Remembering Iain M. Banks
On June 9th, 2013, one of the greatest modern writers of science fiction was lost to us after a long, harrowing struggle with cancer. For those of you not in the know, Iain Banks was, in may ways, the father of the modern cinematic science fiction: he was a weaver of worlds, of powerful imagery, of wide-screen infinite-budget CGI borne from a very rich imagination.
Born February 15th, 1954 to a professional ice-skater mother and an Admiralty Officer father, Banks decided that the one thing he always ever wanted to do was to just…write. From the age of 11, he began the long process of weaving worlds, which produced an entire novel (the Hungarian Lift-Jet) by the age of 16. After finishing his very first honest-to-God novel, the Wasp Factory, in 1984, Iain had apparently worn a considerable number of typewriters down, which led his agent to agree with him in a one-book-per-year deal. Iain (reluctantly) agreed.
His work has been adapted into television series, radio-dramas and a theater play, called The Curse of Iain Banks. A politically active and terrifyingly imaginative man, Iain Banks did his absolute best to be a man of the world and a writer first, instead of simply resting in his polymer-based orbital palace he’d built for himself thanks to his work.