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Bob Mortimer speaks my language - I grew up with his humour, catching Shooting Stars and Big Night Out, amongst others, in the evenings after school. I knew what I was in for, and it's exactly why I picked up the book - surreal humour.

But the book is actually pretty tame on this. The decision to make it 'book-like' might have limited Bob in this regard. In the end, you have a perfectly readable 'holiday book'; not too complex, easy to follow, enough to keep you going - but it never tested me as a reader, and it didn't stray into anything challenging.

As the book draws on, the surreal drops away to reveal a light plot - which held my attention to the end, but was only 'satisfying'.

All that being said, I enjoyed reading it! And there are some great little moments in here in which Bob's vision of the world really shines through. His descriptions, at points, are impeccable.

I placed this book on my ‘to read’ list many many months ago. It was recommended to me by a fellow in my writing group who is incredibly well read. He plows through novels, and has an eye for incredibly books and authors – the kind you do not stumble upon by happenstance. After our writing sessions we drift to the nearest pub and chat all things literature, and it is often here, in the midst of new pints being pulled and shifts in the conversation, that I note down books and authors of potential interest.

So I found myself with Steven Sherrill’s book in the month of December, and it’s telling that I am writing this review and not a review of Dune Messiah, which I finished reading just before it. The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break stuck with me in a way that Dune Messiah did not. Perhaps it was the Raymond Carver-esque tone of Minotaur that pulled me in, for Minotaur is bursting with the collective experiences of the American working class. It’s a camper van environment, families crowded into small spaces, it’s working long hours in the kitchen of a local restaurant, finding solace in the free days to work on a project you find engaging.

This is another book in which I don’t want to give the main game away – not that it’s a book defined by a definitive turn – it’s more that I feel this is a book that anyone could pick up. I say this knowing that we are creatures that know what we like, and that the genres of fantasy and science fiction are, for some, difficult to get into. Perhaps the best thing I can say is that this is no ordinary fantasy, and I would consider it more magical realism – the ordinary, with a touch of magic. Go in expecting a slice of American life, rather than a fantasy romp. This is a cerebral, emotional, and sometimes difficult book, a story focusing on isolation, and the cruel machinations of ordinary people.

The writing is fantastic. Sherrill does a great job of presenting the main characters emotions through movements and gesture to the extent that, by the mid point of the book, you already have a sense of the way in which the main character is reacting through his movements. It’s quite a feat. There’s a wide array of characters who feel authentic, feet firmly placed in the real, and whose actions feel realistic and of-the-world. There’s a sense, too, of something being said – the nature of the narrative and the situation the protagonist finds themselves in suggests something more than what is simply happening within the text, but the meaning of the moment is lost to the characters. It’s a glorious way of presenting the absurd nature of the real world, and I think that may also be a characteristic of Minotaur, is it a work of absurdism? There are certainly touches of absurdism throughout.

thoroughly enjoyed ‘Use of Weapons’ and would place it on par with ‘Player of Games’. I am, in truth, not so keen on guns-blazing sci-fi, so my enjoyment of ‘Use of Weapons’ was tempered by those aspects, though I enjoyed the anti-war sentiments it entertained in the books later stages. There was little political intrigue, and the book focused heavily on the character of Zakalwe, his psychology, his history, and on the various conflicts he had been active in – but his character is far from shallow. He is no token heroic figure. It was this aspect that I enjoyed the most – attempting to understand why Zakalwe functioned the way that he did, and Banks did a fantastic job of adding complexity to this main character without revealing too much. I was kept guessing right up until the end.

Banks also does a fantastic job of giving a sense of place to the various planets and systems we are lead through. Some have more flesh than others, but the various levels of development, the natures of the conflicts, and the situations in which Zakalwe finds himself are far from repetitive and highly imaginative. The danger here is always that, if the characterisation comes across as weak, then the reader has nothing to grip on to.

It’s also the first of his sci-fi books that have reached the level of horror I have experienced in his literary works. There’s a Cronenberg feel to the situations in ‘Use of Weapons’. Visceral, in some cases almost comic gore, a real blood spatter drama to some situations.

I turned the last page of Banks' 'Consider Phlebas' a couple of nights ago, and I enjoyed (almost) every moment of it. Having read a great deal of Bank's literary works, I knew what to expect from his style. Strong pace, clear sense of character and motivation, complex themes presented in layman’s terms - not patronising, but welcoming, understanding - yet continuing to prickle at the back of your mind, encouraging you to read more. It was every bit as I expected, and more, as I hadn't expected his science fiction settings to have the same epic feel as other writers in the genre, and the final moments of the text were a complete surprise.

It felt great opening up another work of science fiction. It felt like coming home after a long trip. Like a long awaited hug. 'Consider Phlebas' opens and ends with violence. Shuttles are rocked by the impact of missiles and lasers as a number of ships engage in armed conflict open fire on one another. The races could not be more different - a race of three legged religious fanatics waging war with a race of sentient machines. The protagonist is caught in the middle, and then becomes a valuable tool in the conflict - his race, as a Changer, grants him access to a planet no other would dare step foot on. It just so happens that on that planet there is a thing-that-both-parties-want, and so the scene is set. Horza, the protagonist, needs to collect himself and get the thing-that-both-parties-want and deliver this to the three legged Idirian's before the sentient machines (the Culture) can get to it first.

Much of the novel takes place in the immediate aftermath of Horza's rescue from near death. Saved by the Idirian's, he is given a task and then launched into space following a battle between the Idirian's and the Culture. With nothing to hand, Horza has to start from the very beginning. The first half, perhaps more than half, of the novel is Horza finding his way in the world. I can imagine some - particularly those fond of pulp fiction - may find Banks' approach slow. It takes Horza a long time to get to where he needs to be, but I found that journey to be the most satisfying aspect of 'Consider Phlebas'. Horza's failing upward grounded me in the world and made the setting feel real and human, a number of incidents were the consequences of accidents and mistakes - either by Horza, or by others. This slow build allowed me to sink deep into the systems Banks was describing, and it never felt as if Banks was forcing exposition.

In fact, the only part in which I felt the text wobble was when Horza's party did eventually make it to the planet he had been tasked with investigating at the inception of the book. The setting narrowed violently - from the vastness of space where operatic battles played out around space stations, into tunnels deep beneath the frozen wastes of a forgotten planet. A solid third of the text takes place on this planet - and the tunnels are as constricting for the reader as they likely were for Banks' writing. His descriptions are continuously informative and insightful, however, even whilst trapped below the earth, but the ‘epicness’ is lost, and I too felt the sluggish trudge from one tunnel to the next.

Perhaps this is intended.

For those who haven't read the book, and intend to, then please do not read on

Horza's failure in the books final moments completely blows open traditional science fiction in which the protagonist saves the day. The long and drawn out section in the lower tunnels tests the abilities of all of those in the party, costing most of them their lives - and I closed the book thinking, 'and for what?' I felt then that the 'epicness' of previous chapters and sections were a kind of ruse - the task the main character had been given, if achieved, would not necessarily have ended the conflict, and yet he was so driven.

I was not surprised to find that, on closing the book, I continued to think long and hard about what had happened and what it had meant. An aspect of Banks' writing style, no doubt, as he so often sinks his teeth into morality, ethics, politics and philosophy. When I think back on 'Consider Phlebas' I think back on the presentation of the races - Horza's ruminations as to what the Idirian's are like, what they value, the make-up of their culture, and then too his thoughts on the Culture, and his own views on the two. It is a text in which the world is introduced through a character who very much wants to see his aims fulfilled, but who is defeated at the final turn. His is one of the many who fought and died; one of the many who had a task, and sadly, it was not achieved. In the words of the great KV - so it goes.

I've already purchased the next book - Player of Games.

‘Consider Phlebas’ was great. A real old-timey action science fiction book with a good number of twists. Like being hugged by an alien with eight arms. There are similarities between my experience with ‘Phlebas’ and ‘Dune’, though the two books stand apart from one another. I would argue that ‘Dune’ is, in many places, more finely woven – the politics certainly – but then ‘Player of Games’ happens, and, well, Banks does some magical things to weave in politics, plot and action.

Gurgeh plays board games. He makes them too. He lives on an orbital within the Culture. I thought his life quite ordinary a way – kinda like a space academic, with an edge of play. And yet he appears disaffected, a little absent, almost bored. So he does something out of the ordinary, something which could get him into a bit of trouble. Enough to threaten his reputation as one of the best game players out there. Then everything changes for him. He moves from academia to subterfuge and espionage – but he’s still the same old Gurgeh.

That’s what I enjoy the most about ‘Player of Games’. I saw Gurgeh in my mind as a pot-bellied everyman. He’s not a combat-ready, rifle-packing marine. He’s a yawny, indoorsy game player living a safe live who gets launched into a shitstorm. That, and the slower pace of the opening gives the reader plenty of time to breathe in the world that Banks paints for us. Here, in this narrative, we feel the world of the Culture. We see people living in it. We get a greater sense of its structure for the everyman and everywoman.

I found this gloriously satisfying, and could easily have read a whole book about Gurgeh’s rambling around this one station. I feed off of the small socio-political comments the characters around him make, or the way in which Banks describes the drones and their interactions with human beings. ‘Phlebas’ moved at lightspeed, the pleasure of that text was that you were always riding the wave, but you were moving too fast to get a real sense of the universe and the cultures within it. ‘Player of Games’ is gentler, more ponderous, like a drawn out game of chess.

Particular credit should be given to Banks’ ability to describe games that do not exist, and to do it in a way that makes it seem both like a real game but also make me, as a reader, feel like I know what the character is doing. What I thought these games were like is probably a great deal different to what others imagined. I imagined a blocky, turn based Starcraft. Civlization, perhaps.

So where does ‘Player of Games’ rate? Above ‘Phlebas’. Perhaps not quite as high as ‘Dune’. For all the pleasure I had reading ‘Player of Games’ I still found myself wanting more political intrigue. More of a dance of wits. But I am more than satisfied.

From amonthinpages.wordpress.com/

### Yukio Mishima's 'The Sound of Waves'. In Review.

My nervousness upon opening the book was dictated by a message scrawled in my copies front cover:

"To Andy, from Chris.

I was told that this is Mishima's best book - reading the 'blurb' "A novel of young love" etc, I'm not so sure! Hope it's O.K. anyway."

Young love. I felt indifferent - neither for or against the premise. I hoped that the 'young love' of ‘The Sound of Waves’ would be very different to the romcoms of today - and it is, though, it treads a worn path. The synopsis on the rear of the front cover says it best:

"Nevertheless, like the tales of Daphnis and Chloe and of Aucassin and Nicolette, it is a universal story that might have happened anywhere."

Indeed, it could have happened anywhere. The structure of the tale would be familiar to anyone so it wins no points for originality - but Mishima makes up for the simple and somewhat predictable structure with his delicious style of writing.

#### On Style

In ‘The Sound of Waves’ Mishima combines fast moving prose with strong descriptive brush strokes. Everything is definite. Characters are infused with one or two specific peculiarities, which are repeated and reinforced throughout the 180 page novella.

These characteristics have been beautifully selected and always highlight the humanity and 'everyday-ness' of the characters in the scene. Mishima's main character, Shinji, when entering the Young Men's Association, always sits on the floor against the wall, clasping his knees, in silence. It has become routine for him, and in every scene in the Young Men's Association we see Shinji adopt his position in the hall - albeit, described slightly differently every time.

Mishima takes time out of the events of the story to describe side characters as well, such as Shinji's boss, Jukichi, and how he 'took great pleasure in tobacco and had the odd habit of alternating between a pipe one day and cigarettes the next [...] on pipe days he was forever knocking his tiny, old-fashioned brass pipe against the side of the boat, a habit that had worn a small trough in a certain spot in the gunwale.' It is these small efforts at describing the world that really helps to bring both the people, and the locations, of Song Island to life.

Though archetypal within their roles, the characters consequently felt real, and I sympathised with them throughout. Mishima has done a great job of capturing the social environment of a small village. Everyone knows everyone else. Rumour spreads like wildfire. And this familiarity is somehow capture in the essence of the writing. It is remarkably well done.

#### A Note on Narrative

The narrative is comfortable. It's a simple romance, the pace is strong, and I think we all know where it's going as soon as we open the front cover. Once again, it was mostly the style of writing and the definition given through descriptions that carried the book for me. Otherwise it would be just another boy-meets-girl-they-fall-in-love-but-an-obstacle-blocks-their-way etc etc story.

#### My Copy

I had to place a special section here to gush about how beautiful my copy of ‘The Sound of Waves’ is. It's the perfect size to be carried in a small bag or in hand, and there's wonderful attention to detail throughout - from the delicate illustrations on the front cover, to the artwork featured throughout. Even the printing of the synopsis on the rear of the front and rear covers is artfully placed.

For those curious, my copy is a photo-offset reproduction of the first American edition, and is published by Charles E. Tuttle Company.

#### Recommendation

I highly recommend ‘The Sound of Waves’ to all readers. I'm a self confessed science fiction and fantasy nut - the kind of guy who would turn his nose up at romance - and I ‘loved’ this book. Really enjoyed it. A light, smooth narrative with glorious descriptions. Something to enjoy on a bright summers day.