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A review by kleonora
The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks
2.0
Verdict: A twisted and deeply uncomfortable postmodern gothic horror that, though not without literary merit, I just couldn't stomach.
Let it be stated that I am a sensitive soul. As a child I was known to cry when the wind was mean to Piglet on blustery days. As an adult I've gotten over it, but just barely. Needless to say when I turned to page 1 of The Wasp Factory and saw the first chapter entitled 'Sacrifice Poles' I had an inkling I was in for a bumpy ride. I wasn't wrong. A review snippet on the cover refers to this book as a gothic horror but I think a much fairer representation was the back blurb quoting our protagonist as he ticks off the three family members he murdered while still under the age of 8 (victims and killer alike).
To be fair, its the animals that get the worst of it. Used in a flippantly background manner as decoration and target practice, the true highlights include tying gulls together as observing as a leisure activity, castration via dog and fire. Fire is it's own topic because there are many things set alight. Batches of bunnies are incinerated on two occasions, and then there's sheep, wasps and, of course, dogs. Many many dogs. Frank, our protagonist, draws the line at dogs. For my own part I consider it a thin line between dogs and bunnies, but was grateful nonetheless. I read this book quickly because I wanted it to end. It was upsetting. Go to bed at night I would cover it with my tome of the Complete Cases of Sherlock Holmes so that, on the off chance that a character got out 'Sophie's World' style Sherlock could deal with them. Hopefully.
In terms of synopsis there's not much I can say without saying too much. The story centres on Frank who lives with his Dad on an island outside the town of Port Neil Scotland which I shall henceforth imagine precisely as the village from League of Gentlemen. The plot is driven by Frank's brother who escapes from his asylum and starts making his way home on a journey littered with flaming canines and phone calls worthy of The Joker. While we wait for Steven to arrive we get to learn about Frank, his likes (dams, fratricide) dislikes (women, the sea) and hobbies (inventing wasp-killing death machines).
If it sounds horrible it's because it starts that way, but, in the interest of full disclosure I found the book improved as you went on. I'm not sure if this is due to a quantifiable drop in horrible or if I just acclimated. I do, however, recall at one point appreciating the poetry of a child murder via kite, so I rather suspect the latter. Nevertheless at three quarters in I was beginning to warm (ok thaw) towards The Wasp Factory. The writing is good, I admitted as much right at the start, evocative but straight-forward, even when jumping in time and, against all odds of subject matter, dryly humorous. The story, also was beginning to grip and I could no longer pretend to be reading quickly just to be done with it. In fact I was reading it on the train home when I inexorably got to the dead baby.
In my heart of hearts I knew it would come to Dead Baby (well, either Dead Baby or Creepy Sex Stuff) but it was still worse than I could have imagined. Mostly because I am not a descendant of Mengele. I skimmed as best I could, while making a noise like a tiny stream of air being let out of a balloon. It spent the next few hours festering in my soul and I'm afraid I can't encourage the rot by elaborating any further. Go read the GD book yourself. As far as I was concerned this was a shut case. The Dead Baby rule is one of my oldest and simplest; if the baby dies I do not like the book. (see Faust and Grapes of Wrath)
My glimmer of the hope of literary merit extinguished I once again put my head down and ploughed through the remaining pages. As it turns out, the blip on the cover was perfectly correct in labelling this a gothic novel. Gothic novels are always identifiable by their endings which involve a clash of secrets revealed, a great big fire and (invariably) a woman hidden in a secret room. You read a gothic novel for the ending, they are the pay-off, the best part, nay, reason for the preceding story. It was to my irritation that this held true for The Wasp Factory.
The ending was excellent. It has all the right ingredients but deconstructed postmodern-like. You (or at least I) didn't see it coming once it happened the whole book made sense while becoming entirely different. The Wasp Factory is, I must admit, a good book. That is why it gets 2 stars instead of 1. This might seem a bit of a low score from an admittedly worthy work of literature, but that's The Dead Baby rule for you. I simply cannot bring myself to like, recommend or revisit this novel. If it sounds like your cup of tea however, go for it. I won't judge you. That's God's job.
Let it be stated that I am a sensitive soul. As a child I was known to cry when the wind was mean to Piglet on blustery days. As an adult I've gotten over it, but just barely. Needless to say when I turned to page 1 of The Wasp Factory and saw the first chapter entitled 'Sacrifice Poles' I had an inkling I was in for a bumpy ride. I wasn't wrong. A review snippet on the cover refers to this book as a gothic horror but I think a much fairer representation was the back blurb quoting our protagonist as he ticks off the three family members he murdered while still under the age of 8 (victims and killer alike).
To be fair, its the animals that get the worst of it. Used in a flippantly background manner as decoration and target practice, the true highlights include tying gulls together as observing as a leisure activity, castration via dog and fire. Fire is it's own topic because there are many things set alight. Batches of bunnies are incinerated on two occasions, and then there's sheep, wasps and, of course, dogs. Many many dogs. Frank, our protagonist, draws the line at dogs. For my own part I consider it a thin line between dogs and bunnies, but was grateful nonetheless. I read this book quickly because I wanted it to end. It was upsetting. Go to bed at night I would cover it with my tome of the Complete Cases of Sherlock Holmes so that, on the off chance that a character got out 'Sophie's World' style Sherlock could deal with them. Hopefully.
In terms of synopsis there's not much I can say without saying too much. The story centres on Frank who lives with his Dad on an island outside the town of Port Neil Scotland which I shall henceforth imagine precisely as the village from League of Gentlemen. The plot is driven by Frank's brother who escapes from his asylum and starts making his way home on a journey littered with flaming canines and phone calls worthy of The Joker. While we wait for Steven to arrive we get to learn about Frank, his likes (dams, fratricide) dislikes (women, the sea) and hobbies (inventing wasp-killing death machines).
If it sounds horrible it's because it starts that way, but, in the interest of full disclosure I found the book improved as you went on. I'm not sure if this is due to a quantifiable drop in horrible or if I just acclimated. I do, however, recall at one point appreciating the poetry of a child murder via kite, so I rather suspect the latter. Nevertheless at three quarters in I was beginning to warm (ok thaw) towards The Wasp Factory. The writing is good, I admitted as much right at the start, evocative but straight-forward, even when jumping in time and, against all odds of subject matter, dryly humorous. The story, also was beginning to grip and I could no longer pretend to be reading quickly just to be done with it. In fact I was reading it on the train home when I inexorably got to the dead baby.
In my heart of hearts I knew it would come to Dead Baby (well, either Dead Baby or Creepy Sex Stuff) but it was still worse than I could have imagined. Mostly because I am not a descendant of Mengele. I skimmed as best I could, while making a noise like a tiny stream of air being let out of a balloon. It spent the next few hours festering in my soul and I'm afraid I can't encourage the rot by elaborating any further. Go read the GD book yourself. As far as I was concerned this was a shut case. The Dead Baby rule is one of my oldest and simplest; if the baby dies I do not like the book. (see Faust and Grapes of Wrath)
My glimmer of the hope of literary merit extinguished I once again put my head down and ploughed through the remaining pages. As it turns out, the blip on the cover was perfectly correct in labelling this a gothic novel. Gothic novels are always identifiable by their endings which involve a clash of secrets revealed, a great big fire and (invariably) a woman hidden in a secret room. You read a gothic novel for the ending, they are the pay-off, the best part, nay, reason for the preceding story. It was to my irritation that this held true for The Wasp Factory.
The ending was excellent. It has all the right ingredients but deconstructed postmodern-like. You (or at least I) didn't see it coming once it happened the whole book made sense while becoming entirely different. The Wasp Factory is, I must admit, a good book. That is why it gets 2 stars instead of 1. This might seem a bit of a low score from an admittedly worthy work of literature, but that's The Dead Baby rule for you. I simply cannot bring myself to like, recommend or revisit this novel. If it sounds like your cup of tea however, go for it. I won't judge you. That's God's job.