The Algebraist by Iain M Banks

The Algebraist, published in 2004, was the first novel I'd read by Iain M Banks and as far as I know is one of only three of his sci-fi novels that aren't concerned with The Culture. It's a chunky (534 pages in the paperback edition I've got) far future novel which superficially reminded me in its tone and scattered settings of The Dreaming Void by Peter F Hamilton (but without the orgies) so might have an overlapping readership; of the two I preferred The Algebraist though like The Dreaming Void it suffered from an overwhelming number of minor characters who reappeared long after I'd forgotten whose side they were on or what mystic pronouncement they'd made at an earlier juncture.

The main character, Fassin Taak, is a sort of historian/librarian/information analyst whose work takes him among an eccentric race called the Dwellers, a vividly imagined and wonderfully described bunch who remain a hair's breadth from becoming extras in a Douglas Adams novel throughout the book. The power of information and the hypnotic pull of myth and conspiracy theory ensure that Fassin, one of the best in his field with an impressive reputation for knowledge-mining, gets drafted into a war he wants no part of. Because Fassin has spent so much time with Dwellers, he understands their behaviour better than some of his colleagues do, and the understanding (or lack of it) between different cultures is a recurring theme, whether it's between different races, or between academics and the military allegedly on the same side. The complexities of divided loyalties, the futility of war, and the way the weaknesses and capabilities of different species make them behave and interact are handled very well, with a pleasing internal consistency that seems to extend to the science.

The book is at times genuinely funny with some characters playing off each other brilliantly, but on the whole it's a tense and engaging novel that's mainly quite fast-paced, throwing small chunks of necessary back-story in here and there so as not to slow things down too much. Some aspects are timeless, such as the connections between three childhood friends as they grow older (albeit over centuries rather than decades), the rich kids spending their gap-year in a commune joining protests they barely understand, and the deluded optimism of the military (and the way they try to fool the civilian population into thinking it's all under control).

Brief warnings for those of a squeamish nature: Banks does overdo the swearing way beyond the necessity for adding colour to a character or realism to a situation; there is also a torture scene during the first few pages, which put my other half off the book before he got going – I persevered (and I'm glad I did) and discovered that it's the only scene of its kind in the book, a neat (if unpleasant) way of summing up the personality of a key character. All in all a good read, and I'll be on the lookout for Feersum Endjinn (another of his stand-alone novels) next.