AS someone not overly familiar with Iain Banks' work, I was dubious about how much enjoyment I would get from his hour-long discussion with John Wilson. Banks was talking about his new book, Dead Air, the tale of a Scottish shock-jock DJ who gets mixed in gangster affairs.
Alas, it seemed as if I was the only member of the audience not to have read the book. Luckily, Banks and Wilson's entertaining, informal chat soon filled me in as to the bare bones of the plot.
Banks, who appears to have a secret desire to be on stage more often, entertained with a quick wit and a good chemistry with his interviewer. He seemed a thoroughly amiable chap, unfazed by an audience of mainstream novel readers and slightly obsessive sci-fi fans, for both of whom he caters.
Questions from the floor revealed alarm at the amount of sex in his stories and intrigue at his changing style over his career, which spans nearly two decades. He willingly engaged all topics, with a self-proclaimed "don't give a damn" attitude. Iain Banks writes for Iain Banks, he declared, and Iain Banks likes sex, violence and explosions in his reading. If you don't like it, tough!
Phill Tromans
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