Geoff writes:

First we have Alec reporting on the Top 20 geek novels from blogs.guardian.co.uk. I hope the fact that Alec hasn’t read Consider Phlebas doesn’t mean that he’s ignorant of Iain M. Banks’ work.

…and I responded at that site, but perhaps it’s worth reposting here:

Yes, I am utterly ignorant of Iain M Banks but that’s largely because I’ve always preferred Iain Banks as an author, notably The Wasp Factory, Espedair Street, Walking on Glass and The Crow Road – the latter being possibly the first novel I ever read with a plausible, empathisable, contemporary and realistic “geek” in it, using plausible technology rather than someone’s fevered imaginings – and recently I borrowed “Raw Spirit”, his personal homage to the road trip themed around malts. In some ways I am disinclined to attack the “Culture” books as I am many other authors nowadays, since I’ve developed a vague feeling of not-wanting-any-more-universes-inside-my-head.

There’s already Middle-Earth, Hitch-Hikers, Discworld, Ringworld and a selection of other minor ones in there, not to mention the half-dozen pseudoreal zones in which I execute bits of my personality (Biker/Petrolhead, Astronomer, Geek, Romantic, Chef, Politician, and “The Practical Man”) – so I’ve arrived at a state where I don’t want to have to engage the construct of an author’s created universe in order to understand a story.

I presume it’s a phase, I presume it will pass, it’s probably not fair (or at least open-minded) – but at the moment I am making up for having buried my head in Kernighan, Bach, Tanenbaum and McKusick for fun, aged 17 thru 26 inclusive. This involves memorising the Screwfix catalogue, learning how to strip an engine, and coming to oneness with the various compositions of concrete.

I also presume I’m not the only person to face this challenge?