Other than The Wasp Factory (1984), we hadn’t read much of Scottish writer Iain Banks’ (1954-2013) work before. He also used the sci-fi moniker Iain M. Banks, which is arguably the work he became most famous for.
A Song of Stone (1997) is one we happened to have lying around, so we gave it a whirl. To note, this is more like a novella than a full novel.
It’s an incredibly dark and macabre time of it. A bleak vision with a poetic writing style, all of which tell the tale of a war ending, a castle in need of protection, and armed gangs roaming a lawless land. Bloody ‘eck!
Betrayal and Much Nihilism in A Song of Stone
For the work’s plot, we’ll lift the synopsis off the hardcover edition:
“The war is ending, perhaps ended. For the castle and its occupants the troubles are just beginning. Armed gangs roam its lawless land where each farm and house supports a column of dark smoke. Taking to the roads with the other refugees, anonymous in their raggedness, seems safer than remaining in the ancient keep. However, the lieutenant of an outlaw band has other ideas, and the castle becomes the focus for a dangerous game of desire, deceit and death.”
Central to the plot are Abel and Morgan, a married couple of aristocratic bent, who live in a castle. But the dangerous woman called The Lieutenant (“Loot”), who imprisons them into the castle and nihilistic malarkey plays out from there.
The work is narrated by Abel, who’s unreliable.
Themes across A Song of Stone include betrayal, duty, and truth. And the genre shifts between thriller and a tale of morality.
Of Banks’ poetic writing style, you can find the likes of this:
“Bright morning comes; the bloody-fingered dawn with zealous light sets seas of air ablaze and bends to earth another false beginning. My eyes open like cornflowers, stick, crusted with their own stale dew, then take that light.”
As you can see there, the prose has a real lyrical quality to it. Almost like a Shakespearean edge, the type of thing you expect in the Scottish play Macbeth.
“Oh dear. I do believe this is self-pity. I am imagining myself dramatically dead, tragically taken from you and even more lamentably forgotten. What dreadful clichés war and social strife reduces us to, and how powerful the effect must be, if even I am so infected. I think I must pull myself together.”
The book was a bestseller. Contemporary newspaper reviews were largely positive, but modern online feedback is much more negative. Most of it lingers on the 3/5 mark with the general feeling it’s one of Banks’ weaker books.
For us, there’s no denying he was a fantastic writer.
But this isn’t his strongest plot. Bleak as all heck, the unpleasantness of the narrative will be off-putting for many readers. At times it just comes across as brutal for the sake of being brutal.
Certainly, if you’re a reader who wants something akin to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road (2006) then this is another work to flip through.
It depends if you’re in a misanthropic mood or not. But there are flashes of wit amongst Banks’ writing. Intriguing enough to get through, but not the best starting point if you’re new to this writer’s work.
Notes on Iain Banks’ and Iain M. Banks’ (respective) Careers
Banks died after a brief illness in June 2013 aged 59. A real shame—as you can see from his interview above, he was a lively and engaging sort.
Born in Dunfermline, Fife, to an ice skating mother and a father in the Royal Navy, Banks was an only child and took solace in sci-fi writers of the day. He’d began writing his own work aged 11. His first novel was written at 16.
He studied English, philosophy, and psychology at the University of Stirling between 1972 and 1975. To break into the literary world he decided to write something deliberately provocative.
That turned out to be The Wasp Factory, which has on its opening pages the scorching responses from critics in 1984 outraged by the work (woke mob/cancel culture etc.).
We found that amusing when we read the book in 2001. Here’s one such review from The Evening Standard:
“A repulsive piece of work and will therefore be widely admired. Piles horror upon horror in a way that is certain to satisfy those readers who subscribe to the currently fashionable notion that Man is vile.”
Its controversy helped launch his career and he went on write in literary fiction and sci-fi. The first in the latter genre was Consider Phlebas (1987), as part of his Culture series consisting of 10 works.
We must admit we don’t read much science fiction, but Banks is considered one of the best of his generation.
And we’re sure his work will have an enduring legacy.
