Why Ian M. Banks Reigns Supreme in ‘Player of the Game’ – Our In-Depth Verdict

The Book Club explores The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks.

Colin McPherson/Corbis via Getty Images

The New Scientist Book Club has transitioned from Grace Chan’s dystopian near-future in Every Version of You to the utopian distant future depicted by Iain M. Banks in The Player of Games. This December’s book garnered positive feedback from our members.

Set within a vast galactic civilization, The Player of Games follows Gurgeh, a master gamer thrust into a conflict against the barbaric Azad Empire. This intricate game is so pivotal in Azad culture that the victor ascends to emperor. Though Gurgeh is a novice, can he rise to the challenge? What secrets lie between the Culture and Azad? This overview encapsulates member insights on the book, complete with spoilers. Proceed only if you’ve finished!

Remarkably, this wasn’t the first reading for many of us. Thirty-six percent of the group, including myself, acknowledged previous familiarity with this Banks classic. Many expressed nostalgia for Banks, lamenting the absence of new works from this literary giant. “I miss Ian. I haven’t yet delved into his final book, The Quarry. After this, there will be nothing new to experience!” lamented Paul Oldroyd in our Facebook group. “Similarly, I’m yet to complete The Hydrogen Sonata!” chimed in Emma Weisblatt.

While I consider myself knowledgeable about Banks’ works, The Player of Games felt refreshed in my memory. I found it immensely engaging; Banks’ subtle brilliance is captivating. For instance, I was intrigued by the Stigrian counting creature, which counts everything it encounters—starting with people, then transitioning to furniture.

There’s much to contemplate, from the essence of existence in a utopia devoid of challenges to the meaning of humanity in a realm governed by a vast intellect. The plot itself is thrilling! When Gurgeh faced temptation to cheat in a game against Mawhirin-Skel, I could hardly contain myself. The Azad games entirely captivated me. As a post-Christmas indulgence, I plan to reread more of Iain M. Banks’ works.

An exceptional aspect of the book was Banks’ portrayal of the game Gurgeh plays. Crafting a futuristic game and rendering it believable is no small feat. Banks excels here, providing enough detail about Azad to enhance realism without overwhelming the reader. Members also found this intriguing; Elaine Lee remarked, “The game of Azad is an expression of empire and serves as a critique of Cold War politics.”

Judith Lazell was less convinced, stating, “I viewed it simply at face value.” Nile Leighton aptly noted the deeper implications within the gameplay. “Critically, it’s a game where Gurgeh acts as a pawn under the narrator’s influence, lacking clear rules and enduring for decades, with unknowable outcomes.” Indeed!

As a footnote, during a chat with Banks’ friend and fellow sci-fi author Ken MacLeod, I learned he suggested the final title of the book. Banks initially titled it Game Player, which I believe is a more fitting title!

Now, let’s discuss the character of Gurgeh. “Gurgeh might not be likable without his cultural background. He is somewhat unsettling and self-absorbed. I hope he learns from his journey,” stated Matthew Campbell via email. I’m unsure if we’re meant to root for him—he’s an arrogant con artist—but my support grew as the story unfolded.

In contrast, Steve Swann found himself disengaged with the narrative. He “set the book aside” stating, “Intelligent individuals, particularly those who assume they are, can make serious blunders.” Steve felt Gurgeh’s arrogance and desires influenced his decision-making. What’s that saying? He had to make his bed and lie in it—no sympathy there!

Niall has a different view on Gurgeh’s choices. He perceives Gurgeh as manipulated by external forces, with Maurin-Skel tampering with his mind. “I interpret Gurgeh’s decisions as not entirely his own but a result of manipulation,” Niall explained. “To me, Gurgeh is not the master player; he is the one being played.” While I agree, I saw Gurgeh’s choice to cheat as a distinctly human reaction to seduction, sparking fascinating discussion.

Paul Jonas remarked that Gurgeh, as a character, lacked the compelling nature of the mercenaries in Consider Phlebas or Use of Weapons. “It’s part of the protagonist’s reluctance to embrace adventure,” he noted—after all, why would Gurgeh forsake comfort without motivation?

Our science fiction columnist, Emily H. Wilson, pointed out that The Player of Games serves as an excellent introduction to Iain M. Banks’ universe. The narrative reveals the Culture through subtle details about drones, spacecraft, and their orbits.

We gradually discover the workings of a post-scarcity society, where almost anything is achievable. I especially appreciated the exchange between Gurgeh and Azad elder Hamin about crime and societal norms. Hamin struggles to comprehend the lack of crime in the Culture, even as slap drones are designed for enforcement. “We will ensure you don’t repeat it,” Gurgeh assures. “Is that all? What more can you ask?” Hamin inquires. “Simply social death—no invitations to parties,” Gurgeh replies.

Paul Jonas was already familiar with the Culture’s utopian elements when he started The Player of Games. “[The book] subtly builds this world through Gurgeh’s ennui and lack of challenges. Anyone can secure a home atop a rainy mountain; the drones possess distinct personalities.” He adds, “The narrative also reintroduces Contact, an institutional service managing interspecies engagements, military affairs, and intelligence—an inherently humanistic approach to utopia.” Adam Roberts highlights that writing utopias becomes increasingly complex when the characters experience ennui, as Gurgeh does.

Some members reflected on the implications of living in such a utopia. “Gurgeh is an individual navigating an individualistic utopia dominated by minds, drones, and sentient ships,” Paul theorizes. “He seems disconnected from collaboration with fellow humans.”

Niall noted that while Gurgeh may come off as “unpleasant,” he embodies the consequences of the anarchist society he inhabits and that Banks delves into the nuances of individualistic and collectivist perspectives. “Gurgeh exemplifies individualism. I critique it, as it often excuses behavior akin to Gurgeh’s,” Niall states. It’s worth noting that while this book predates Octavia Butler’s emphasis on change within utopias, the conversation has existed since H.G. Wells.

Matthew Campbell identified Azad’s cultural ambassador, Shokhobohaum Za, as the only character “truly alive and reveling in life.” “In contrast, Gurgeh and the Azadians remain trapped within their isolated worlds,” he reflects. The rivalry between Emperor Nicosar and Gurgeh encapsulates contemporary political dilemmas—one figure exuding passion for his empire but constrained by a narrow worldview, while the other lacks belief and conviction, failing to defend his utopia.

The insights on culture and the ethos of The Player of Games are boundless. To further engage in this discussion, feel free to join us on Facebook.

Meanwhile, we look forward to our first reading of 2026. Our January selection, Anniebot by Sierra Greer, has already won the 2025 Arthur C. Clarke Science Fiction Award. Narrated from the perspective of a sex robot, Annie, who is kept by a not-so-nice man, this novel ventures into darker territories. Andrew Butler, chair of the Clarke Prize jury, described it as a “tightly focused first-person account of a robot designed to be the perfect companion struggling for independence.” You can check out an excerpt here. Additionally, Sierra Greer’s article detailing the experience of writing from a sex robot’s viewpoint is available here. Not to mention, Emily H. Wilson praised it in her review—she found it captivating!

Topics:

Source: www.newscientist.com

Kaliane Bradley’s Verdict on Time of Timeistry for the New Scientist Book Club: Thumbs Up!

Kaliane Bradley’s The Ministry of Time awarded mixed reviews at the New Scientist Book Club

One of the wonderful elements of science fiction is its vastness, a notion emphasized by our two recent readings. The New Scientist Book Club has transitioned from Larry Niven’s classic hard sci-fi piece, Ring World, to Kalian Bradley’s Time Saving, which we’ll delve into this June. The former rigorously engages with scientific principles, while the latter takes a more relaxed approach.

The narrative revolves around an obscure civil servant tasked with assisting historical figures—specifically, the Victorian explorer Commander Graham Gore from 1847. Time Saving intertwines elements of thrillers, romance, and touches of climate fiction, making it an engaging read. Although I adored it, the conclusion left something to be desired, which I’ll elaborate on later. For now, let’s explore the sci-fi elements of the book.

In Bradley’s interpretation, time travel serves as a plot device; it facilitates the transition of characters from the past to contemporary settings. As she notes, “Once you start contemplating the physics of time travel, you’ve entered a tricky realm.” I don’t necessarily view her reluctance to clarify time travel as a weakness—after all, even our greatest physicists have yet to fully understand it, a sentiment shared by many.

“I accepted time travel as a given and shaped the primary plot around it. In the end, it’s approached similarly to numerous other sci-fi narratives.” Facebook Group. “Ultimately, this emphasis on plot and character development made me feel that the novel transcended mere science fiction, transforming into a story set against a sci-fi backdrop.”

Pauline Moncrief, who previously engaged with Time Saving, praised Bradley’s portrayal of time travel as “spot-on” due to its exploration of the paradoxes surrounding it—questions like, “What happens if you travel back and eliminate your grandfather?” This intriguing concern worked well. “Thus, I appreciated the author’s decision to smoothly bypass the technical hurdles typically associated with time travel,” she remarked.

Kristen Millard Shore expressed similar sentiments: “I appreciated the author’s casual handling of time travel—’Let’s not overthink this’ was refreshing.” However, Gosia Furmanik felt differently. While she enjoyed the prose’s creativity and vividness, she found the main plot confusing and felt it lacked urgency until the very end. For someone looking for a focused sci-fi exploration, she wondered if the romance and themes of immigration and identity overshadowed the genre elements.

Gosia might have a point, but I found the romance to be a highlight of the novel, even developing an affection for Commander Gore (which Bradley seemed to share—check out my interview with her for more on this historical crush). As a fan of romantic narratives, I found this aspect delightful. Others echoed my feelings, too.

“I usually don’t gravitate towards romance in books, but I found it well-executed here. Nevertheless, I felt the story encompassed more than just romance; it was enriching overall.”

Phil Gurski, however, took a different stance: “While I enjoyed the concept, it leaned more toward romance than sci-fi,” he noted. “The lengthy sex scene felt unnecessary.” Despite this divergence of opinions, I cherished many aspects of Time Saving, particularly Bradley’s subtle yet brilliant humor. The contrast of a character from the 19th century grappling with modernity—whether it’s Spotify or dishwashers—provided a delightful layer to the storytelling.

“I found myself laughing aloud numerous times,” Kristen concurred. “Especially during the conversations among the female characters about chicken wallets!” The chicken wallet scene was memorable and the interactions among the characters stood out. I found myself smitten, much like Margaret Kemble and Graham Gore did in 1665.

Gosia nodded in agreement regarding the humor: “Initial moments were quite amusing, like the EastEnders reference, but at times, that tone was overshadowed, leading to inconsistencies that detracted from my enjoyment.”

Now, let’s discuss the ending. Provision. Spoiler alert for those who haven’t finished yet! The revelation that Adela was a future version of our narrator caught me off guard, adding an engaging twist that prompted me to revisit earlier elements of the story with this new perspective. I believed these elements held up, though the rapid pace towards the conclusion felt a bit jumbled, especially since I was invested in the romance. I recognize the inherent “time travel” aspect of the story, but I still hoped for more closure.

David Jones echoed my feelings: “I finished and felt disappointed. I loved the characters and believed they deserved a more satisfying ending.” Alan pondered, “Does the author’s craftsmanship with engaging, thoughtful narratives get compromised by editorial constraints?” He felt the conclusion appeared forced and disconnected from the author’s original vision.

“By the 80% mark, I was questioning, ‘Where is this going?’ The narrative seemed too precious until the end, without sufficient payoff.”

Phil shared his thoughts in a Facebook group, stating that the next session’s readings should return to genuine science (fiction), with Lake of Darkness—a paper edition exploring black holes and their mysterious signals—on the horizon. Adam has penned brilliantly insightful essays for our readers, while Emily H. Wilson, a reviewer for New Scientist, expressed her fondness for Lake of Darkness upon its hardcover release, calling it “smart, experimental, and full of imaginative ideas,” eagerly anticipating the journey into an advanced future.

Topics:

  • science fiction/
  • New Scientist Book Club

Source: www.newscientist.com