The Wasp Factory, by Iain Banks

The Wasp Factory
Iain Banks

I like weird books, but…man. The Wasp Factory is about a teenage murderer in Scotland. The Times (London) is quoted on the back of the book as calling the book “Rubbish!” – it is better than rubbish, but I’m not calling it great literature. The story is certainly disturbing (at times a bit too much so), but what prevents this from being a better book is the lack of outstanding prose. The real draw here is the narrator’s description of his heinous deeds.

Frank Cauldhame is sixteen and has already killed three people. He has strange rituals and weird collections. Frank’s descriptions of his crazy daily life are very entertaining, if not highly disturbing. Because of this shock value, the story was interesting and I’d recommend it to others.

However, the ending is another one of those “here’s a really crazy ending you’ll never see coming,” and I couldn’t help but wish Banks had explained the narrator’s craziness in a more logical way. Intending to study criminal psychology before switching to literature, I have always loved criminal minds, and usually there is a seemingly simple, yet extremely twisted reason murderers are what they are. Mostly they become so due to abuse or genetics, but Banks explains his murderer’s insanity with something really unexpected.

Unfortunately, at the end, though, I wanted more depth. It seems as if Banks says, “Here is Frank’s crrrraaaaazzy secret. Isn’t it super crrraaaaazzzy? That’s why he’s a killer! And now that he’s aware of it, problem solved!”

Except in life, things are never that simple. That’s why, after reading The Wasp Factory, I felt that despite its disturbing material this book was mostly fluff. It is a light read (at a slim 184 pages) and the story is compelling enough to propel one through in one or two sittings. Is it worth it? Sure, if you like gross and kooky stuff.

In a nutshell: entertaining but ultimately superficial.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars.