So this book was recommended to me more than a decade ago along with The Wasp Factory.

I initially read The Wasp Factory right away and found it less than impressive. So I put this one off.

A few years back, I gave it a try but couldn't get past 100 pages.

This time, I was determined to finish it. I restarted and slowly made my way through.

I realize I'm in the minority in the ratings for this book, but I persisted, hoping to understand the excitement I'd heard about.

However, all I got was boredom. There were no events to speak of.

I frequently lost track of the story because there really wasn't one.

The opening sentence of this book had generated a lot of buzz, but unfortunately, that was probably the best sentence in the entire book.

More boredom ensued. More nothing happened.

At 501 pages, I'd say there were maybe 14 pages that were remotely interesting.

Wow. Maybe I'm done with Banks. Clearly, his work just doesn't appeal to me. It's just bad.

Uh... this review is starting to resemble the book. It's rambling, lacking conclusions, has no plot, and the characters are boring. Uh...

Being so deeply moved by the final words that I find myself whimpering as my tear ducts spring into action. Having a little cry is an amazing form of catharsis. It should be the very reason I read books, but it hasn't occurred to this extent before. In the past, the most I've experienced is chills. The way Prentice accepts everything and looks towards the future is truly touching.

This is the kind of book that makes one reflect on their own life. It is similar to 'Secret History' in the experiences each presents. It's for the complex relationships and the yearning narrator. What haunts is his obsession with those in his life. He thinks deeply about his family and friends. He admires them. All the successes of these people he knows, or their beliefs, the marks they make, even if that mark is simply being able to admire a loveable/beautiful woman up close.

It has the same kind of impact as 'Normal People' or Mia Hansen-Løve's works. Prentice and his passion constantly crush me. The first time my eyes started tingling was when we saw Rory for the last time. The hurt for Rory is evident in Prentice's eager wonderment. 'Crow Road' being unfinished or undiscovered didn't seem like a devastating blow to Scottish literature, but as part of this romantic (drifter, writer, loved one) uncle's otherwise unattainable, hidden story, it is crucial.

This is a heady, dramatic marvel. I knew that Banks might become a favorite author. His bibliography shows a prescient skill gap ahead of Rob Doyle. I foresee him competing strongly with Alasdair Gray, but I can't say one will surpass the other without delving into Banks' oeuvre, which I will do. Jack London is someone I greatly respect even after only reading one of his masterworks and some other really good but not the best fiction from him. I wonder how people like Dickens and Dostoevsky compare to my current favorites. I must also read Donna Tartt to completion - that seems like the easier feat among these greats.

After passionately discussing Alasdair Gray and Scotland with people I met during my euro travels, the older ones mentioned Iain Banks. I had heard of him and already had this book on my to-read list as it has always been (striking) on my dad's bookshelf (did Banks design his covers?). I thank Alasdair Gray for representing modern Scottish literature and allowing his work, and inspiring others to follow suit, in its whimsicality and reverence for his country and its people. Can one use the term pastoral when imagining Glasgow's surrounding areas? I would think of them as townships, but there isn't an equivalent word to describe the people and their lives in relatively dense ~cities.

Iain Banks.

Every time I embark on the process of choosing the next book to devour, and one of his titles surfaces, I find myself pondering, hmmm...should I take the plunge now? Or perhaps I should hold off until I'm truly prepared; for a momentous occasion maybe.

The truth is, Iain Banks is an exceptionally unique writer. One must be in the right frame of mind for him as his narratives demand a great deal of concentration and patience. This is precisely what sets him apart and makes him remarkable. Almost invariably, there is a reward that makes all the speculation about where his story is headed more than worthwhile.

Take Walking on Glass, for instance. The manner in which he weaved everything together was sheer brilliance.

The Crow Road is likely one of his most approachable novels. It revolves around Prentice McHoan and his family in a Scottish village. The story progresses with alternating perspectives and seamlessly shifts back and forth between flashbacks and the present day.

By employing this technique, Banks gradually peels away the layers of the story, and as a reader, I relish sitting back and allowing it all to unfold before my eyes.

The end result was decent, but not overly devastating or shocking, which was a bit of a letdown for me. However, Banks is such a joy to read, and constructing a storyline through these layers serves as a reminder of just how much fun reading can be, irrespective of the ultimate outcome.

So, upon completing it, I initially intended to rate The Crow Road three stars. But after reflecting on how I felt during the reading process, it's an easy decision to upgrade this novel to a very solid four.

The Crow Road by Iain Banks is a novel that starts with a memorable line: "It was the day my grandmother exploded." This line sets the tone for the rest of the book, which is full of pithy one-liners and hooks. However, aside from the occasional amusement, the book didn't have a profound impact on me.

The narrative style is vertiginous, with constant switches in time and focus. At first, it's difficult to identify a main character or plot, but as the story progresses, it becomes clear that the novel follows Prentice through a fairly linear plot, with flashbacks and vignettes of his family's history.
The history of Prentice's family is eventful, but not overly so. The novel introduces a cast of characters, each with their own quirks and personalities. However, the story follows a predictable path, and I wasn't surprised by any of the incidents.
Overall, the novelty of the bizarre incidents and one-liners wore off quickly, and I didn't find the book to be particularly deep. The only challenging aspect was the non-linear plot structure, but even that was relatively easy to understand once I latched onto the main through line.
To be fair, I'm not a fan of strictly realistic fiction, and the book's contemplation on religion didn't interest me. With these disclaimers in mind, I'd rate the book three stars out of five.

I was truly expecting more, especially considering the book jacket blurb by Irvine Welsh which stated, “…Banks is one of Britain's best living writers.”

And perhaps he is. There are indeed some sparks of greatness within his work. This can be seen from the very beginning of the book in question, with the first two sentences: “It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mass in B Minor, and I reflected that it always seemed death that drew me back to Gallanach.”

Doesn't that sound promising? However, unfortunately, the story just really never “takes off” after that initial hook. I might be completely wrong and Banks could indeed be one of the GREATEST writers. But when it comes to personal preference, I find that I like Welsh, McGahern, Barnes, and others better. Their works seem to have a certain something that Banks' novel in this case just lacks. Maybe it's the pacing, or perhaps it's the development of the characters and the plot. Either way, for me, this particular book didn't quite live up to the expectations set by the blurb and the initial promising start.

To quote my friend in similar situations, "Wait! What?!!!"

In short, I am extremely disappointed. The story initially presented as a slow-paced coming-of-age tale, delving into the musings of a wealthy, spoiled student regarding sex, life/death, and religion. However, it then transformed into a murder mystery that only the aforementioned student could solve. Seriously?

(Note to the police detective: it's called "check the phone records, matey!")

I firmly believe that I would have been less let down if the story had simply ended unresolved at page 400. Because truly, it only deteriorated from that point on. It's really a pity.

Had I not received another Iain Banks book from my partner for Christmas (and now I have to read it ;)), I likely would have remained a one-Banks-book reader. Once again, it's really too bad.

I'm very curious to know how the rest of my book club group felt about it.

Recently, I happened to come across this book again.

It truly merits a reread. I purchased it from one of those book clubs that were organized through magazines at that time.

I vividly recall that it was an outstanding book, and I used to read it during the nights when I was a student nurse.

The memories associated with this book are precious.

As I embark on rereading it, I look forward to delving deeper into its pages and rediscovering the essence that made it so captivating in the first place.

I am certain that this reread will bring back a flood of emotions and new insights.

Once I have completed the reread, I will pen a proper review, sharing my thoughts and feelings about this remarkable book with others.

I'm a die-hard fan of IB's, and I have derived great pleasure from reading some of his books. Dead Air, in particular, stands out as one of the absolute best reads I've ever had. There are a couple of others that would easily make it into the top twenty.

However, I have to admit that I didn't take a liking to this particular one. In fact, I couldn't even bring myself to finish it. Some people claim that it's his seminal work, the pinnacle of his career. But I beg to differ. Maybe I felt that it was a bit dated. Certainly, the Scottishness of it really got under my skin. I found it extremely hard to get through, and it seemed to be going nowhere.

Perhaps I should have persevered with it for a longer period? But I don't think so. I consider myself lucky to have escaped from this one, in my humble opinion.

The Crow Road by Iain M. Banks is not his best book, but it's understandable why it's his most popular.

It has a catchy opening: "It was the day my grandmother exploded." This line appears on many "best opening lines" lists and for good reason. It's intriguing and a great hook.

The characters, like the McHoans, Urvills, and Watts, are some of Banks' most likable, despite their eccentricities.

The plot is accessible to mainstream audiences, mixing a jilted lover tale, a quiet murder mystery, and a generational family soap opera with a Scottish castle and Observatory.

The pacing is compelling, with a languid build that keeps the reader engaged until the "can't-put-it-down" part kicks in around page 350. It's perfect for a long weekend on Loch Lomand.

However, the narrator, Prentice, is not likable until late in the novel. He whines, moans, and has a sense of entitlement that can be tiring. But this was Banks' intention, to make his growth more believable.

Paradoxically, the book also has the author's favorite supporting character, Prentice's father, Kenneth McHoan. He's a cool guy and a great Dad, with his River Game politics, love for his son, and wonderful death.

Overall, The Crow Road is a good read, with some beautiful moments, but it's not one of Iain Banks' best. His best books are often too dark, challenging, or creative for most readers.

Nevertheless, Banks is a favorite of the author, and they encourage others to give him a try.

I had managed to get a whole third of the way through the book. However, last night, I came to the realization that I simply didn't have the slightest interest in picking it back up. So, it's now going on the Did Not Finish pile.

By that point in the book, I was truly hoping that there would be some actual plot development. But alas, it was still just a bunch of people aimlessly wandering around with no clear direction to the narrative.

Adding to the frustration was the fact that the author jumps between characters and time periods with such wild abandon and without providing any assistance to the reader. I quickly grew tired of having to constantly figure out when and who I was reading about. This not only made the reading experience more difficult but also seriously exacerbated the feeling that absolutely nothing was actually happening in the book.

It's a real pity because the premise had seemed quite interesting initially, but unfortunately, the execution just didn't live up to my expectations.

Man, this book was truly great!!

It's a long and sprawling story that follows a Scottish guy and his countless cousins, aunts, and uncles. Amazingly, almost every single one of them is delightful and has their own unique personality.

There were certain parts of this book that actually made me burst out laughing. And the plot near the end takes an unexpected turn, especially considering that most of the book is spent simply meandering around Scotland and exploring this guy's family tree. Hahaha.

The style can be a little opaque at times. There were definitely moments when I would start reading a sentence and then zone out halfway through because the sentences were so verbose. LOL. It's like punctuation who???? Clear and concise wording whaaaaat???

But then, there would be a chapter that details the main character's dad's life when he was young, or a point of view of the protagonist as a child through the eyes of his loving family members. OH BE STILL MY ACHEY HEART.

Love (and a surprisingly high amount of death??) flourishes and grows within this tangled Scottish community.

Overall, this book is a captivating read that combines humor, drama, and a rich exploration of family and community.

It was the day my grandmother exploded.

These are the opening and deliciously enticing lines of what is arguably Banks' finest literary moment. The story commences at a family funeral. Similar to many of his books, it is set in a small and fictional Scottish location. However, it also features and makes reference to numerous real-life places as well. Not least is the street named in the title, which can be found in Glasgow's west end.

This is a dark and sinister tale, one of obsession. It is also the story of a young man's search for meaning in the world, featuring a cast of intriguing and compelling individuals. The narrative does jump around a bit and is told from multiple perspectives, which keeps the reader on their toes. Nevertheless, it is ultimately more than worth the patience and concentration to stick with it. The beauty of Banks' writing lies in his ability to effortlessly weave darkness, humour, and mystery into his work, which is precisely why his writing is so compelling.

Banks has a unique talent for creating a world that is both captivating and disturbing. His characters are well-developed and complex, and the story unfolds in a way that keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end. Despite the darkness and mystery, there are also moments of humour that lighten the mood and add depth to the story. Overall, this is a remarkable piece of literature that showcases Banks' exceptional writing skills.