Stonemouth

Title: Stonemouth
Author: Iain Banks
Published: 2012 by Little, Brown
Genre: Humorous drama
Pages: 434




After five years in exile, Stewart Gilmour is back in his hometown Stonemouth, to attend the funeral of old Joe Murston. The rest of the gangstery Murston family kind of wants him dead, or at least very inconvenienced, so he has to tread lightly as he visits old friends and family, and reminisces on his childhood and youth. Well, he's only 25, so when I say youth... the reason for Stewart's self-exile comes out little by little as we get to peek in on his memories. There are a few mysteries, a lost love, and a bunch of characters as odd as Mr. Banks can make them.

Bought this one used from Cardiff last summer, and picked it up two weeks ago after staring at the bookshelf for a while and deciding that I have to start making some kind of a dent in the Unread-shelf. Stonemouth was intriguing from the start: well worth being dragged around in a suitcase.




   I stand and wait for him to finish, but he's tsking and tutting and shaking his head and keeps standing up and looking like he's about to take his shot but then changing his mind and squatting down again, closing one eye and sighing.
   I just have this feeling that he's waiting for me to try to take my shot so that he can claim I've got in his way or jostled his elbow or something, so I decide waiting patiently is the wisest course. After about five minutes of this shite I sigh, and pull my phone out to check the time.
   'Aye? What?' the wee guy says suddenly, all edge and aggression. He's staring at me.
   I look at him. 'Excuse me?' I say, with a sort of formal smile. Oh, shit; I already don't like the way this is going. 
   'Whit the fuck?' the wee guy says shrilly, as though when I said 'Excuse me?' he somehow heard, 'Fuck your junky whore of a mother with a rusty fire extinguisher, you clit-nosed cuntface.'