This story about Iain Banks is a few weeks old now, but I kept it back to send out today for a particular reason.
This story struck a nerve with me. Not because I’ve never read any of Iain Banks’ (or Iain M Banks’) novels, but more because why I haven’t.
Back in 2008 I had a friend who constantly harassed me to read at least one of Banks’ books. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time – the reason for that was that I’d recently lost my mum to cancer and my father was in the late stages of terminal cancer himself.
Somehow, my friend managed to get one of the books to me and I kept it in my backpack just in case. As is often the case with this disease, I ended up spending the last few nights with my father in a hospice and, on the odd occasion it was quiet, I would take out the book from my backpack and try to read it but never got passed the first couple of pages.
My father passed away on 25th April 2008 (it’s his fifth anniversary today) and I still have that book, although I’ve never been able to pick it up and read it.
To now read that Iain is suffering from the same disease that took my mum and dad is heartbreaking.
Iain, I never knew you, nor read any of your books – but I wish you all the best in the time that you, and your new wife, have left. Hopefully, in the future, I find the strength to open your book and take those first steps into the worlds you’ve created that your readers obviously love.