Raw Nerve

I love single malt scotch so when I saw that an author I love, Iain Banks, was to write a non-fiction book about scotch I waited impatiently for it to arrive at the posti. Sadly, Raw Spirit: In Search of the Perfect Dram is possibly one of the most disappointing books I have ever awaited anxiously for publication.

You would think that a terrific author and scotch drinker approached by a publisher to do what any scotch drinker only dreams of, to drive around scotland drinking scotch and writing about it, would be a winning combination but you'd be wrong. He mentions rather frequently the envy of his friends as he writes which gets rather annoying after a while. I admit that I am jealous as I would have loved going along on the tours but what scotch drinker, his audience, wouldn't be?

The most aggravating and inappropriate part of the book is the frequent insertion of Banks' commentary on the US invasion of Iraq. I fully agree with his anger, his frustration and overall distaste for everything involved with the war in Iraq but this is not to say that I want to read about it while trying to enjoy a tour through Scotland. It gives one the idea that it was written very quickly without any editorial control and it shows. Had I been the editor, I would have ripped out nearly everything about the war since such things tend to either alienate people of other opinions or bore those of the same opinion when the subject of the book is about Scotch not war. Not to mention the pages and pages he devotes to his gas guzzling Rover without any sense of irony in bitching about a war for oil. Guess where the fuel to power your Rover comes from Iain.

Banks also has a very irritating tendancy like many bloggers to talk about something and then stop abruptly with a parenthetical remark to the reader that more will be coming (but more about that later). Either write about it or don't and let the reader get on with the story instead of propping up your lazy writing style with such evil stylistic crutches.

The reader is regaled with everyone in his family, all of his friends, boat, cars, and just about everything but an entertaining meander through scotland with detailed remarks about the distilleries and their history. There is some terrific content but it gets so lost between the story about his boat, grumping about the war and frequent asides that don't always add to the journey and leaves you feeling cheated that you had expected so much from such a promising book. A map of the many trips and locations of the distilleries would have been a nice touch as would have a few pictures of one of the most beautiful countries on the face of the planet.

I will say that Iain and I at least share the same snobbery in single malts by strongly preferring the Islay malts. While I really didn't enjoy the book I can still respect the man who had a very short time to cover a broad topic without a strong editor. Iain, if you're just like all the googling obsessed authors I know and come across this give yourself more space to organise your thoughts better and more time to research for such kinds of books as I wanted desperately to love this book. I'll be happy to buy you a few drams of scotch and rant about Bushistan since I even left the country partly due to my strong opinions but keep it out of your writing unless you do a book about politics.