My introduction to Iain Banks was through his dazzling debut novel, The Wasp Factory. Then I read as much of his novels as I could find, including this one. I picked up Walking On Glass again recently and found the original sale receipt I’d used as a bookmark. It was twenty years old.
Time indeed changes everything. The first thing that struck me on rereading this novel was how amateur the writing seemed in parts – the amount of “telling” rather than “showing”, the lame dialogue, the overuse of metaphor, and characters that, for me, were either unconvincing or not worth caring about. While this is Banks’s second novel, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that parts of it, particularly the Graham and Stephen sections, may have been written a long time ago -- before even The Wasp Factory.
This novel is presented in three separate threads with three main characters, Graham, Stephen and Quiss. Graham meets Sara at a London party and is smitten. Stephen, also in London, has lost his job due to his mental health issues. Quiss exists in a castle-like prison in an alternate universe with a female companion, desperately trying to work out the solution to the puzzle that will grant their freedom.
For starters, Graham is too much of a wimp to be likeable. Should we have sympathy for his situation, that inability to talk to the attractive stranger? Sure, lots of us have been there. But does he do anything about it? No. Sara kisses him and he walks home with his head in the clouds. In the five hours(!) it takes him to walk home in the cold from Islington to Leyton, a fleet of number 38 buses (or N38 night buses) would have passed him, for a fare that was less than the price of a pint at the Baker’s Arms. Later, this distance doesn’t seem to be a problem and Graham comes and goes as if he lives around the corner.
Stephen’s mental problems? Well, I’d wager there was no research done -- Stephen’s “loony” behaviour doesn’t fit any identifiable mental illness, and it’s hard to imagine him having the self-control to be the voracious fantasy novel reader he’s portrayed to be.
The Quiss and Ajayi sections work quite well for me, however. The description of a minion’s “taking apart” by Quiss is particularly memorable, and I get the feeling sci-fi is where Banks’s preferences and ability truly lie.
But then we’re back to the two “mainstream” sections and annoying inconsistencies. The phonetic representation of Cockney, Scottish and Irish accents when Stephen goes to the park is particularly overdone and annoying, and in the case of the Irish accent, completely wrong.
And Banks’s ubiquitous love of the “Tom Swifties” is in full flow here. I opened my paperback version at pages 14 and 15. It included these beauties:
“…”, Graham interrupted
“…”, Slater said melodramatically
“…”, Slater laughed
“…”, Graham said contemptuously
“…”, Slater mused
“…”, Slater said dramatically
And this was a random page selection -- there’s probably worse.
For sure I’m going into the kind of detail that some reviewers might find over-the-top, but there is a point. For me, anything that causes me to do a double-take when I’m reading a story breaks the magic – that magic where narrative, dialogue, characters and effective description carry you away to fictive dreamland. I’m afraid that break happened once too often with Walking On Glass and I just couldn’t get into it.
Despite all this I like Banks as a writer. Unfortunately, I think Walking On Glass is, in perhaps a metaphor he might like, his equivalent of the difficult second album.