tl;dr

I can see why people describe this as their favourite Culture novel.

opening remarks

knee-jerk observations

I don’t play computer games – well aside from Ashes Cricket – I’ve never been into card or board games, and most first-person shooters make me nauseous.  So a story about a master game player named Gurgeh (which, when said aloud, sounds like someone choking) shouldn’t be my cup of tea, and yet Banks makes it immediately engaging and immersive.  It’s helped by the presence of an unruly, bitchy drone named Mawhrin-Skel.  Its attitude has already elicited a chuckle:

Make that a second chuckle.  More a guffaw:

The fundamental paradox of a utopia: no risk = no fun.

The game of Stricken between Gurgeh and Olz Hap is genuinely thrilling even if I only have a vague idea as to what’s going on:

Mawhrin-Skel plays the role of the snake in Bank’s Eden, offering Gurgeh the opportunity to be the first person in the Culture to achieve a Full Web in a game of Stricken.  I like that the drone plays to Gurgeh’s concerns that there is nothing to risk in this high-tech utopia:

Mawhrin-Skel blackmails Gurgeh for cheating at Stricken (basically Skel, built to be a military or espionage drone, wants back into the Culture’s Contact division after being rejected for developing a shitty personality).  Angered, frustrated and scared Gurgeh hilariously complains that The Culture – for all its technological achievements – hasn’t invented time travel:

Gurgeh is off to the Empire of Azad.  They are a spacefaring but xenophobic species who have developed a massive, complex game that’s less for entertainment (though it does involve gambling) and more for establishing the power dynamics across their Empire.   Specifically, whoever wins the game becomes Emperor.

They also have three genders which is why we get this explanatory note:

The explanation of the labyrinth and how the Azadians treat those who break the Law might be a gun on the wall or it might be a bit of world-building; whatever the case it’s certainly fascinating:

The drunk and disorderly Ambassador is a bit of a cliche but (a) this one has an awesome name and (b) cliches can still be funny:

I’m in admiration of how Banks takes a game that is mostly incomprehensible to me – I can’t visualise what’s happening on the board – and turns it into a piece of white-knuckle prose.

Have I mentioned I am loving this novel?  Not because it features a ‘dwarfish’ alien mud wrestling a female Azadian.  That sort of base entertainment is for the hoi polloi.  For me, the highlight is the anatomical detail Bank’s provides.

The drone Flere-Imsaho, who has been a kvetchy side-kick for a good chunk of the novel, takes Gurgeh through the back alleys of Azad.  It’s intense stuff: Azadians lying in their own filth or fighting each other or fucking in plain sight.  A male is beaten while others watch.  When Gurgeh moves toward the moaning broken body the drone warns him off:

But what Flere-Imsaho and Gurgeh see on the street, while brutal and senseless, is nothing compared to the video nasties they both witness.  These are exclusive broadcasts for the upper echelons of Azadian society, images not meant to be seen by an outsider, images of torture and depravity.  This section is genuinely shocking, so tonally different to the comedic, playful and James Bond-like aspects of the novel.

The Gist Of It

The Player of Games proves a point I’ve made before that a character doesn’t need to be likeable; he or she just needs to be interesting.  Gurgeh, for me, epitomises that.  He’s arrogant, egotistical and entitled.  When faced with the choice to cheat, and as a result achieve the near impossible, Gurgeh cheats.  He only bemoans his decision when he is blackmailed by a duplicitous drone.  In short, there’s not much to like about Gurgeh as a person.  And yet, the way he views the world when he’s absorbed in the machinations of gameplay is utterly engaging.  As I noted, even though I didn’t understand the rules, the nuts and bolts of each match, coupled with Gurgeh’s religious devotion to each move, made for scintillating reading.  I found it so immersive that it never occurred to me (or Gurgeh for that matter) there was a longer game at play.

It’s more than just Gurgeh’s skills that make this such a terrific read.  For one, there’s Banks sense of humour which, in the first half especially, is a constant companion.  For two, there’s the James Bond thrill of trying to survive the deadly actions of spies and Government agents.  And, most importantly, there’s the battle that informs the whole novel, the war between the Empire of Azad and the Culture, a war played out on a massive game board.

Banks’ exploration of a violent, imperial culture, one that subsumes and destroys those that it invades, isn’t particularly deep or subtle.  The Azad, with their xenophobia, their rigid caste system, their religious fidelity to the game, is depicted for what it is, oppressive and evil.  We get the impression of individuals trying to fight the regime, but they are held to the background. That’s not to say that the Culture is ever made out to be perfect, a shining light of peace and prosperity.  For me, the clear message of the novel is that to maintain a utopia there will always need to be people – or drones – who get their hands dirty.  There’s a degree of realpolitik in this world-view, and it will be interesting to see how and if it develops or changes as I read through the Culture novels.

Pontificating about systems of ideology aside, there’s a great deal to love about The Player of Games.  This year is the novel’s thirtieth anniversary, and yet there’s never a moment when I felt the book was dated or out of step.  Banks take on technology, his view on gender (which I’ve barely discussed) and his story-telling instincts are as fresh and hilariously funny and fascinating as they were when the novel was first published.