Quirky Banks
It’s hard for me to nail down exactly what makes the works of Iain M Banks so quirky and magical for me. It certainly isn’t the originality of his plots and narratives – you’re pretty much guaranteed a war (or similar catastrophe) somewhere around the three-quarter mark, the main character is a poor schmuck who gets the increasingly shorter end of the stick, and the supporting cast members are wont to die unexpectedly (which, curiously, is expected).
Take Consider Phlebas, in which Bora Horza (whose race is fighting a war) is stuffed around by the powers that be as his friends and enemies drop like flies around him. Or Excession, where, under the looming threat of war, the characters (space ships mostly) get variously killed, pissed off or mistreated. In The Algebraist, which I have just finished reading, the layout is largely the same.
Another thing that is absolutely to be expected from a Banks novel is the usually supremely anticlimactic ending – like a 500-page-long, elaborate joke with a two-paragraph punchline, often revealing something obvious that would have prevented the past 500 pages from happening, had it been known earlier. The most wonderful thing here, though, is that the ending always comes as a surprise – if you think you’ve guessed the twist early on, then that won’t be the twist. The Algebraist’s ending wasn’t a complete surprise, unfortunately, and is – if anything – the least accomplished part of the book. The protagonist, Fassin, spends the entire narrative searching for hidden ancient information, but by the end (and I won’t spoil whether he finds it or not) nobody really cares. However, true to form, there’s a neat little sub-twist on the last page that feels very satisfying (though it’s almost entirely irrelevant to the story).
On the other hand, Banks has the amazing ability to completely surprise the reader with his wry humour. He describes a tense scene between characters in great detail, then casually reveals (near its end) that one of the characters is transforming himself into a walrus. Just because. The Dwellers – the many-billions-year-old race that lives on gas giants throughout the galaxy – easily steal the show in The Algebraist. They’re obnoxious, self-absorbed and pompous, they hunt their own children, make war for sport, are incorrigible tricksters and think little, if anything, of other alien races. Their supreme arrogance plays off their almost complete naivety beautifully. It’s hard to say much without spoiling the best jokes, but about half of the book, and much of Fassin’s wild goose chase around the galaxy, is precipitated by a Dweller.
Banks is an engaging writer who breathes some fresh air into the usually serious realm of speculative fiction. His superb worlds, races and characters are brought to life by his brilliantly crafted prose. I’d recommend you try at least one of his works, just for the sheer expereince of it.
