Customer Reviews:
 The calmness and clarity of a disturbed mind... November 12, 2008
Few admit that, when they were children, they scorched ants with the sun's rays under a magnifying glass, or tossed insects into spider webs to be eaten alive. We own up to flushing bugs down the toilet, and smashing flies with newspapers, books, and fly swatters.
In The Wasp Factory, Frank Cauldhame takes things a bit further. He tortures wasps, shoots and bombs rabbits, and kills and displays other small animals as needed to power his Sacrifice Poles and the Wasp Factory.
He's also killed three children, including a younger brother. These deaths occurred when Frank was a child himself. Although he rationalizes later as a young adult (the story takes place when Frank is almost 17) that he knew what he was doing, it is clear he was malicious then, not necessarily evil.
I'm no expert in the autism spectrum, but I'd say he was a functional autistic. Frank just didn't see the world the way others did. And in his life, he experienced abandonment by his mother, an atypical father, gender identification issues, homeschooling, limited interaction with other children, little supervision, and, eventually, the madness of his older brother, Eric. Eric, specializing in putting maggots in the mouths of children and setting dogs on fire, has escaped from a prison hospital, and Frank and his father await his arrival.
Iain Banks didn't write a horror story, or a mystery, or a medical thriller. He wrote about a short chapter in Frank's life, a life most would never see since Frank was raised and lives on a nearshore island in Scotland. Bank's descriptions of Frank's activities, from the making of sand villages that he destroys with dam collapses, to Frank's drunkenness in town, and his collection of animal parts for his Sacrifice Poles, is described in a matter of fact style, not embellished, and certainly not glorified. Frank is very, very different. Iain Banks simply describes him and his immediate family. They are very strange people. Poor Frank. Or is it bad Frank? Ah, that's where Banks gets the reader... he makes you come to your own conclusion.
I read the 1990 paperback edition by Abacus, printed in England. The first three pages after the cover contain snippets from reviewers, some scathing and others more kind, from literary sources in Great Britain. If you get the opportunity, don't miss these reviews. Here's a sample:
" There is no denying the bizarre fertility of the author's imagination: his brilliant dialogue, his cruel humour [sic], his repellent inventiveness. The majority of the literate public, however, will be relieved that only reviewers are obliged to look at any of it." -- Irish Times
You gotta love a story that brings out that in the reviewers!
 Bloody Awful September 13, 2008
0 out of 1 found this review helpful
This is the one and only book out of the thousand or so that I have read that I have ever thrown in the trash. Literally thrown in the trash bin after reading. This is not genre horror, it's out-and-out sadism. And reading it makes you masochistic. It is just blood-curdlingly awful. I picked it up based on its supposed "controversy" and the blurbs on the back cover. It sounded intriguing and dark, and I do like a dark narrative every once in a while. But this was just sick, and it was sick just for the purpose of being sick. There was no greater message, there was no inner revelation. I don't require a moral to every story, but I'd like a bit more than just one sick image after another, with no rhyme or reason other than "Oh, this kid's a psychopath AND a sociopath." There's always more to the story than just blood and guts (and more blood and guts). Avoid at all costs.
 A quick and interesting read... August 25, 2008
I picked up this book based on the similarities I've heard it shares with American Psycho, which is one of my favorite novels. The reviewers were correct and I must say that this was quite the page-turner for me, albeit a short one. It is certainly not for the squeamish; it can be very graphic and cruel at times, made all the more disturbing with the matter-of-factly writing style. It was structured loosely and didn't have a particularly driving plot, but I found the insight into the main character's everyday life fascinating. I'm torn on the ending. As you may have heard, there is a twist, and although I found it exciting to read at the time, upon reflection it seems a little jarring when compared to the rest of the novel. I almost would have preferred a little more ambiguity at the end rather than have a conclusion spoon-fed to the reader. However, overall I think it is a very worthwhile read for anyone who enjoys transgressive fiction.
Wasp Factory: a Scottish House of Horror July 31, 2008
A disturbing story of growing up in a home where dysfunctional would have been seen as a major improvement. Surprise ending. Murder and sadism pass by constantly . . . gripping. Avoid if you like dogs . . . well timed . . . secure structure (in the face of chaotic minds). As times outstandingly comical.
 Well Written, but Shocking and Gruesome May 20, 2008
THE WASP FACTORY is the well written 1984 debut by Ian Banks, who has since written both literary and SF novels. This is pretty much a "shock" novel about a young boy with strong psychopathic tendencies. It caused quite a scandal when it was first released, and I can understand why: much of the novel is devoted to the main character torturing animals and murdering his young playmates. These scenes are initially quite capitvating (and darkly humorous) in a shocking sort of way, but become rather repetitive and over-the-top as the book progresses.
This novel does have a rather surprising twist, which the reader will either love or hate. It borders on schlock, but I liked it well enough to ultimately recommend the book.
Still, THE WASP FACTORY is nihilistic to an extreme, almost like a grade-B horror film. In the end, it really wasn't my cup of tea, although the quality of the prose was definitely first-rate. If you like dark humor, you will probably enjoy this one more than I did.
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