The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks

5 Stars

 

“The Wasp Factory is part of life and – even more so – part of death. Like life it is complicated, so all the components are there. The reason it can answer questions is because every question is a start looking for an end, and the Factory is about the End – death, no less. Keep your entrails and sticks and dice and books and birds and voices and pendants and all the rest of that crap; I have the Factory, and it’s about now and the future; not the past.”

Frank anxiously awaits an impending visit from his brother Eric – who has recently escaped from a mental hospital. He shares the story of his upbringing and keeps himself occupied in the interim with some very unconventional hobbies . . .

The Wasp Factory had been noted as one of my “to reads” for quite some time due to its status on the “Top 100 Books of the 20th Century” list. Several months ago it popped up again on a “Books You Should Read Because They Are Less Than 200 Pages” list. A few weeks ago this determined little book reared its head again on something like the “The Most Disturbing Books Ever Written” list. Well, when a book finds itself on a trifecta of “Books I Should Read” lists, it becomes harder to ignore. And when you have a seriously f*^#$d up friend that lives in your house hangs on your wall telling you to “DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IT” day in and day out, you eventually have no choice but to cave.

Hmmmmmmm. What can I say about The Wasp Factory????? Well, for starters, I can tell you the lists don’t lie. The book is short, it is memorable, and it is easily the most disturbing thing I’ve ever read. The major reveal at the end is definitely 100% foreseeable, but that doesn’t reduce the number of mindf^#%s you will experience while reading.

What can I say about Frank? He’s crazy. 100% unlikeable. He’s a twisted, psycho, woman-hating nutjob.

(probably)

and I could not stop reading the story being produced from his warped mind.

I went from

to

to

over the course of these 184 pages and am now weighing my options when it comes to holding on to what little is left of my sanity. Either I can sleep with the light on for the rest of my life, or I can find a big strong fella to hold me . . .

Recommended to: No one. Ever. I can’t handle the guilt.