This book is truly for those who are the genuine connoisseurs of misery, such as myself. I have a penchant for Beckett, Kafka, and Lautremont, and the music of Nick Cave, Swans, and Smog. So, perhaps it applies to me. In short, if you're seeking a cheerful read, then it's best to turn away now. You'd be better off pouring yourself a G&T, strolling into the garden, and delving into some more P.G. Wodehouse.

Although I was mentally prepared for this to be a dystopian, post-apocalyptic kind of novel, I was somewhat taken aback by its writing style. The narrator, at times, is unbelievably vague or indifferent. In fact, the opening sentence serves as a prime example, where the narrator seems uncertain whether it's winter or not and even appears unclear on how winter is defined. The narration does tend to be a bit obscure at times. However, as the story unfolds and we gain more insights into the narrator, his history, and the situation he finds himself in, it starts to make a certain kind of sense.

At first, I wasn't overly enthusiastic about this book. But by around page sixty, when the narrator goes hunting with some of the'soldiers', it began to pique my interest. The narrator started making unusual decisions and seemed more engaging, albeit still unlikeable. He seemed to derive a perverse pleasure from his own misery and obstinacy.

The book starts off poorly and progressively worsens for just about every character within its pages. Enjoy!

My wife recently devoured all of the Hitchhikers series by Douglas Adams.

Subsequently, she practically inhaled Ian McEwan's Cement Garden in one sitting. During this process, she noted that while Douglas Adams is highly entertaining, McEwan's work is true writing.

Similarly, my own speculative musings and explorations have been engaging, but I recognize that Banks has a true panache when it comes to描绘 the dystopic.

This powerful fable is pervaded with the odors of Hamlet. Incest and madness are equally prominent as a form of preamble until everything comes crashing down as guns, tribalism, and revenge combine to undermine the Social Contract.

The prose is exquisitely crafted, yet the subject matter is deeply disturbing. Song of Stones seems as universal and timeless as Banks’ Transition appears dated.

It's fascinating to see the different styles and themes that these authors explore, and how they all manage to capture our attention and imagination in their own unique ways.

Whether it's the humorous and absurd world of Douglas Adams, the intense and psychological depth of Ian McEwan, or the thought-provoking dystopias of Iain Banks, each writer has something valuable to offer.

As readers, we are fortunate to have access to such a rich and diverse range of literary works.

This is a really awful and dark book. I just couldn't understand why it was written in the first place.

And to be honest, I also didn't understand why I read it. It was such a waste of my time.

The story was so gloomy and depressing that it made me feel really down.

I don't think I would recommend this book to anyone.

Maybe some people like this kind of dark and twisted stories, but it's definitely not for me.

I prefer books that are more positive and uplifting.

Well, at least I can say that I tried reading this book, but I won't be reading it again.

I truly have a great affection for the majority of Iain Banks’ literary works. His books often possess a certain charm and depth that draw me in.

However, this particular one failed to have the same impact on me. In fact, it completely missed the mark.

The protagonist, to my dismay, was extremely irritating and overly pretentious. His actions and behaviors grated on my nerves, making it difficult for me to engage with the story on a deeper level.

Although there were indeed some passages of beautiful prose within the book, it simply wasn't enough to salvage the overall experience for me. The flaws in the character outweighed the beauty of the writing, leaving me feeling disappointed and unfulfilled.

Overall, while I still appreciate Iain Banks as an author, this particular book will not be one that I will remember fondly.

Originally published on my blog here in September 1999.

A Song of Stone delves into the complex relationships between people and places. It commences with the nobleman Abel fleeing with his mistress and some servants from the castle that has been his lifelong abode. Fearing its destruction at the hands of a band of soldiers pillaging the country due to the anarchy following a civil war, they are intercepted during their flight. Forced to return to the castle, which the lieutenant and her followers aim to make their stronghold, the stage is set for a conflict of perspectives.

The core of the novel lies in the contrast between Abel and the lieutenant's group's attitudes towards the castle and its rich artistic treasures. While Abel has been indifferent to them throughout his life, witnessing their slow but certain misuse and destruction deeply affects him. The lieutenant, on the other hand, appears to want to preserve the art but does little to stop her men from raiding the wine cellars and rampaging through the castle. Interestingly, another part of Abel takes a perverse pleasure in the senseless destruction.

The novel is narrated by Abel to his lover, a strange, passive, and silent woman who was raised with him almost as a sister. The consistent use of the second person in the narrative is an unusual and unsettling device. It casts the reader into the role of a passive observer, creating a sense of unease. This deliberate effect is highly successful, albeit unnerving.

Another aspect that adds to the unsettling atmosphere is the setting. The war-torn country is anonymous, yet it feels uncomfortably close to home. The neo-Gothic castle depicted in the cover illustration enhances this feeling, making it seem like a Scottish stately home built for shooting parties by a nineteenth-century grandee. The technology is clearly twentieth-century, leading the reader to wonder what they would do if a similar vicious civil war broke out today.

Initially, A Song of Stone may seem to lack the depth of most of Banks' novels, although he does make some thought-provoking points. For example, the way Abel and his ilk treated people as possessions is highlighted by his ignorance of the name of his most faithful old servant when the man dies and the lieutenant suggests erecting a gravestone. Its main flaw, shared with two other Banks novels I like least, Canal Dreams and Complicity, is an uninvolving central character.

Based in a country that is in a somewhat post-apocalyptic and war-torn state, the book delves into various elements such as sentimentality, conservation, necessity, nihilism, egocentrism, loss, and oppression. It presents a vivid and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition in such a harsh environment.

The book is written in a very poetic style, seen through the eyes of the owner of a recently occupied castle. The story unfolds over a period of just a few days, yet it is filled with a series of interesting and dramatic encounters that keep the reader engaged from start to finish.

Banks masterfully portrays the helplessness of a protagonist who was once powerful. In this world, rogue militia enforce a regime that is deeply disturbing to those of us accustomed to modern norms. However, the book also sheds a revealing light on the true nature of war and the consequences that are forced upon its "survivors".

Overall, I truly enjoyed this piece of work. It is beautifully descriptive, painting a vivid picture of the post-apocalyptic world, and in some places, it is controversial, challenging our preconceived notions. The themes it explores are akin to an amalgamation of "The Road" and "The Lord of the Flies", making it a must-read for fans of dystopian literature.

Beautiful prose indeed, but it seems to be overly self-indulgent.

One can't help but think that it might have been better served if it were transformed into a long-form poem.

Rather than attempting to force it into the confines of this fictional tale, allowing it to flow freely as a poem could have enhanced its beauty and impact.

The words, so carefully crafted, deserve a more unrestricted medium to truly shine.

Perhaps then, the emotions and ideas expressed within would have been able to reach a wider audience and have a more profound effect.

As it stands now, the prose feels somewhat constricted within the framework of the fictional story.

It would be interesting to see how it would fare if given the opportunity to exist as a long-form poem, unburdened by the need to conform to the rules of fiction.

Quite a grim tale indeed unfolds, presenting a vivid picture of people who find themselves ensnared in the grisly, bloody, and violent era of civil war. Amidst the chaos, there are roving bands of militia, adding to the turmoil and danger. The narrator of this story is a complex character. He or she is neither particularly likeable nor dislikeable. Instead, the narrator is extremely stoic, remaining composed in the face of such horrors. Moreover, the narrator is a keen observer, noticing the smallest details and nuances of the situation. The book, which tells this harrowing story, is beautifully written. It delves deep into the nature of humanity and inhumanity, asking countless questions that make the reader reflect. This work is truly a masterpiece, thoroughly superb in every sense.

Probably a 3.5

I found that there were large portions of the book that I truly liked. The way the story was told had its own charm. However, there were some aspects that I could have done without. In particular, the reminiscing about the narrator's sexual relationship with his wife seemed a bit out of place and unnecessary. It didn't really add much to the overall narrative for me. On the other hand, I really appreciated the fact that there wasn't an overly elaborate explanation for everything. The rich history of the castles and the way the class dynamics were played out in a time when there was no dignity and no proper social structure made for a very interesting read. It gave me a good sense of the setting and the challenges that the characters faced. Overall, while there were some drawbacks, I still enjoyed a significant part of the book.

After the relatively pleasant nature of the previous few books, we now find ourselves plunged back into full-on grimdark mode with this edge-of-war novel. Set in an unnamed location, it features a protagonist who is deeply complex and amoral. He is desperately trying to stay alive as a group of soldiers take over his ancestral home.

I'm afraid this isn't really the book for those who thought "The Crow Road" had a somewhat sarcastic tone. However, it's great for everyone else.

In 2022, upon rereading, I realized that this is a much better book than I had remembered. It is nasty and amoral, and the setting is so vague that many readers believe it to be a futuristic dystopia, even though it was written during the height of the Bosnian War and evokes a lot of imagery that we became familiar with from that conflict.

In some places, it is a bit overly flowery, and our narrator is a sneering upper-class twit who may or may not deserve all that befalls him. It's also a novel told in the first person and in the present tense, which I typically hate but is almost justified here.

Although it has its flaws, they are not fatal.

(3.5 stars)

I read this as an Iain Banks-introductory first course before one day taking on his highly acclaimed first novel, "The Wasp Factory". "A Song of Stone" is the only Banks novel available in our library. So, despite numerous warnings I've come across online stating that "'A Song of Stone' should not be the first book you read of Banks' work", I still chose this one to get a taste of his writing.

I now think perhaps I should have listened to those warnings. This is truly an exasperating novel. The somewhat thin apocalyptic storyline is almost completely drowned out by a deluge of overly verbose language. However, Banks' storytelling ability compels you to wade through the bleak, dream-like, mood piece-y, poetic nonsense and reach the essence of the tale.

A lord and lady of a castle (in an unspecified location, likely in the rural countryside) are compelled to join a mass exodus during an unspecified war. A female lieutenant of a ragtag group of soldiers plucks the lord and lady from the crowd of countryside residents and forces them back to the castle, hoping to turn it into a wartime stronghold. That's about the extent of the plot. But with this whisper-thin kernel of an idea, Banks transforms it into something much more significant and far-reaching.

Oh, and then there's that ewwwww-inducing, jaw-dropping denouement (where the hero becomes... well, not so heroic). Anything more said about that would definitely be a spoiler. Despite all the convoluted prose, Banks has crafted a (diseased) classic and has definitely piqued my interest in his other works.

Banks should be awarded for creating the most irritating protagonist in fiction.

This book is tediously and pompously narrated by a wealthy, castle-dwelling young man following the outbreak of a war, the cause or purpose of which is never elucidated. The narration is addressed to his girlfriend, who is an entirely passive and uninteresting character. Late in the novel, a single throwaway line offers a reason for her passivity, but it is neither engaging nor startling. I guessed the relationship between them long before it was disclosed, and that too was not very interesting or shocking.

After completing this book, I am uncertain what its intended point was. It consists of a couple of hundred pages of people scurrying around in a post-apocalyptic dystopia, killing one another. With the possible exception of Morgan, for whom I felt a tinge of pity, there was no one I particularly desired to survive. By the end of the book, I wished someone would promptly kill Abel just to silence him.

I am a fan of Iain Bank's Culture sci-fi series and have relished some of his other fiction, but I failed to see the merit in this one.