I wasn't expecting this when I logged into my computer an hour ago. It kind of goes without saying that every sympathy should be extended to Iain Banks and his family, as at an age of just 59, this kind of news is beyond terrible, but I'm actually quite depressed about this myself.
Over the last six months I've read no less than five of Iain Banks' novels (Transition, Stonemouth, Matter, Surface Detail and The Player of Games) and only this morning started reading The Crow Road. So you could say that he was rather rapidly becoming one of my favourite authors (right up there alongside J.G. Ballard and Kurt Vonnegut), and his Culture novels have certainly been influential in getting me to sit down and write my own 'hard' sci-fi (40,258 words of my -first?- novel so far and counting) - in fact, I'd rank Use of Weapons as easily in my top three favourite novels, arguably even at the top of the tree. But what makes news like this hard to take is not just the loss of someone as a writer, but as a person.
His statement, which you can't read on his own website, (it has understandably crashed due to the deluge of traffic at the news) is honest, brutally honest, dignified and even has some of Banks' trademark dark humour thrown in, too - if you'll forgive the pun, it's Cultured. I guess most people try to find connections to the artists whose work they admire (be they actors, writers, directors, musicians or whatever), and I suppose I identify with Banks so strongly because a) we're both Scottish, b) have the same first name, spelled properly, c) neither of us have any truck with organised religion and d) we both want to live in a massively decadent, post-money, post-scarcity techno-anarchist utopia. But it's not just that, every interview I've read or seen with Iain Banks, he just comes across as a really nice guy; intelligent, inventive, articulate and just a little bit mischievous as well. Essentially, the kind of guy I'd like to spend time in the pub with, drinking large volumes of strong continental lager while discussing life, the universe and everything. For the people who are lucky enough to know him socially, I'm sure he'll leave a larger hole behind in their lives than for those of us who simply admire his work as a writer.
A sad day. I think I need to listen to something beautiful now.