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Title: An author on auto-pilot
Review: I am wary of spending time on any of Ian (M) Banks's recent works. He always tries hard to experiment with new ideas and forms. But for quite some time now, he just hasn't been able to come up with any compelling material. This book covers (yet again) themes that are hallmarks of previous work, including a fascination for war and weapons, incest and the eccenticities of the aristocracy. But he has nothing particularly interesting to say about any of these, and no matter how hard Mr Banks tries to re-deal his cards these days, it is from the same old, dog-eared pack. Here, he also tries too hard to intellectualise his threadbare material, making one wonder at the end 'just what did I read that for'? Perhaps this effort could have made a reasonable short story, but I think Mr Banks must have some hardback contracts to satisfy, and so turned his thin material into his annual hardback output. It certainly shows.
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