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Matter
sdedeo writes "Less known than he deserves to be among American science fiction readers is Iain M. Banks. In his native United Kingdom, Banks' work is released in hardcover at the front of bookshops; here, those seeking his science fiction work, at least, must dig down into the trade paperbacks — and often find things out of print. Those who do discover him in the States are usually pleasantly surprised to find the writing far more clever and engagingly written than the low-budget production values imply. With Orbit's release of his latest work, Matter, as well as its planned re-release of some of his earlier classics, things look to change." Read below for the rest of Simon's review.
Matter
author
Iain M. Banks
pages
593
publisher
Orbit
rating
8
reviewer
Simon DeDeo
ISBN
0316005363
summary
Iain M. Banks latest space opera
Banks is one of the leading authors of what might be called the Space Opera Renaissance. While the 1980s saw the creation of the cyberpunk genre, and the 1990s were for many the great era of "Hard SF" — science-centered masterworks such as Kim Stanley Robinson's Martian trilogy and Gregory Benford's Timescape — the 21st century seems to perhaps be an era impatient for the sometimes comical, sometimes tragic galaxy-wide sweep of writers such as John Meaney and Peter Hamilton.
The space opera is not a science-driven work. Unlike the harder stuff, quantum mechanics rarely makes more than a parenthetical and deus ex machina appearance, and relativity's time-bending constraints do not apply. Unlike the cyberpunk genre, epitomized by Neal Stephenson, it is rarely "idea driven"; McGuffins remain solidly unexplained, and society drives technology, not the other way around.
If the hero of Hard SF is a scientist, and the hero of cyberpunk is the wildcat entrepreneur, the hero of the Space Opera would be quite familiar to readers of myth and legend — the Quixotian wanderer, the deposed prince, the second son. Indeed, to the less sympathetic, the space opera can seem closer to the fantasy genre, following the usual dictum that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
Which brings us to the particular flavor of opera in Matter. Over the course of nearly a dozen novels, Banks has tuned and fine-tuned his own version of the Milky Way, one crowded by a huge number of species of wildly differing technologies and abilities. In a largish corner is the Culture, a kind of humanoid amalgam of different species whose point-of-view forms the center of Banks' vision.
This far in the future, technology renders scarcity obsolete, leaving the Culture free to practice a kind of anarchistic benevolence towards less developed species. Emphasis on the anarchistic: this is no Star Trek chain-of-command, but a strange, sometimes disturbing group characterized by a near-fanatical individualism and occasional pangs of guilt. Some of Banks' most charming stories are about various offshoots of the Culture, including the strange choices made by the many sentient AIs.
Banks' prose is free-flowing and liberally dosed with a kind of cynical, post-colonial British humanism; as the Culture meddles and blunders Banks' narrators look on with a sad half-smile. The British charm appears also in his characterization of the artificially intelligent machines, who often play Jeeves to more fallible, biological, Bertie Woosters.
Meanwhile, death and suffering accumulates liberally as the usual plot drivers — competing species at the Culture's level of development, or far less advanced places that hack away with swords, guns and terribly retro fission devices, observed by grains of spy-dust that entertain or horrify the more advanced.
The wide scope of Banks' world gives him plenty of space to play out, in miniature, a number of different genre conventions. Steampunk makes something of an appearance in Matter as the central story putters along with steam engines — beneath an artificial sky created eons ago by a vastly superior race that has long-disappeared.
Matter is perhaps not Banks' best — earlier novels such as Excession or Look to Windward might be a better place for newcomers to Banks. In Matter, things drag from time to time and perhaps fifty of the five hundred pages could be cut without pain. One wishes occasionally for a North-by-Northwest cut past some of the plot development that feels a bit dutiful near the end.
But the sparkle of Banks is largely undimmed, both in the grand sweeps of plot and the dozen-page grace-notes that for a less-talented writer would be the germ of a novella. Neglected since the era of E. E. "Doc" Smith, the space opera is back. And Banks has been there all the time.
Although currently 30,000 feet over the Atlantic, Simon DeDeo is usually at home in Chicago, Illinois, where he works as an astrophysicist at the University of Chicago and moonlights as a literary critic. He last wrote for slashdot on the politics of blogging.
You can purchase Matter from amazon.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page.
The space opera is not a science-driven work. Unlike the harder stuff, quantum mechanics rarely makes more than a parenthetical and deus ex machina appearance, and relativity's time-bending constraints do not apply. Unlike the cyberpunk genre, epitomized by Neal Stephenson, it is rarely "idea driven"; McGuffins remain solidly unexplained, and society drives technology, not the other way around.
If the hero of Hard SF is a scientist, and the hero of cyberpunk is the wildcat entrepreneur, the hero of the Space Opera would be quite familiar to readers of myth and legend — the Quixotian wanderer, the deposed prince, the second son. Indeed, to the less sympathetic, the space opera can seem closer to the fantasy genre, following the usual dictum that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
Which brings us to the particular flavor of opera in Matter. Over the course of nearly a dozen novels, Banks has tuned and fine-tuned his own version of the Milky Way, one crowded by a huge number of species of wildly differing technologies and abilities. In a largish corner is the Culture, a kind of humanoid amalgam of different species whose point-of-view forms the center of Banks' vision.
This far in the future, technology renders scarcity obsolete, leaving the Culture free to practice a kind of anarchistic benevolence towards less developed species. Emphasis on the anarchistic: this is no Star Trek chain-of-command, but a strange, sometimes disturbing group characterized by a near-fanatical individualism and occasional pangs of guilt. Some of Banks' most charming stories are about various offshoots of the Culture, including the strange choices made by the many sentient AIs.
Banks' prose is free-flowing and liberally dosed with a kind of cynical, post-colonial British humanism; as the Culture meddles and blunders Banks' narrators look on with a sad half-smile. The British charm appears also in his characterization of the artificially intelligent machines, who often play Jeeves to more fallible, biological, Bertie Woosters.
Meanwhile, death and suffering accumulates liberally as the usual plot drivers — competing species at the Culture's level of development, or far less advanced places that hack away with swords, guns and terribly retro fission devices, observed by grains of spy-dust that entertain or horrify the more advanced.
The wide scope of Banks' world gives him plenty of space to play out, in miniature, a number of different genre conventions. Steampunk makes something of an appearance in Matter as the central story putters along with steam engines — beneath an artificial sky created eons ago by a vastly superior race that has long-disappeared.
Matter is perhaps not Banks' best — earlier novels such as Excession or Look to Windward might be a better place for newcomers to Banks. In Matter, things drag from time to time and perhaps fifty of the five hundred pages could be cut without pain. One wishes occasionally for a North-by-Northwest cut past some of the plot development that feels a bit dutiful near the end.
But the sparkle of Banks is largely undimmed, both in the grand sweeps of plot and the dozen-page grace-notes that for a less-talented writer would be the germ of a novella. Neglected since the era of E. E. "Doc" Smith, the space opera is back. And Banks has been there all the time.
Although currently 30,000 feet over the Atlantic, Simon DeDeo is usually at home in Chicago, Illinois, where he works as an astrophysicist at the University of Chicago and moonlights as a literary critic. He last wrote for slashdot on the politics of blogging.
You can purchase Matter from amazon.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page.
I'd have to completely disagree with the claim that these two are the best Culture novels to start with. I've read Look to Windward 3 times and I still can't work out why they go to the airsphere, and Excession all too often bears the signs of the sad sight of a grown man left to masturbate in his own literary devices.
If you haven't read a Culture book before, do yourself a favour and grab a copy of the The Player of Games, Matter (which is probably the most straightforward novel he's done) or Consider Phlebas.
If you haven't made a developer cry, you've wasted a day.
I have read two of the culture books, The player of games, and Consider Phlebas. Both were impressive and I would like to get caught up with the rest (two more bought but on the long term reading list). His work is very enjoyable to read, and paints pictures that are more than escapist SF. There is a lot of nuance in the political structure and its implications.
I am glad that he is still writing on the series, the review for Matter suggests an enjoyable read.
How so? Are you suggesting that Matter is lacking in Gravitas?
I have to admit that I've only read one Iain M. Banks novel (Look to Windward, because for some reason my local library has a copy), but I've had Consider Phlebas and Player of Games on order with Amazon waiting for their US (re)issues for the past few months. However, I've read nearly every Iain Banks novel and have absolutely loved almost every word he's written. Actually, I'll be finishing up The Wasp Factory in the next day or so. If you aren't familiar with him, I strongly suggest you pick up something right away (most of his fiction is fairly readily available in the States; his scifi is a bit harder to come by until those reissues come out over the next few months). Absolutely amazing author.
This guy's the limit!
I see the title as being a blatant hole left open for a sequel to fill:
Anti-Matter- the sequel to the smash hit, Matter. Taken together, they are quite an explosive read...
I got a catholic block.
"The Wasp Factory" is very close to the most messed-up, disturbing book I've ever read. I personally think it's his best work.
However, if you can find it, "Raw Spirit" is a non-fiction book about him touring Scotch factories and talking about how Scotch is made and why it taste like bog and how, despite that, people keep buying every bit the little distilleries can produce. It's a good book.
Nostalgia's not what it used to be.
I'm suggesting the article title is misleading to people interested in science, not science fiction... Though, this is slashdot. I should of expected a slightly misleading headline.
Should you of? I thought the heading of "Book Review" and first sentence of "Less known than he deserves to be among American science fiction readers is Iain M. Banks..." was a pretty good indicator that this was going to be a book review about a science fiction book titled "Matter" by an author named Iain M. Banks. But then again I might just be crazy...
This guy's the limit!
Hamilton writes what is essentially quite juvenile pulp fiction. That's not to say it's not enjoyable, but it's essentially silly trash. Banks is much more of the high-literature variety. Comparing the two is almost impossible.
I'm not sure if you can go straight from Hamilton to Banks and expect a similar ride. The Banks Culture novels are *very* different. Actually, my favorite Banks space opera is not a Culture novel: The Alchemist. Great save the galaxy stuff, giant fleets of warships travelling at relativistic velocities and blowing each other up, exotic aliens and weaponry...yum.
In the mean time, if you like Hamilton, check out Neal Asher's "Polity" novels, very much in a similar vein and style.
I read Usenet for the articles.
that Iain M. Banks is one of the most underrated Sci-Fi authors out there. He does "large scale" on an unprecedented... err.. scale. From the description of worlds, to the intelligence of the minds, to the battles they fight across the galaxy.
His descriptions of Lazy Guns is one of the funniest things I've ever read (Use of Weapons or Against a Dark Backround, I can't remember now).
But his contemporary Iain "no M" Banks stuff is not nearly as good (not bad though). What is it about Sci-Fi that lets otherwise average authors become great? Is is the chance to suspend disbelief?
Or am I just biased towards Sci-Fi?
The reference to Gravitas was an in-joke. The superintelligent AI-run spaceships of the Culture are rather more playful than one might expect in a traditional space opera. Names the ships have chosend for themselves include "Zero Gravitas", "Very Little Gravitas Indeed" and in "Matter", "Experiencing A Significant Gravitas Shortfall".
A pizza of radius z and thickness a has a volume of pi z z a
Some may disagree, as the epic Night's Dawn trilogy ended with something of a deus ex machina, but I hold that this sort of device was foreshadowed throughout the trilogy. And regardless, it was a heck of a ride getting there; it's a kick-ass space opera, and Hamilton leaves you wanting more. The Confederation milieu is one of the best in SF, on par with those of Brin, Niven, Asimov and (dare I say) Herbert.
I recently finished the Commonwealth sagas, and while the first 500 pages took some patience for me, others may enjoy the rich character development. And by the time I finished the following 1500 pages, I was grateful I slogged thru the first bit. Hamilton ties together all of his storylines, leaving few (if any) loose ends. And he's following it up with another pair of novels in the same milieu, "The Dreaming Void" and "The Temporal Void"
I'm now reading Fallen Dragon, and it has the same slow start as Pandora's Star... I'm hoping it develops well.
I don't recommend his Greg Mandel novels... unless you like fast, predictable reads.
Not to disrespect Iain M. Banks, those of his novels that I have read, I enjoyed and would recommend. But the Culture novels can be obtuse and difficult reads. Hamilton's novels do not suffer from this.
I can see the fnords!
Not really, he's not -- not compared to the killer-Bs, for example, or Neal, or the "older" generations. "Extremely prominent" is a difficult thing to quantify (just as "less known than he deserves to be"), but here's one metric: Myopic Books, a used book store in Chicago with an excellent sci-fi section, currently has no Banks on the shelves -- but plenty of the more usual suspects from America.
As for relative availability in the US versus the UK: I've already covered the extent to which his sci-fi is far more celebrated in blighty, but to elaborate: it is tough (but getting easier now) to get a hold of Banks' books. Booksellers tend to class them with the usual muck and laser-slash-grunge and don't really consider him (as they should) an essential writer to stock. And, yes, there is digging required: Inversions and Look to Windward are, for example, not available on amazon (Look to Windward is "temporarily out of stock", and Inversions appears to be out of print and only available used.) This is changing now that Orbit is re-releasing the books, as you can see from a cursory glance at release dates.
In conclusion: you are wrong, and also a bit mean.
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Hamilton reads like a Hollywood blockbuster - gratuitous sex aplenty, big explosions, fast action. Banks has those too, but generally is more skillful and balanced in his writing. Also Hamilton seems to have issues with endings. Everything I've read from him either ends in a deus ex machina or comes damn close. "Ok, so the universe is going to shit if we don't find this supercomputer-übermind-whatever and get it to help us. Let's go do that! Hey here it is! Hello please help us? Woo, everything was fixed!" - If it's not that bad, then at least you can see the ending coming about a thousand pages away because Hamilton's idea of a plot is to have the characters come up with a plan and then execute it to the letter. Seriously, once you've read what the characters intend to do, you know what's going to happen at the end: Exactly what they say they're going to do.
That said, I do enjoy his works in the way I enjoy bubblegum, but damnit, writing huge trilogies with endings as unclimactic as Hamilton's is just sadistic.
I've read almost all of his books, including "The Business", "The Bridge" and other non-science fiction works. "Matter" is one of his best but I have to say "Against a Dark Background" has to be his best work. Nothing beats a lazy gun !
Post-scarcity, I don't see how you'd have anything that resembled "Communism" in the standard sense, but the Guardian described the Culture as "anarcho-communism", which seems reasonable. I can't find the interview, but the one think Banks did say was that he was very irritated by those who saw the Culture as a metaphor for a kind of "future America." Banks is indeed very critical of what he sees as the kind of anarcho-capitalism tooth-and-claw of the States and my guess is that back in the real world he's a socialist.
I do agree that Banks is pretty sophisticated about his relationship to the Culture, and is tuned-in to the sort of "cultural imperialism" that the Culture's unrestrained hedonism and vaguely-Enlightenment extrapolations practice. But would you really join the Iridians?
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I've seen his releases get front-alcove treatment in the Waterstones in Oxford, and Heffers' in Cambridge, but perhaps that's because they know their nerds. I do agree, in lesser doses, that the problems you describe are the failure modes of Banks' sci-fi -- but I disagree that it happens as often as you suggest.
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Peter F. Hamilton is the Stephen King of scifi. The world-building and storytelling is unbelievably good but the endings are pulled out of his ass. The end of Night's Dawn was the biggest Deus Ex Machina since the Stand.
Kwisatz Haderach
Sell the spice to CHOAM
This Mahdi took Shaddam's Throne
Its not enough to say you don't think its his best, you're supposed to tell WHY you think it wasn't his best! Was it not as creative? Were the characters unbelievable? Was the plot well paced? Was there not enough action? Too much action? It wouldn't even kill you to quote some passages that support your opinion.
I'm offering some criticism so you can write better reviews in the future and you accuse me of being grouchy, dismiss my complaints and tell me to take your word for it. Typical blogger hack.
I provide what I think is a relatively interesting historiography of sci-fi subgenres and try to suggest that space opera, after years of taking a sideline to other projects, might be ready to capture the attention of the average geek. I try to put things in a larger context because my guess is that most /. readers haven't read Banks, and generally consider space opera to be a bit beneath their paygrade.
In response, you demand a totally different product, a review of the book for someone who already has read Banks' culture novels. That's fine, but that's not the review I wanted to write. Then you as much as accuse me of deception -- that I never actually read the book -- and when I bite back, you get huffy and claim that you were simply providing kind guidance and that if I don't listen to you I will be doomed to write crappy reviews.
I, blogger hack, salute you, friend and comrade comment troll!
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I'd have to agree, I love Banks, and Ken MacLeod (who incidentally were at school together), and Alastair Reynold and have devoured everything they're written. Hamilton however just cannot write. Generally I find his first couple of chapters pull you in with an intriguing idea or two, but thereafter they lack characterization and read like *very* long, increasingly tedious, teenage comic books. I've waded through the start of several now and sooner or later he completely jumps the shark and I find I've better things to do with my life.
The description of the Culture as "far future" isn't correct - it's intended to be roughly contemporary with the present time, as evidenced by "State of the Art" and some of the timelines given in Consider Phlebas. "Technologically advanced" is a more accurate description.
This incident of nitpickery has been brought to you by the letters "E" and "Schwa" and the number needle-nardle-noo.
Well its nice we had this Frank Exchange of Views. Its a Reasonable Excuse that he might want something with Very Little Gravitas Indeed or even Zero Gravitas. I'm a Recent Convert and when I'm Killing Time, I might read one of his books, enjoying them I see as Youthful Indiscretion of mine.
:)
If you disagree, you can Kiss My Ass