Banks is often at his best when he is brutish, and this book is truly a despondent, despairing, and brutal one.

It is better than the credit it is receiving here, but admittedly, it may not be to everyone's taste.

At times, it is abstract and philosophical, and the narrator is far from likeable.

However, it is a gripping and poetic portrayal of the brutality that follows a war or an apocalypse, as well as the breakdown of moral and societal codes.

The story delves deep into the human psyche, exploring the darkest corners of our nature.

It forces the reader to confront the harsh realities of a world gone wrong and the lengths to which people will go to survive.

Despite its flaws, this book is a powerful and thought-provoking read that will stay with you long after you have turned the last page.

It is a testament to Banks' skill as a writer that he can create such a vivid and disturbing world and make us care about the characters who inhabit it.

Whether you love it or hate it, there is no denying that this is a book that demands to be read and discussed.

I have conflicted feelings about this book.

In some ways, the setup is very clever. The way the reader is positioned within the story is quite unique and engaging. It makes you think and question as you progress through the pages.

However, in the end, I was hoping for a lot more from one of my favorite sci-fi authors. Even though I knew going into this read that it wasn't in the sci-fi genre, I still had high expectations.

There are certain violations done not just to the characters in the book but arguably to the reader themselves. These violations left a bad taste in my mouth and made me feel a bit disappointed.

Also, I lost interest in the main character about halfway through. He started off with a certain point, but along the way, he lost me. His actions and decisions didn't resonate with me, and I found myself less and less invested in his story.

Overall, while there were some interesting aspects to this book, it ultimately fell short of my expectations.

Not one I’d read again. It’s quite astonishing to think that the author who wrote “The Crow Road,” one of my all-time favourites, also penned this. Banks’ “The Wasp Factory” is a better point of reference for “A Song of Stone.” Here, you find yourself in the mind of a rather unpleasant character, witnessing the chaos and the descent into barbaric behaviour up close. However, it’s a real struggle to feel any sympathy for him. His excessive verbosity and coldness are more irritating than anything else. The recipient of his ‘love’, Morgan, doesn’t tug at the heartstrings either. She seems fickle, dopey, and almost voiceless. The Lieutenant is perhaps the most interesting of the three characters. But as someone else pointed out, if you reversed it and she was a male character, she would seem like a bit of a by-the-numbers antagonist. She does get a few witty lines at Abel’s expense, which is about as much fun as it gets. It’s all just so depressingly bleak from start to finish. I feel almost relieved that I’m done with it and can put it back on the bookshelf again!

Di Banks really liked La Fabbrica degli Orrori, but I can't say the same about this novel. Although it is steeped in a style that tries at all costs to be poetic and introspective, I found it heavy. The thoughts of the first-person narrator are predominant over the action and the progression of the story which, although interesting, didn't really engage me that much due to the "seen it before" effect. There was no need for this novel to explore human madness and the futility of war, and if the author's intention was to sketch a situation of crazy decadence, in the style of his other mainstream novels, it still seems to me a missed shot. The protagonist is not engaging, he is a whining and passive noble who is carried along by fate and meets a bad end. The only moments of interest I had were towards the end, when finally it seems that the protagonist makes some decisions and takes some risks, but no. In short, there are better things. The arc is completely absent, the secondary characters are cardboard cutouts, the narrator's voice is invasive, and the stream of consciousness goes on and on. Boring. I'm sorry. Time wasted.

A Song of Stone is set in an unnamed war-torn country. It chronicles the misfortunes of an aristocratic couple, Abel and Morgan, as they try to escape their castle due to an unclear military threat. Just hours into their journey, they are stopped by a group of tough soldiers led by a badass lieutenant. Politely but firmly, they are made to return home and are taken prisoner, serving as the lieutenant's local guides.

At first, the couple is treated relatively well by the occupying soldiers. However, things take a dark turn after a wild party, and they find themselves horribly tormented. This novel is one of the most unpleasant I've read. It contains morbid scenes and graphically describes human brutality and vices, much like a real war.

Despite its flaws, the novel has some redeeming features. The prose style is highly impressive, a showcase of Ian Banks' writing skills. It is written in the first person, in the form of a letter or monologue from Abel to Morgan. The novel seems more like an expanded short story or novella, focusing on the strange and unlikeable antihero Abel, his sex life, and the horrors of war, exploring themes of decadence, brutality, and class.

The scope of the novel is narrow, with few locations and characters. While some characters, like Morgan, are not as well-developed as one might hope, the protagonist Abel is interesting enough to hold the reader's attention. The lieutenant is also an engaging character, especially as a female in a male-dominated military setting. The castle itself is almost a character, adding to the atmosphere of the story.

The plot is sparse, with many flashbacks to Abel's past, including numerous descriptions of his sexual encounters with Morgan. The implied incestuous relationship between them is off-putting rather than intriguing. Overall, A Song of Stone is a novel with little plot and few characters, full of morbidity and violence. Its saving grace is the well-written antihero Abel. It is reminiscent of JG Ballard's novels but lacks the charm and theorizing of Ballard's works. It is my least favorite Ian Banks novel so far.

Set against the backdrop of a European war, Banks masterfully lays bare the true horrors of the human animal.

His work is both eloquent and nihilistic, painting a vivid and disturbing picture of the atrocities committed during times of conflict.

The chaos and destruction of war bring out the worst in humanity, and Banks does not shy away from showing the raw and unfiltered reality.

With his powerful words and unflinching gaze, he forces us to confront the dark side of our nature and question the very meaning of civilization.

In a world where violence and bloodshed seem to be the norm, Banks' work serves as a reminder of the importance of peace and the need to strive for a better future.

His writing is a call to action, urging us to look within ourselves and make a conscious effort to change the course of history.

Despite the bleakness of his subject matter, there is a glimmer of hope in Banks' work, a belief that even in the darkest of times, humanity has the potential to rise above its baser instincts and create a more just and equitable world.

Not his best.

This work is rather repetitious. There seems to be less depth and complexity beneath the surface than one might have hoped for. It fails to engage the reader on a deeper level.

Also, it is not sufficiently funny, or horrifying, or poetic, or brutal, or anything that could make it stand out. In fact, it is actually a real bore. This is quite a surprise as I have never felt this way about a Banks book before. His previous works have always managed to capture my attention and leave a lasting impression. However, this one just seems to fall flat. It lacks the spark and energy that I have come to expect from his writing.

Perhaps he was having an off day when he wrote this, or maybe he was trying something new that didn't quite work out. Whatever the reason, I can't help but feel disappointed. I was really looking forward to this book, but unfortunately, it didn't live up to my expectations. I hope that his next work will be more in line with his usual high standards.

This is truly a captivating book.

Virtually every character within it is a rather despicable person, and that includes the protagonist.

The setting is extremely grim, almost to the point of being oppressive.

Yet, it is written with such brilliance and beauty that, despite the rather unpleasant subject matter, I found myself immediately desiring to re-read it.

The writing style possesses the same hallucinatory and hypnotizing quality that can be seen not only in Banks' The Wasp Factory but also in JG Ballard's works such as The Drowned World and Crash.

No matter how horrific and nasty the things you are reading may be, you simply cannot tear your eyes away.

It's as if you are drawn into a strange and disturbing world that you can't escape from, yet you are compelled to keep reading to see what will happen next.

The author has managed to create a literary masterpiece that, despite its flaws, leaves a lasting impression on the reader.

Able, accompanied by his partner Morgan, and carrying their possessions, departs from the castle that has been his family's ancestral home for generations.

They flee into a war-torn country, only to be apprehended by the Lieutenant and her group of men. Recognized as the keepers of the castle, they are forcibly dragged back and compelled to participate in the random destruction of their own home.

Able feels a deep sense of frustration, believing that he should be doing more. He attempts to exact revenge through small means, but all his efforts prove futile.

Ultimately, the war encroaches upon them, and he is confronted with the violent new world. He decides to take part, only to lose everything that is dear to him.

Surprisingly, this story works well despite its vagueness. We are never informed about the cause of the war, the identity of the country, or the last names of any of the characters. Everything remains ambiguous, except for the castle and its immediate environment.

Able, a character whose name belies his true nature, engages in a private war of thoughts that yields no results. When he finally takes action, he is ill-prepared to face the consequences. This is truly a brilliant piece of writing.

Picked this one up as a slightly challenging read after a series of alternating Pratchett and Roman classics.

Having read many of Banks's other books starting with The Wasp Factory when it was his only one, I was looking forward to something interesting. I approached it with no preconceptions.

I found it engaging at the beginning, but soon began to wonder where the story was going. I was certain Banks would surprise me, but he chose to head down a one-way street that I took as a commentary on his own mental state.

Anyway, there are few characters with any depth, and much of what there is is only hinted at. The lieutenant seems to have an unexpected level of good manners and taste suppressed by her current position. The relationship between Abel and his partner is gradually clarified as the narration progresses. Other than the two ladies, neither of which has their own distinct voice, any supporting characters are minor.

The story itself is simple,描绘了在根深蒂固的战争局势中文明行为的衰落. There is a considerable amount of unnecessarily flowery language as Abel reflects on situations. I found myself skipping up to a page at a time as the dense wordplay got bogged down in a self-satisfied mire that added nothing to the narrative.

Banks' concluding chapters are unacceptable. I read his description of the silent partner's demise, but it's a scene I'll never read again. I didn't enjoy it, but read on in the hope of salvation. The final chapter is little more than indulgent wordsmithery nonsense. This isn't a book to re-read unless you're too happy and need to move closer to depression.

Oh, and the descriptions of sexual activity are overdone and self-conscious to the point where you're embarrassingly aware that the author is desperately trying to be smart and original while inevitably and inescapably heading towards a Bad Sex In Fiction award.

I have another Banks novel that I haven't read before on my table, but after this, it's going back on the shelf.

Exceptionally written, dripping with captivating verisimilitude, this article takes readers on an immersive journey.

Every word is carefully chosen to paint a vivid picture in the minds of the audience.

The author's skillful use of language creates a sense of authenticity that makes the story come alive.

From the very first sentence, readers are drawn in and unable to put the article down.

The narrative unfolds with a seamless flow, guiding the reader through a series of events that are both engaging and thought-provoking.

The attention to detail is remarkable, adding depth and richness to the overall experience.

Whether it's the description of a character's emotions or the setting of a scene, everything is presented with such clarity and precision that it feels as if the reader is actually there.

This article is a true masterpiece, a testament to the power of great writing.

As others have noted in reviews, this is truly unlike anything you have read by Iain M. Banks in numerous ways. It is an extremely dark and depressing work. It delves into the topic of war, and Iain's take on it is, unsurprisingly, brutal.

He often waxes philosophical in his other books about various topics such as mortality and the existence of a god or gods. I truly love these condensed and perfect musings whenever I come across them.

In the final moments of this book, we are presented with this amazing paragraph:

“The very intuition there must be something else beyond this physical world makes me guess it’s wrong. We set ourselves up too thoroughly in this, and if we must indulge in such anthropopathism at all, why then I’d claim that reality could hardly miss a chance so tempting, and must feel duty-bound to let us down. The way things happen, just how they operate, includes an all-embracing brusqueness, an encompassing lack of ceremony and respect against which we can shore all our pious holdings and most cherished institutions and which we may rail against and oppose for exactly as long as we live, but which includes all our aspirations and degradations, all our promise and losses and all we do and all we don’t, and which sweeps us in the end aside with less effort than metaphor can convey.”

Damn, dude. Same.

Throughout the book, we witness that the story Banks is telling is about how war makes humanity careless with life. He completely decouples it from any kind of portrayed bravery or purpose. We never even understand there to be a side in this war; it's all mindless roving bands fighting to survive and killing for banal daily stupid reasons. It leaves us to experience it as a raw pulling back of the curtain of society to expose a horrid and bleak truth. War strips humanity of the sacred, of the sanctity of life. It is a thorough unmaking of our reality.