Complicity

Here we have Complicity (1995) by Iain Banks, published by Abacus, ISBN: 9780349105710 — in Good condition, as sold by Crappy Old Books, which feels appropriate because this is the sort of novel that makes you question your morals and then offers you a chair.

Complicity is Banks in full, gleeful control: sharp, angry, funny, propulsive, and just a little bit feral. It’s a crime novel, a political rant, a media satire, and a moral trap disguised as a thriller — the kind of book that starts with momentum and then quietly nudges you into asking uncomfortable questions like: how do we decide who deserves what? and why do I keep turning the pages if this is making me feel slightly complicit?

At the centre is a journalist — which is Banks’s way of saying: here is someone paid to notice things, interpret them, and occasionally poke the powerful. And because it’s Banks, the powerful don’t take kindly to being poked. A series of brutal, theatrically targeted attacks begins to unfold, and the story alternates between two strands: the cynical, messy, immediate world of the journalist, and the cold, methodical voice of someone carrying out punishment with the kind of grim creativity that suggests they’ve been thinking about this for a long time.

It’s tense. It’s fast. It’s biting. It is also unmistakably 1990s in the best way — that post-Thatcher, media-saturated atmosphere where cynicism feels like the default setting but outrage is never far away. Banks writes with the swagger of someone who can do plot and ideas at the same time, and who enjoys the friction when they collide.

And yes, the title is doing a lot of work. Complicity isn’t subtle. It’s a warning label. You’re not just reading about crime and punishment — you’re being invited to look at the systems, the hypocrisies, the comfortable compromises, and the little ways people shrug and carry on. It’s a thriller that occasionally leans over and says, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Now think about why.”

Now, this particular copy: Abacus paperback, Good condition. That’s the ideal format for Banks — practical, portable, and robust enough to survive being read too quickly in one sitting. “Good” means it’s solid and presentable: likely some gentle handling wear, because books like this are rarely left untouched, but overall a tidy, dependable copy that’s ready to do its job.

Which is to entertain you thoroughly while also quietly interrogating your worldview.

Ideal for:

• Fans of smart thrillers with genuine bite

• Readers who like crime fiction that doubles as social commentary

• Iain Banks completists (and anyone who loved The Wasp Factory and wants the adult, angrier cousin)

• People who enjoy being gripped and then mildly judged by the book itself

If you want a novel that’s darkly funny, fiercely readable, and morally provocative — one that moves like a crime thriller but thinks like a political essay — Complicity is the one.

Good condition. Razor-sharp writing. Questionable innocence.
Crappy Old Books supplies the plot — the complicity is included at no extra charge.

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