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In Praise of Iain (M.) Banks…

I was taught that all writers were fools and nits by my publisher father, and that all publishers were tyrants and buffoons by my author mother, and after extensive study of the species my conclusion is…

… probably best left on the other side of the ellipsis.  Certainly I can say that I’ve met vast numbers of both, and when I’m 75 years old and own a vast collection of dubious cats, I will give my full assessment on the theme, possibly punctuated with mad, shrieking cackles of hysterical laughter.  49 years and counting, world…

However!  There are, despite my upbringing, despite being trained pretty much from birth to mistrust the kind of mind that can spend months on end locked up in a room with only itself and a keyboard for company, there a few authors who I genuinely love not merely for their works, but as human beings.  Mike Carey, for example, is genuinely the nicest man in fantasy.  Fact.  And Iain M. Banks, on the one occasion I met him (I was then out-nerded by a proper nerd before I could truly declare my adoration) is not only a writer of brilliant imagination, but also seemed like a fine upstanding member of civilization.  To this end, and arguably to prove the point, for any readers of this blog with access to the BBC, I extend this link…

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-20181130