volume is filled out (not that it needs it, having already hit 700 pages by that point) with a few non-Instrumentality SF stories of Smith's (though some of them, especially the terribly sad 'Nancy', could easily slot into its early years). Like the Casher O'Neill stories, some of these are a little more conventional, but only a little - though I could see the comedic 'Western Science Is So Wonderful' clicking with a lot of people who didn't fall for the more rarefied charms of the Instrumentality stuff.