R.I.P. Iain Banks
June 9, 2013 § Leave a comment
I shrugged. ‘Out. Walking and things.’
‘Building dams again?’ he sneered.
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head confidently and biting the apple. ‘Not today.’
‘I hope you weren’t out killing any of God’s creatures.’
I shrugged at him again. Of course I was out killing things. How the hell am I supposed to get heads and bodies for the Poles and the Bunker if I don’t kill things? There just aren’t enough natural deaths. You can’t explain that sort of thing to people, though.
–from The Wasp Factory (1984)
Iain Banks succumbs to gall bladder cancer at 59. More beloved across the pond than here, I think, but any writer who understands that children are cruel and unmerciful savages deserves a legacy.
Neil Serven 
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