I've recently finished reading Lanark: A Life in Four Books by Alasdair Gray. I'm not sure I'm up to writing a full blown review of it - an idea I'm finding more than a little daunting - but thought I'd say a few words here. I embarked upon reading it largely because I had read that it was a major influence on Iain Banks, he apparently said that it opened his eyes to the possibilities of what can be done with the novel, and I can certainly see how it would have influenced his literary experimentalism and playfulness. So in that it was very interesting, but beyond that I confess that, whilst I could see its literary cleverness, brilliance even, I really did not enjoy it. Bits of it, yes, but the entirety no. Started in 1954 when Gray was a student it was finally published in 1981 and is described by Gray himself at the end of the book as being fairly autobiographical in nature, particularly the middle two realist books. And this is where it gets weird; books one and two are a realist Bildungsroman of the young life (and death) of a Glaswegian artist named Thaw (Gray) and books three and four are a weirdly surreal account of Thaw's afterlife as Lanark in a mirror Glasgow called Unthank, but these four 'books' are read in the order 3, 1, 2, 4 so that the realist books are enclosed by the surreal (also the prologue and epilogue pop up in the middle rather than the beginning and end - oh and the epilogue is a conversation between Lanark and the author which gets particularly weird as the authors explains the he hasn't yet written some of the sections of the story that Lanark has already experienced!). The surreal books three and four felt to me like a blend of Gormenghast and the Beatles film The Yellow Submarine. I did enjoy parts and the writing is without doubt quite outstanding but my enjoyment was spoilt (quite possibly intentionally) by the, frankly, unpleasant main character of Thaw/Lanark; Thaw more so than Lanark. In the end I'm glad I've read it but it was a long and sometimes disagreeable slog.
I've also failed to finish Titanborn by Rhett C Bruno. I had high hopes Bruno would turn out to be a new author to me that I could get into. This was largely due to a few reviewers on Goodreads who I had come to think shared my tastes, but I guess I have made the mistake of assuming that, just because these authors seem to like the same books I like, they would also dislike the books I dislike. Clearly this is not the case. Although Titanborn was only published in 2018 it shares all the worst faults of the pulp SF of earlier years: complete disregard for scientific realism, macho bullsh** and totally implausible world building. The list of flaws is too long to go into but after less than a hundred pages of the total two hundred and thirty I just can't go on any further. In fairness many of the issues I have with this book I also had with the first Expanse book Leviathan and which stopped me from continuing with that series, so I guess my thoughts are maybe not a good measure for this type of book.