Crash

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Brilliant even though lots of people say so - Rated
Relentlessly aggressive and pornographic in a psycho-geographical kind of way. Brilliant even though lots of people say so. Deeply unsettling and explicit even though countless commentators have initiated it into the bland halls of literary classic. Not misogynistic even though it is, in a way, all about misogynism and inadequate manhood. Its vivid portraits (after Francis Bacon?) of genitalia and instrument panels, blood and torn flesh and semen and scars, all of that, is brought forth by a detached and clinical eye. Which is (a good bit of) the point. I found it both more engrossing and repetitive than I expected. And occassionally moving. The refluxes of libidinal modern landscapes mirror the obsessions of Ballard and Vaughan, rendered universal by their compulsions to repeat (even if some of the rest of us aren't particularly keen on sex and death in the twisted wrecks of four-lane motorways and airport bypasses). As Ani Difranco says: "my c*nt is a wound that won't heal" - that's what Crash is like. Despite (or because of) this unforgiving repetition, it seems to have more essence of Ballard than anything else that I've read of his. Yes, its original. Yes, its revolting. Yes, it offends the right kind of people. But this is a deeply affecting and memoral book for more reasons than that.

Morbid melding of man and machine - Rated
The concerns of this novel are even more immediate today than they were when it was written some thirty years ago. Traffic volumes relentlessly increase and the shaping of the human psyche by technology grows deeper with every passing year. This is the theme of 'Crash'and one which pervades much science-fiction and speculative writing. The core of this novel is about the relationship between humanity and technology - the melding of man and machine.

The car is a potent symbol of this marriage and a violent crash the ultimate wedding. Just stand on any motorway footbridge during the evening rush-hour and Ballard's evocative prose is brought to mind. Just watch the streams of high-speed traffic flowing endlessly beneath the setting sun; each car containing within itself the potential for any number of complex collisions. The sexual urge is somehow translated into the urge to drive at speed and with the obsession with the forms of the car in all its curvatures. Indeed the many graphic sexual references in the book are clinical, stylised and highlighted in relation to an all-pervasive technology.

The backdrop of the novel is the alienating no-man's land on the sprawling outskirts of a metropolis (London). Most of the action takes place on motorway intersections, slip-roads, fly-overs, car-parks and airport terminals. In this world man has most definitely sold his soul with little return.

The writing style here is an acquired taste. Although Ballard's ideas are vivid and original the descriptive phraseology can be repetitive in structure. If you like novels with pace and well-defined plot then this book would be anathema to you. 'Crash' is almost a montage of highly descriptive vignettes played over the Outer-London wasteland: the connecting thread being the obsessional antics of Vaughan as seen from the viewpoint of Ballard (himself a character in the first person). In Vaughan we follow the development of the man/technology marriage taken to its extreme conclusion.

The sexual possibilities inherent in technology are quite fascinatingly described in these pages. The writer's obsession with the various components of a car's structure in relation to the human body and its functions become almost comically tiresome as the book progresses - but this very repetitiveness itself, like passing lights on a motorway, emphasises the soullessness and alienation of auto-technology. The scene in the automatic car-wash is particularly memorable and was picked up on to brilliant effect by Cronenberg in his 1996 screen version of the novel.

'Crash'is a novel of complex ideas and if the writer is unfamiliar to you, I think his earlier works such as 'The Drought' and 'The Drowned World' make an easier introduction. However 'Crash' can provide an enjoyable read in spite of its idiosyncratic style, disturbing content and pessimistic tone. One thing is for sure- after reading 'Crash'your experience of a high-speed motorway journey will never be quite the same again.

A great modern classic - Rated
If you ever hear someone moan that "There are no classics anymore." or ask "Are there any great British writers still alive?" point them to Ballard and arguably his masterpiece, Crash.

I say arguably, because the catalogue of J G Ballard is littered with classics. Empire of the Sun, Crystal World, Attrocity Exhibition and more, far more.

This is not a book for everyone. Ballard is not to all tastes, at least not at first. If you try Crash and feel alienated from it or find that it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, try his short stories and work your way back to Crash once you've adjusted to him & acquired a taste for his style, his subject matter and his characters.

But don't be put off by anyone who claims to find Crash 'turgid' or worse. To not read Crash is really rather shameful.

A Work Of Genius - Rated
Ballard's dislike of modern life and in particular man's obsession with the motor car and the concrete monstrosities it runs on are central to this brilliant novel. Only Ballard has the imagination and insight into 20th/21st century life to write such a book. Only Ballard has the nerve and the literary audacity to show us what we have become. Ballard takes a premise and fashions it into a novel of such thought-provoking brilliance that anyone who awards this less than 5 stars has missed the point completely.

A Postmodern Classic - Rated
To say that J.G Ballard's classic postmodern novel is merely out for the 'shock value' it can extract from its reader is completely missing the point.

This isn't an erotic novel, the sexual content is handled in such a way to make it clinical, almost replulsive to the reader (sexual organs are described with as much enthusiasm as a steering wheel column). Sex becomes just another mechanical act, like driving a car, the repetition only serves to highlight that fact. The endless cycle and the numbing realisation that as a postmodern audience we become deadened to the horrors that surround us that are brought into our homes by the media is also central to understanding this text.

Ballard's novel brings to light the desensitised nature of human beings who watch mass murders on the nightly news with as much affect as the advertisement for soap powder which follows.

Ballard's novel is an implossion of fantasy and reality. Bringing together the society that thrives on spectacle to the point that watching a car crash has become prime time viewing. The death of affect - the fulfilment of human passions onto material technologies rather than people, resulting in a displacement of passion and an inability to connect is also central to this text.

After this read The Passion of New Eve by Angela Carter.