Silverberg's feast is actually an s-f smorgasbord: five widely varied dishes, all of which display admirable polish, but which don't, alas, have much solidity. The title piece is a slick cerebration of wine, woman and sand; while others include a whimsical anthropologist's elegy to cultural diversity, an irrelevant travelogue through time, and a precious fantasy on the collapse of a Tolkienesque civilization. Only the chronicle on oracular tutelage brings substance to the style.