The future (and past) of the Culture is no more except in those works already published as the great Scottish writer and Sci-Fi author Ian Banks finally succumbs to the cancer he has struggled against over the last few months. Terribly sad news and I’m sure that WorldbyStorm sums up the feelings of many on the loss of a unique voice not just for the world of fiction but for humanity in general. One could only hope to aspire to be one tenth of a writer that Banks was.
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.