I blogged a short while ago about my joy at discovering the reprinting of Banks' "Player of Games" - possibly my favorite of his novels and certainly a great and impressive work of science fiction which ought to stand the test of time. Anyway, it led me to looking Banks up on wikipedia and discovering this, his only work of non-fiction. Banks is a Scotsman and his great love for his country and its whisky product is a constant in this book. It is a combination of travelogue, memoir, opportunity to rant at will, and an admittedly incomplete survey of single malt whiskeys.
I had a moment of doubt at the start, fearing something overly self-indulgent, but as I was drawn into Banks' narrative his wit and unadulterated pleasure in the good things in life drew me in. Of course it doesn't hurt that I like many of the things he likes - whisky, fast cars, science fiction, curry, a dramatic view of mountains - and the sense that it would be fun and rewarding to be a friend of his, but I think his enthusiasm would translate even to a reader with less knowledge of these things.
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