In his new Culture novel, Matter, Iain M. Banks would like you to know that the universe is very, very big, and you are very, very small.
Even if you're the king, it doesn't mean you're all powerful. Sure you've got all those lowly peasants groveling about, but you're just the king of one tiny nation. But let's say you're the king of all you can see. Well that's just one country, or one planet.
And what if your planet isn't even a planet but one level among many, nested one inside another, all the way up into space, and all the way down to its mysterious core, like a Russian doll; each with its own climate, rivers, mountains and oceans, each with its own little thermonuclear "rollstars" moving overhead to heat and light the day. And what if this "shellworld," as magnificent as it may be, is just one among many such worlds in a massively expansive universe that's much too big to imagine.
And what if this massively expansive universe is populated with a multitude of civilizations each having achieved a certain level of technological advancement, and having arranged themselves hierarchically, look down upon lower societies with paternalistic amusement, and look up at higher one's with fear and reverence (some having forsaken material existence altogether). Well then you're just getting started (and have we mentioned that you, reader, are very small, and very insignificant).
Because even if you're the king, and you're assassinated, and you're entire realm has been thrown into turmoil by your usurper, how interesting is that going to be to the more advanced and enlightened (the optimae, as they call themselves)? You're just a simple rube with a medieval culture. Wake us up when a powerful alien/machine thing gets dug up by a massive waterfall and attempts to destroy your shell world and the ancient alien at it's center that you worship as your world god! Oops, I've said too much.
But that's Matter in a nutshell. It's a huge fat book, written as though it is meant to be read on an IMAX screen, full of widescreen, high-def images and vistas populated with weird worlds and impossible technologies. The presence of the Culture, and the workings of all these competing civilizations are really beside the point because it's the world building and the sheer size of the imaginative project that seems to interest Banks these days. The plot itself is extremely simple, and the initial story of intrigue at the royal court is dwarfed by the galactic tour which follows. And so we travel from here to there, and back again without any real twists or surprises. In fact there is such a Tolkien/Jackson-esque sensibility to the main plot, that it almost comes off as a parody of high fantasy (or would if this weren't Banks, and so hardly anyone gets a happy ending). There's even a big Lucas/Spielberg ending full of cgi-begging pyrotechnics and huge explosions and a Sam Gamgees style epilogue tacked on for good measure.
So it's not where you start that matters, or even where you finish. But it's the travel and the opportunity to see the sites that really counts for something. An irony for someone like Banks who tore up his passport over Britain's involvement in Iraq. So listen, Iain, forget petty stuff like war and politics. It seems to me that you just need to get out a bit more.
Even if you're the king, it doesn't mean you're all powerful. Sure you've got all those lowly peasants groveling about, but you're just the king of one tiny nation. But let's say you're the king of all you can see. Well that's just one country, or one planet.
And what if your planet isn't even a planet but one level among many, nested one inside another, all the way up into space, and all the way down to its mysterious core, like a Russian doll; each with its own climate, rivers, mountains and oceans, each with its own little thermonuclear "rollstars" moving overhead to heat and light the day. And what if this "shellworld," as magnificent as it may be, is just one among many such worlds in a massively expansive universe that's much too big to imagine.
And what if this massively expansive universe is populated with a multitude of civilizations each having achieved a certain level of technological advancement, and having arranged themselves hierarchically, look down upon lower societies with paternalistic amusement, and look up at higher one's with fear and reverence (some having forsaken material existence altogether). Well then you're just getting started (and have we mentioned that you, reader, are very small, and very insignificant).
Because even if you're the king, and you're assassinated, and you're entire realm has been thrown into turmoil by your usurper, how interesting is that going to be to the more advanced and enlightened (the optimae, as they call themselves)? You're just a simple rube with a medieval culture. Wake us up when a powerful alien/machine thing gets dug up by a massive waterfall and attempts to destroy your shell world and the ancient alien at it's center that you worship as your world god! Oops, I've said too much.
But that's Matter in a nutshell. It's a huge fat book, written as though it is meant to be read on an IMAX screen, full of widescreen, high-def images and vistas populated with weird worlds and impossible technologies. The presence of the Culture, and the workings of all these competing civilizations are really beside the point because it's the world building and the sheer size of the imaginative project that seems to interest Banks these days. The plot itself is extremely simple, and the initial story of intrigue at the royal court is dwarfed by the galactic tour which follows. And so we travel from here to there, and back again without any real twists or surprises. In fact there is such a Tolkien/Jackson-esque sensibility to the main plot, that it almost comes off as a parody of high fantasy (or would if this weren't Banks, and so hardly anyone gets a happy ending). There's even a big Lucas/Spielberg ending full of cgi-begging pyrotechnics and huge explosions and a Sam Gamgees style epilogue tacked on for good measure.
So it's not where you start that matters, or even where you finish. But it's the travel and the opportunity to see the sites that really counts for something. An irony for someone like Banks who tore up his passport over Britain's involvement in Iraq. So listen, Iain, forget petty stuff like war and politics. It seems to me that you just need to get out a bit more.
