Nothing to Declare

The trouble with Ian Banks…

… or even Iain Banks (so, you know he’s Scottish from the very first thing you know about him, and you won’t be forgetting that, will you now), is that all of his main characters are the same. Sassy women, rock heroes, war heroines, journalists, players, they all possess an impeccable wisdom, wit and logic that is unswervably Banksian. Essentially, he writes to express his fantasies on the printed page. There’s nothing wrong with this – indeed, the results are to be applauded, but despite the stylistic changes, the clever uses of the language, the flashes back and forward I can’t help wondering if Oor Iain is a bit of a comfort zone creature. Amalgamating a few central characters, he likes to live slightly dangerously, enjoys good sex and a few drugs occasionally, and likes to be the centre of a conversation. He values his independence, enjoys his music and feels decidedly uncomfortable that he is getting older, to the extent that he indulges in things that might incite the occasional snigger from those around him. All of which is probably about as far from the truth, but heck. It’s a Sunday.