That was a slog.
After eight years of waiting for Banks to write a new Culture novel, I’m sure fans were ecstatic when Matter came out and it was so weighty, the longest ever Culture novel to that point (I believe Surface Detail, the next one, is a little longer). As a fan of Stephen King you’d think I’d be comfortable with door-stoppers, but as I’ve become older, wiser and increasingly impatient, any book that exceeds 80,000 words makes my heart sink a little.
Matter is 180,000 words.
Of course, if the length were justified I wouldn’t give a shit, but the plot that Banks serves up is taken straight from the epic fantasy handbook. Prince Ferbin of Sarl, egotist and philanderer, witnesses the murder of his father, the King, at the hands of his right-hand man, Mertis
Yes, I know what you die-hard Culture fans are going to say, the story is more complicated than that. For one, the pre-industrial kingdom of Sarl is located on the eighth level of a Shellworld named Sursamen (you might remember Shellworlds from Consider Phlebas). These are planets that were built, Magrathean-style, by an ancient civilisation (now deceased). They are layered like an onion, with multiple levels that are accessed via towers that bisect the planet. The
Second off, Ferbin and Oramen’s sister, Djan Seriy Anaplian, was – a decade previously – handed over to the Culture as payment for services rendered by a Culture agent. In the years that follow Anaplian becomes a member of Special Circumstances – the covert arm of the Culture. When she hears about the death of her father and brother she decides to head back to Sursamen. Anaplian is a great character, that rare occasion where Banks gives a meaty role to a woman, one who is confident, empowered and smart.
Third, and finally, an archeological dig on the ninth level of Sursamen has uncovered an artefact that has the Oct in a tizzy. They believe this might be a relic left behind by the creators of the Shellworld, beings they idolise.
So, yes, Matter is more than just a ho-hum tale about a King betrayed on a paper-thin secondary world. The problem is that too much of the plot centres on the political machinations of Loesp, whose ambition and moustache twirling plans I couldn’t give a toss about. Oramen’s ability to avoid assassination attempts, mostly through luck, rather than skill, is also irritating. But what kills the novel’s momentum dead is Ferbin’s trip, with his Baldrick inspired dogsbody Holse, across the galaxy to seek assistance from the Culture agent that visited Sursamen a decade previously. Not only does their quest seem to last for an eternity, once Ferbin reaches his destination and meets the now ex-Culture agent he receives no help at all and instead is “gifted” a patronising, albeit vaguely interesting, Philosophy 101 conversation about epistemology and war.
It’s not until the final third of the novel – which I won’t spoil – that the plodding, stodgy plot slips into turbo mode. I zipped through the last 130 or so pages, the ending as cinematic as anything Banks has written – at least in terms of The Culture books. I even liked the abrupt ending. But fuck me, I had to eat a shitload of broccoli to get there.