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Iain (M) Banks
I was sad to learn yeaterday of the death of Iain Banks. In April he announced he had terminal cancer and was not expected to live long. In a typically self-depreciating interview with the BBC he revealed his last book would feature a man dying of cancer. He joked that it might be a cynical ploy to shift more books. Sadly, it wasn't.
Banks was best known for his 'straight' fiction - The Wasp Factory, The Crow Road, Espedair Street, Walking On Glass. With his 'M' in place Banks wrote the finest, most engaging science fiction I have read. Philip K Dick may have been more prolific, certainly more prescient than Banks, but his characters were flat compared to larger-than-life protagonists Bora Horza Gobuchul, Diziet Sma and Cheradenine Zakalwe. Intricately woven, his tales are laced with ribald good humour and, at times, shockingly graphic, horrible detail.
I like the names he gave to ships in his Culture novels. Some examples:
Anticipation Of A New Lover's Arrival, The
Just Testing
Sense Amid Madness, Wit Amidst Folly
Little Rascal
Kiss My Ass
Just Read The Instructions
The names offer clues as to the personality of the ship's Mind. Even then, he tossed in the occasional red herring.
If you've never picked up one of these I recommend Consider Phlebas, the opening sonata in the Culture series. Rough around the edges compared with his later work, it's a perfect introduction to this side of his art. Alternatively, try State of the Art, a collection of short stories. If you don't much fancy Sci Fi at all, give Banks a go. You may be surprised.
The certain knowledge that there will never be another IMB novel on the book stands makes me very sad indeed.
RIP.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
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