Bloody hell, Iain Banks

A couple of weeks ago, I was preparing to write a piece on the two latest books by Iain Banks, "The Hydrogen Sonata" (Culture novel as Iain M. Banks) and "Stonemouth", contemporary fiction set much closer to home.

Then I discovered that Banks is dying of cancer and that his publishers were scrabbling to bring his next book, which will now be his final book, forward so that he can see it released.  Bloody hell, Iain Banks, I'm so sorry to read that and I can only hope that the ending, when it comes, is swift and kind.

I went to his 'tribute' site where fans can leave messages (link in above link), and on the 142nd comment page, I left the following:

"I stumbled across "Crow Road" while on a rather difficult trip to visit family in Melbourne, Australia, years ago and not only did it introduce me to an excellent bookshop but it gave me an introduction to an excellent writer as well. That copy of "Crow Road" has been around the world more times than I can remember, stuffed in my suitcase, and brought out periodically to read the passage on the ballast stones in the ships. It was with me as I landed for the first time in the US on the West Coast and I waded into the water in San Francisco harbour so that, when I hit the East Coast and dipped my feet and hands into the chilly surf in January, I could mentally assemble and comprehend the US as the place between these connected waters. Like the stones, that copy of "Crow Road"'s legend and weight increases with travel. These days, much like me, the cover has seen better days and the spine is bothered by air travel, so it is enjoying a delightful retirement among other, younger, books who have not yet seen the world. I still fly economy and the book is enjoying first class. Such is life.

It hasn't always been a kind read, living in your world. "Song of Stone" is so bleak and sad and, being frank, it's a far better version of McCarthy's "The Road", despite pre-dating it by decades. "Canal Dreams" is resolutely and hypnotically odd, yet terrifying, as this stratified cellist re-skins and suddenly we see shadows of Colonel Kurtz. "Inversions" and "Look to Windward" touch on the wistful in the culture and, having just finished "Hydrogen Sonata" and "Stonemouth", that wistfulness is creeping in more and more. The sufficiently-disconnected-from-the-socialist-Utopia-to-be-a-protagonist model, so necessary for the Culture, always results in someone being left behind. However, your writing is always strong enough to pull off this as a stance of choice, or a matter of containable regret. (Well, almost always, "Espedair Street", eh? I think millionaires can manage to be happy and barrelling towards Poll tax hell is not conducive to a great relationship.)

You almost never fail to make me gasp with a sudden revelation of scale or the sheer magnitude of your ideas. I've read criticism of some of the more recent works and, hagiography aside, I'm not sure why. You, of all people, have clearly stated your intention to write in more than one genre and there are minutiae of sub-genres that don't fit into what you've already written. "Dead Air" is not "The Bridge" is not "Broken Glass" is not "Stonemouth" and all of these are, of course, not anything from the M. side. Different, yes, but very enjoyable. "Stonemouth" was, however, one of your best, for me, although "Crow Road" is (and always will be) the sentimental favourite. First is first.

I must confess that, among my friends, I have long held that the M stands for 'Moustache', and I often say this while holding a finger to my top lip as a faux moustache, where this cunning stratagem allows you to disguise yourself while delving into the grubby world of SciFi - but the fact that we have such a long running joke is testament to your standing in our community of voracious SF readers. Another friend and I regularly replay THAT moment in "The Algebraist" where you pull the grand reveal and we cringe as we speak and say "No, don't do that, seriously, don't threaten... really, you don't. Well, I could have told you that was going to happen." It was a delightful conceit and I think you delivered it beautifully.

I have deliberately not looked at the focus of your next book. "The Quarry" could be classic contemporary fiction set in the haggis mines of Scotland (do you have a person from the English or Scottish Tourist Board who writes you letters saying "please, Iain, less gang violence this time?"). It could be about hunting someone and that is a theme that could go anywhere. For all I know, having read and enjoyed "Raw Spirit", it could be a detailed history of the outside broadcast filming for Doctor Who in the 70s! Whatever it is, I look forward to reading it and I can only hope that this is not your last book. Not for the reading, but because it means that you are continuing to live.

You have given all of us a great deal of enjoyment and, if this plays out as you have written, you will be gone too soon and sadly missed. I can only give you my thanks and my very best wishes to you, your friends and family.

My sincere thanks,
Nick."