Then I'd suggest that you weren't actually bored, maybe you were reading it in a disinterested manner. But boredom to me, carries negative connotations that if allowed to continue for too long, is quite exhausting and frustrating. — Manuel

I was definitely bored, exhausted and frustrated. I abandoned it a couple of times but went back to it because I wanted to have read it, to know about Ballard’s flavour of avant-garde, to find out what he was doing.

But if it was shocking, how could it have been boring? I think because the shock kind of wears off in the first few chapters, after which it’s tedious repetition.

Thinking about the book afterwards—which I’m obviously still doing—wasn’t boring, but the experience of reading it really was, despite moments of interest and a certain appreciation of the writing. This is why I said at the time that it’s a conceptual piece more suited to analysis than to artistic appreciation.

200 plus goddam pages.

I should point out again that I’ve changed my view, and consider those things that seemed bad at the time as contributing to its effectiveness.

Then that is rare for me.

Actually, the first 240 pages of Gravity's Rainbow were close to being unreadable. One almost has no clue what is going on. But once it takes off, it's nuts.

The topic of boredom itself is hard to speak about in a profound manner. I think David Foster Wallace's last book, The Pale King, tried to speak about boredom - working in a tax office - while attempting not to be too boring. He never finished the book, due to his suicide.

But if you are dealing with dark themes, it may act as a kind of unconscious impulse to know what's going on. :chin:

Edit: na man, I can feel I'm not making any interesting comments. May try again later. :victory:

Actually, the first 240 pages of Gravity's Rainbow were close to being unreadable. One almost has no clue what is going on. But once it takes off, it's nuts. — Manuel

Damn, for some reason I thought it was the first 50, and after that plain sailing. Well, I’ll get around to it eventually, but it still feels too soon after completing the mammoth Against the Day.

The topic of boredom itself is hard to speak about in a profound manner. I think David Foster Wallace's last book, The Pale King, tried to speak about boredom - working in a tax office - while attempting not to be too boring. He never finished the book, due to his suicide. — Manuel

I think one can make boring experiences interesting in the telling, submitting them to the tools of the storyteller. Boredom can be fascinating and funny, in retrospect. Maybe another way that boredom isn’t boring is when the boredomee is not him/herself boring; like Proust, they may have a rich inner life that means that even when they’re bored they’re never boring, if we get inside their mind.

What I’ve been doing in this thread is discussing a boring experience in a quite interesting way. It’s actually pretty easy, and everyone does it, e.g., ranting wittily about how boring a movie was.

Edit: na man, I can feel I'm not making any interesting comments. May try again later — Manuel

Don’t worry, you’re not being boring. So far I haven’t really framed the debate properly to give it clarity (see my struggles to define enjoyment), so we’re all just scrabbling around in the dark.

what I’m talking about is the experience of a book or film etc. that would lead you to say, just after you’ve finished it, that it was a good experience. Many dark, harrowing and sad works would fit.

But Crash was not a good experience, and Salo was not a good experience for you. And yet later on, in my case Crash showed its power by making me think about stuff. — Jamal

I've been struggling to come up with a better example. Salo was not a good experience for me, but really all I learned was a lesson I knew and I still tell people "don't bother", so it's not exactly the same as what you mean either.

What makes this difficult to think through is I can almost always find something I enjoy in a work of art, but when I don't I also just move on. There can be a morbid curiosity that pushes me on, but that isn't the frustration you're describing. What you describe is a work of art that more or less invokes aesthetic analogues to pain which you suffer through, dislike, and then come to appreciate.

With literature I'm struggling, though I can think of some examples from philosophy that are a lot like that -- start out frustrating and boring but then, upon pushing through, they become something better -- at the very least, worthwhile to have read. (and it's a curious experience because it's hard to describe to someone why you'd subject yourself to pain for the good of appreciating it, when usually people like creative works not in this sense but because it appeals rather than because it frustrates)

What I’ve been doing in this thread is discussing a boring experience in a quite interesting way. It’s actually pretty easy, and everyone does it, e.g., ranting wittily about how boring a movie was. — Jamal

Yeah, and that's what's paradoxical. We usually don't tell boring experiences in the manner we felt them, few people would tell you: I got to work at 8, sat at the desk for 30 minutes, proceeds to detail those 30 minutes, then talks about having coffee, etc.

So, we say these things are boring in a manner that isn't boring, somewhat jumping around it. I'm not saying that we should be boring speaking about boredom as in using bland language and uninspired phrases. To then say nothing about what you are already saying the with the word you are trying to elucidate.

Boredom can be fascinating and funny, in retrospect. Maybe another way that boredom isn’t boring is when the boredomee is not him/herself boring; like Proust, they may have a rich inner life that means that even when they’re bored they’re never boring, if we get inside their mind. — Jamal

Yes, I think there is something to this. It's a type of experience which occurs privately, even though we can all be in boring meeting or a boring office or whatever. Yet what would be the point of even speaking about it if doing so would only produce boredom? Strange.

What makes this difficult to think through is I can almost always find something I enjoy in a work of art, but when I don't I also just move on. There can be a morbid curiosity that pushes me on, but that isn't the frustration you're describing. What you describe is a work of art that more or less invokes aesthetic analogues to pain which you suffer through, dislike, and then come to appreciate.

With literature I'm struggling, though I can think of some examples from philosophy that are a lot like that -- start out frustrating and boring but then, upon pushing through, they become something better -- at the very least, worthwhile to have read. (and it's a curious experience because it's hard to describe to someone why you'd subject yourself to pain for the good of appreciating it, when usually people like creative works not in this sense but because it appeals rather than because it frustrates) — Moliere

Yes, I think that’s a good analogy: it is a bit like the experience of reading profound but badly written or abstruse philosophy (which is not to say that Crash is badly written, since this is just an analogy).

And maybe it’s more than just an analogy. I mentioned before that Crash is some kind of conceptual fiction. In the same way as visual conceptual art is a way of doing philosophy (recalling Deleuze’s characterization of philosophy as the creation of concepts), conceptual fiction is a literary exploration of concepts free of the conventional demands of fiction. You can maybe just boil it down to: you don’t have to like it, it doesn’t have to be beautiful, and it doesn’t have to be executed with traditional skill—it’s just meant to make you think.

And that’s fair enough. Crash then is something along the lines of a bunch of bananas filled with piss, a can of the artist’s shit, or a sheep cut in half.

Another possibility is that I did actually enjoy it in some way, despite how tedious and boring I often found it. The whole premise of the book is crazy, but presented totally deadpan—I mean, that’s just inherently intriguing to me. So maybe I’ve been basically fascinated with it the whole time.

Which means the enjoyment angle is pretty much beside the point. I don’t know where that leaves this discussion :grin:

Yet what would be the point of even speaking about it if doing so would only produce boredom? Strange. — Manuel

That’s the thing: nobody is supposed to do this. It’s taken for granted that in telling a story about boredom, you shouldn’t be boring. But Crash is boring while telling a story that is not boring—there’s a lot of crazy shit happening.

Essential to the novel is that it is deadpan, clinical, amoral, and emotionless. One might say I’ve just mistaken this very intentional style for boringness.

I might read it myself, sound intriguing.

Which means the enjoyment angle is pretty much beside the point. I don’t know where that leaves this discussion :grin: — Jamal

:D -- my first thought was "well, I suppose I'd have to read the book at this point, but I'm not sure I should pile yet another project on"

But then today I thought of Videodrome. This is the Cronenberg flick I was thinking of when saying he crosses the lines at times. The movie sits in a very uncomfortable place for me because there are depictions of what I'd call snuff (except that we know we aren't watching real snuff) and so if you think about it at all you're like "this just is snuff" and it's disgusting. But then there are scenes through the movie which bend around the idea of snuff. It's a weird blend of phantasmagoria and this blunt reality of the possibility in human desire.

That's one I might revisit to check my intuitions, at least; it's artistic enough that I'd subject myself to it. There are things I enjoy about it. But then the subject matter and its expression make me uncomfortable and wonder why I'm watching this, of all the things in the world. But then, here I am talking about it. (Deadringers evokes similar feelings in me, but then I don't have a cognitive dislike of what's going on so it's not as bad, it's merely "oogie" to me but not a rational opposition... maybe this feeling is what you're talking about?)

Go for it.

Well I say go for it, but you already know I have mixed feelings about it.

Following is a representative sample to help you make the decision. It’s one of the more imaginative and lyrical passages, dispensing with the technical language in favour of a more fanciful register. I can easily imagine that some people would find it fascinating, while others would roll their eyes.

Two firemen cut the door from its hinges. Dropping it into the road, they peered down at me like the assistants of a gored bullfighter. Even their smallest movements seemed to be formalized, hands reaching towards me in a series of coded gestures. If one of them had unbuttoned his coarse serge trousers to reveal his genitalia, and pressed his penis into the bloody crotch of my armpit, even this bizarre act would have been acceptable in terms of the stylization of violence and rescue. I waited for someone to reassure me as I sat there, dressed in another man's blood while the urine of his young widow formed rainbows around my rescuers' feet. By this same nightmare logic the firemen racing towards the burning wrecks of crashed airliners might trace obscene or humorous slogans on the scalding concrete with their carbon dioxide sprays, executioners could dress their victims in grotesque costumes. In return, the victims would stylize the entrances to their deaths with ironic gestures, solemnly kissing their executioners' gun-butts, desecrating imaginary flags. Surgeons would cut themselves carelessly before making their first incisions, wives casually murmur the names of their lovers at the moment of their husbands' orgasms, the whore mouthing her customer's penis might without offence bite a small circle of tissue from the upper curvature of his glans. That same painful bite which I once received from a tired prostitute irritated by my hesitant erection reminds me of the stylized gestures of ambulance attendants and filling station personnel, each with their repertory of private movements.

But notice that my metaphor (which I disagreed with) was pizza vs. turnip soup. The latter is good for you, but hardly a gourmet meal. — Jamal

Right, so good for you but unenjoyable. Like plain broccoli.

Again I think it’s best to think of artworks in terms of parts. Maybe most of it is boring, but certain parts stand out or stick with you. Certain scenes in a movie, certain chapters in a book, certain melodies in music, whatever.

Perhaps that’s a way to square this circle.

But then today I thought of Videodrome. This is the Cronenberg flick I was thinking of when saying he crosses the lines at times. The movie sits in a very uncomfortable place for me because there are depictions of what I'd call snuff (except that we know we aren't watching real snuff) and so if you think about it at all you're like "this just is snuff" and it's disgusting. But then there are scenes through the movie which bend around the idea of snuff. It's a weird blend of phantasmagoria and this blunt reality of the possibility in human desire. — Moliere

I always say I like Cronenburg but I haven’t even seen Videodrome, by most accounts one of his most important and original films. What you say makes me want to see it. Not that I’m into snuff movies, you understand.

Deadringers evokes similar feelings in me, but then I don't have a cognitive dislike of what's going on so it's not as bad, it's merely "oogie" to me but not a rational opposition... maybe this feeling is what you're talking about? — Moliere

Not sure. I do like Dead Ringers though.

Reminds me of some portions of Dhalgren sans the violence. It's difficult for a book to disturb me.

Sounds fine - will add it to my reading list. Thanks for sharing.

Reminds me of some portions of Dhalgren sans the violence — Manuel

I expect to be reading that soon, since I’ve been getting into Delany recently.

Right, so good for you but unenjoyable. Like plain broccoli.

Again I think it’s best to think of artworks in terms of parts. Maybe most of it is boring, but certain parts stand out or stick with you. Certain scenes in a movie, certain chapters in a book, certain melodies in music, whatever.

Perhaps that’s a way to square this circle. — Mikie

I tend to think that if only a few bits of a book or film are great, while the rest of it isn’t great, then the thing has failed. On the other hand I agree that there will always be bits that stick with you more than other bits. I don’t think this gets to the problem with Crash, which is utterly consistent. Ballard doesn’t lose control for a second, except perhaps for the endless repetition of words like “stylized” and “junction”, which he may not have noticed himself doing.

I don’t think this gets to the problem with Crash, which is utterly consistent. — Jamal

Okay, but something still stands out. Is it really some generalized tone, or certain parts?

My issue is the boring description. I can see something unenjoyable staying with you, but not something boring.

Can something initially boring become interesting? I think so. I felt that way about 2001: A Space Odyssey. So maybe you’ve reassessed what you saw, or enough time had passed to make it interesting.

But maybe I’m losing the plot. You didn’t say “uninteresting,” after all.

David Cronenburg, who adapted it into a film, had a similar experience to me. He couldn’t finish it the first time he read it, and even after he’d finally gone back and read the whole thing, he didn’t like it. But it stayed with him, and he ultimately felt he had to do something about it (turn it into a film, in his case)—the question of like or dislike was irrelevant.

Something like that. But in my case at least, the dislike was not so much about the distasteful subject matter (and I seriously doubt that was the problem for Cronenburg tbh), but about the tedious pretentiousness, repetitiveness, and so on. Which makes it all the more puzzling that I’m now saying it’s an important work of literature. I think I’ve just changed my mind upon realising how powerful an effect it had on me.

I have question, apologies if already has been answered somewhere, but:

Do you think it needed to be unenjoyable to be the art it is, in your view?

I haven't read any of it; I only watched the film a long time ago which left very little impression on me - all I remember is a scene I found very dirty.

I do, however, own a collection of Ballard's short stories and find that he is a great short story writer, both very enjoyable as well as insightful and intelligent. So I wonder if you think Crash needs to be unenjoyable to be its art.

Just as an aside, I haven't really read any other of his works, with the exception of an attempt at Atrocity Exhibition which doesn't really seem like something you would read in a traditional way. Some of the imagery in that book has stayed with me though it hasn't really evoked enough of exploration and thought about the book for me to have an opinion on its merit.

Yes, it is quite amazingly tedious and repetitive. Yes, it is cold, joyless and repugnant. But it turns out these are the things that make it so memorable and, at least in retrospect, stimulating.

I think it follows that at least some excellent works of literature are not entertaining, delightful, or enjoyable. — Jamal

I looked up the synopsis. Not my kind of book. To me an excellent work is engaging (not necessarily entertaining, for others would find gossips entertaining) and the elements of insights and unexpected turns are artfully interwoven into the narrative. It's hard to describe, but I'll know it when I come across one.

To me, there wouldn't be a clash of antagonistic judgments if I find a piece of work engaging. There is a reason why a work is boring -- the author lacked that skill. One wouldn't intentionally write a boring piece.

Do you think it needed to be unenjoyable to be the art it is, in your view? — Apustimelogist

Good question. It needed to be unenjoyable (to me) to be what it was. What it was was unenjoyable in its bones. I don’t think it would have been the same work of fiction, with the same power to haunt me, had Ballard removed, for example, the endless description of the mergings and juxtapositions of mutilated bodies and broken car parts in purely aesthetic terms, repeating ad nauseum words like “stylized,” “formalized,” “junction,” and of course, “engine coolant.”

And I don’t think it would have made much difference to my enjoyment had he just done a bit of light revision to find some more varied vocabulary.

So I suppose the answer is yes. But that’s not to say that it was the merely the unenjoyableness itself that caused me to think it was a substantial work of art.

I do, however, own a collection of Ballard's short stories and find that he is a great short story writer, both very enjoyable as well as insightful and intelligent. So I wonder if you think Crash needs to be unenjoyable to be its art. — Apustimelogist

I recently read his collection The Terminal Beach and found it very enjoyable, but found the novel The Unlimited Dream Company rather irritating and not anywhere near as powerful as Crash. So yeah, in terms of reading enjoyment his short stories seem better.

I haven’t read The Atrocity Exhibition but probably will one day. The next one of his books for me will likely be Vermilion Sands, which I think is a short story collection.

To me an excellent work is engaging — L'éléphant

To me, there wouldn't be a clash of antagonistic judgments if I find a piece of work engaging — L'éléphant

Many people find the book engaging, and not only writers and critics. It’s quite popular and also highly regarded.

What you’re pointing out is that my opinion seems contradictory, and I agree: this is the conundrum.

To add to the reply I posted above…

What might be the case is that in his novels, he is free to let his imagination run wild. That sounds trite, but I think it’s an important fact about Ballard that he is not actually interested in the world except insofar as it shapes the unconscious; what he really likes to do is dredge up dreams and fantasies and develop them in surreality, with little concern to refer back to reality.

So in the novels, we get long descriptions of the surreal, presented—in what seems like a formality or concession—as if they were real. And just like the description of someone else’s dream can be boring, so can Ballard’s imaginings. It is not that the ideas are unengaging, rather that the exhaustive development and description of those ideas wears me down.

This isn’t a problem in the short stories, where the ideas have to take centre stage.

Crash is boring while telling a story that is not boring—there’s a lot of crazy shit happening. — Jamal

So crazy shit becomes boring when normalised. Maybe the world needed to be appraised of this. Like how porn in general becomes ever more explicit, and ever more extreme, as the breaking of each taboo becomes normalised. Eventually, megadeath, or the vaginal evisceration of a woman is just as dull as another wank. I remember the good old days when playing doctors and nurses was excitingly transgressive.

It's not an Earth shattering insight: when you're tired of Crash, you're tired of death. That's about how good it can possibly be, I think: a demonstration of the banality of evil.

I was very taken with 'Crash', which I read about thirty years ago. In a way I felt prepared for how inexorable it is. From earlier novels I remembered 'The wind from nowhere', which I'd read before 'Crash', when a cyclonic wind springs up, and blows, and blows, and when any other writer would maybe have it ease up, the wind and the terrors it unleashes are relentless. Perhaps it was that familiarity with how Ballard's mind seemed to work that makes me feel I wasn't as affected as you were by 'Crash': I knew he would take one giant premise, and be inexorable, relentless. 'High rise' is a later, to me failed, version of the same obsessive approach. Maybe I was ready to keep my distance.

In longer retrospect, 'Empire of the sun' was later an eye-opener to Ballard's imagination, a semi-autobiographical novel of a boy lost in the horrors of the Second World War in 'the far East', forced to confront terrible things before he was old enough to have developed a moral compass. It was also, speaking as someone who was trying to write fiction at the time, a remarkably bold thing for Ballard to do: to try and write a literary heartfelt realist novel, after a lifetime's reputation for doing something quite different.

Last thought: I felt as you did about 'Crash', about the Pinturas Negras, the 'Black Paintings' of Goya when I saw them in Madrid. They are images that still sometimes haunt me. I can see 'Saturn devouring his son' or 'Two old men eating soup' clearly now, without having to look them up, and my gorge rises. They are ghastly, and I'm deeply glad I saw them.

I was very taken with 'Crash', which I read about thirty years ago. In a way I felt prepared for how inexorable it is. From earlier novels I remembered 'The wind from nowhere', which I'd read before 'Crash', when a cyclonic wind springs up, and blows, and blows, and when any other writer would maybe have it ease up, the wind and the terrors it unleashes are relentless. Perhaps it was that familiarity with how Ballard's mind seemed to work that makes me feel I wasn't as affected as you were by 'Crash': I knew he would take one giant premise, and be inexorable, relentless. 'High rise' is a later, to me failed, version of the same obsessive approach. Maybe I was ready to keep my distance. — mcdoodle

That makes sense. Whereas I was dismayed by the relentless elaboration of a single idea, you were expecting it. It was the first of his novels I've read, after all.

In longer retrospect, 'Empire of the sun' was later an eye-opener to Ballard's imagination, a semi-autobiographical novel of a boy lost in the horrors of the Second World War in 'the far East', forced to confront terrible things before he was old enough to have developed a moral compass. — mcdoodle

I haven't read it. It hadn't occurred to me that it would be possible to trace the disturbing surrealism of his other work back to his real experiences, since I seem to remember him saying that life in the internment camp wasn't all that bad, as if he was trying to downplay the attempts at psychologizing him. But that might have been my misinterpretation.

Last thought: I felt as you did about 'Crash', about the Pinturas Negras, the 'Black Paintings' of Goya when I saw them in Madrid. They are images that still sometimes haunt me. I can see 'Saturn devouring his son' or 'Two old men eating soup' clearly now, without having to look them up, and my gorge rises. They are ghastly, and I'm deeply glad I saw them. — mcdoodle

Yes indeed. I saw them in Madrid as well, and felt something similar. It's not fun to spend a lot of time with those paintings. Aside from Saturn, the two that stay with me are the fight with clubs, which is brutal, and the dog.

Anyway, thanks. It's great to get some insight from someone familiar with Ballard's work.

Thanks for the reply, and some nice insights! To be honest I deeply respect the idea of someone who is uncompromising to put their stamp on a goal or vision they want to communicate and explore. Those kind of things really are what stick with me in stories or films. Even if a film or story isn't particularly exciting or enjoyable, if I perceive of it as projecting some kind of well-built underlying concept or vision, I often find myelf returning to it again and again, at least in thought, over more enjoyable alternatives. Sometimes though it takes time for those things to click. There have definitely been examples, in particular of films, where my first viewings I didn't find good at all, but once I can construct a picture I find interesting, whatever I found boring or uninteresting or disagreeable with it doesn't really matter anymore, or even accentuates the new way I am viewing it.

endless description of the mergings and juxtapositions of mutilated bodies and broken car parts in purely aesthetic terms, repeating ad nauseum words like “stylized,” “formalized,” “junction,” and of course, “engine coolant.” — Jamal

Reminds me of the Atrocity Exhibition. I think these two works are probably deeply related on a conceptual level. Might have to take a lok again.

The collection I have is just like his whole collection of short stories I believe so I don't know really know which stories group together in original books. I don't think they are ordered that way, if I am not mistaken.

The wikipedia synopsis of Unlimited Dream Company sounds quite interesting actually.

One other thing that lingers, now I'm remembering the impact of 'Crash' on me...The developed world really does fetishize the car in a most peculiar way, and this is very rarely remarked upon. People rationally agree that we've got to cut back on oil use, and yet buy bigger energy-guzzling cars, can only imagine a net zero future with loads of cars, vote for policies that allow cars more rights than pedestrian people. The person with the flag walking in front of a car to keep its speed down in 1900 would have saved thousands of lives: why do we laugh at such an image? The victory of car-drivers over pedestrians for rights over the city streets that gave rise to the term 'jaywalkers' 100 years ago wasn't an inevitable historical victory. The advertisements I see whenever I go to a cinema seem to be a sensual and sometimes quasi-erotic hymn to the car, and few other than Ballard have ever taken up this notion and run with it. I think future eras will look back on this phase of humanity's relationship with cars and wonder at how perverse we were. to so over-value the car, an asset the salaryman/working woman can enjoy and love and work dutifully for and become addicted to.

Thanks for the reply, and some nice insights! To be honest I deeply respect the idea of someone who is uncompromising to put their stamp on a goal or vision they want to communicate and explore. Those kind of things really are what stick with me in stories or films. Even if a film or story isn't particularly exciting or enjoyable, if I perceive of it as projecting some kind of well-built underlying concept or vision, I often find myelf returning to it again and again, at least in thought, over more enjoyable alternatives. Sometimes though it takes time for those things to click. There have definitely been examples, in particular of films, where my first viewings I didn't find good at all, but once I can construct a picture I find interesting, whatever I found boring or uninteresting or disagreeable with it doesn't really matter anymore, or even accentuates the new way I am viewing it. — Apustimelogist

I know what you mean, although I’m struggling to think of a film I disliked that I later regarded highly. Maybe Eyes Wide Shut, but I’m still at the dislike stage on that one :grin:

The wikipedia synopsis of Unlimited Dream Company sounds quite interesting actually. — Apustimelogist

Though I did find it a bit irritating, it’s interesting and fun at times. I can imagine myself reading it again. It’s unusual for Ballard in that it feels upbeat and life-affirming—in a psychotic and apocalyptic way.

One other thing that lingers, now I'm remembering the impact of 'Crash' on me...The developed world really does fetishize the car in a most peculiar way, and this is very rarely remarked upon. People rationally agree that we've got to cut back on oil use, and yet buy bigger energy-guzzling cars, can only imagine a net zero future with loads of cars, vote for policies that allow cars more rights than pedestrian people. The person with the flag walking in front of a car to keep its speed down in 1900 would have saved thousands of lives: why do we laugh at such an image? The victory of car-drivers over pedestrians for rights over the city streets that gave rise to the term 'jaywalkers' 100 years ago wasn't an inevitable historical victory. The advertisements I see whenever I go to a cinema seem to be a sensual and sometimes quasi-erotic hymn to the car, and few other than Ballard have ever taken up this notion and run with it. I think future eras will look back on this phase of humanity's relationship with cars and wonder at how perverse we were. to so over-value the car, an asset the salaryman/working woman can enjoy and love and work dutifully for and become addicted to. — mcdoodle

Totally agree. In fact, I think jaywalking was pretty much an invention of the car industry. They campaigned hard to entrench the idea that streets are primarily for cars. The land of the free, where you can get arrested for crossing the road.

I live in a city clogged with traffic. When I say to a local person that in the future people will look back on this period in disbelief, they look at me like I’m crazy.

So I’m definitely supportive of Ballard’s effort of outrageous defamiliarization, which shines a new light on the world we live in.

Reminds me of the Atrocity Exhibition. I think these two works are probably deeply related on a conceptual level. Might have to take a lok again. — Apustimelogist

Forgot to reply to this. Although I haven’t read it, I’ve heard it said that Crash is indeed a development of some of the ideas in that book.