great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

This torrid, powerful 1962 novel--the 17th of Millennium's very strong SF Masterworks classic reprints--was a major turning point in J.G. Ballard's career. In this future our old world has been gradually drowned as global warming melts the ice-caps and primordial jungles and swamps have returned to tropical London, recreating the ancient ecology of the Triassic age. According to the logic of Ballardian "inner space", these Turkish-bath surroundings evoke the psychological suction of the deep past, calling the human "hindbrain" back to the enfolding warmth of the womb. The text is rich with dreamy phrases like "the fata morgana of the terminal lagoon" and "the brighter day of the interior, archaeopsychic sun". As various members of an expedition to London busy themselves with more or less futile schemes like draining Leicester Square in hope of loot, the passive central character Kerans moves in his own "neuronic odyssey" to a strange acceptance of and assimilation by this lushly transformed world, vanishing into a final epiphany of heat and light. There is little narrative drive or sense of story (fans of rip-roaring, action-adventure SF tend not to get on with Ballard). The Drowned World is a potent, sensual mood-piece--static, jewelled and unforgettable. --David Langford

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

Thought provoking, 01 Jul 2008
I much preferred this to The Drought - the settings turn out to be more familiar and the characters seemed somewhat easier to relate to (though likeable would be going too far). The central idea of regression to thought patterns displayed millions of years ago by earlier life forms is a fascinating and quite sobering one.

Drowned world - the illustrated novel., 13 Mar 2008
In a series of 36 stunningly beautiful watercolours - some double spreads - Dick French (born 1946) manages to perfectly evoke the claustrophobic hothouse atmosphere of Ballard's novel.

The flyleaf to this larger than A4 sized edition reads:
'The sun has gone mad and stripped the earth of its ionosphere. For decades blasting radiation has poured upon earth, melting the polar caps and turning permafrost into streams, rivers, oceans. Huge deltas have been built, lakes formed, seas have risen. The continents have been entirely altered. Jungles have crept and then rushed from the equator to Greenland. Siberia is a tropical nightmare. Mosquitoes the size of dragonflies carry horrendous new malarias. Mammals are on their way out and iguanas have grown as large as horses. Ferns and clubmosses smother those parts of ancient cities - New York, Berlin, Moscow, Peking- that are not drowned and offering steaming shelter to gigantic alligators and other saurians. As for humanity, well, there are only 5 million men and women left, living in the sub-tropical confinement of the Arctic and Antarctic circles.
It is as if history were rolled backward, as if the Triassic Age were here again. Man's science is useless against the solar furnace. And man's mind? Is that also slipping backward, far backward, to before the apes, to before the mammals, to the Triassic terror itself.
This novel- written in lucid, convincing, matter-of-fact prose - is both fierce and unsensational. It has a compelling authority which grips the reader at once and keeps him in its power long after the book is read. This is an unforgettable work.'


I'm not quite sure what Ballard is doing, but it's a lot of fun trying to figure it out, 29 Jan 2008
Plenty of superlatives have been thrown around to describe Ballard. In order to avoid that, my opening gambit will be a quote by Christopher Priest. "I'm not quite sure what Ballard is doing, but it's a lot of fun trying to figure it out."

If you want a summary of the plot read the other reviews, my intention here is just to note the pleasure and excitement of reading this book. In the novel, Ballard's obvious intention is to explore what we can do with the genre normally referred to as sci-fi. In a traditionally British way he decides not to make everything as big as possible but instead reduces the elements of the catastrophe to the psychology at play.

As you would expect from any Ballard book there's a twisted longing to become the centre of the catastrophe and an uncomfortable thrill in enjoying the world going to hell.

The Chapter 'A NEW PSCHOLOGY' is almost a manifesto in itself with regards to how Ballard would go on to create a whole new take on what H.G. Wells called scientific romance. The novel covers biological manipulation, time travel, ecological disaster and all in ways so original that it makes the mind whirl. It's dream like in so many ways, but most interestingly in that 'it seemed logical in the dream but now...' feeling so common when trying to relate your inner mental journeys to someone else.

This is the first book by Ballard that I have read an actually got the whole 'Ballard is a genius' thing. The prose is controlled and effective and after I had finished i went back to re-read some chapters again, just for the hell of it.

Strongly recommended.


Planet Sauna, 20 Apr 2007
The world is heating up as a result of solar instability. Ice caps have melted and oceans have risen, flooding low-lying areas. Once temperate zones remaining above sea level have become areas of lush, tropical jungle. Surviving populations have had to migrate to the cooler, polar regions. A party of soldier and scientist representatives of these exiled people, have travelled down from the north to study the new flora and fauna that is mutating and evolving rapidly back towards ancient Triassic forms. Some members of the party start to have disturbing dreams of belonging to a hotter, wetter climate and feel drawn in the direction of the equator by some sort of ancestral memory of living in a primeval swamp. The bloated sun and steaming jungle start to feel like a fond memory of the womb to those who are most susceptible and the hypnotic pull of it dominates even their waking hours.

Some reviewers have complained that this is not proper science fiction, not hard science fiction, not fast-paced, not plot-driven. Ballard places it in an area on the fringe of science fiction that he calls `speculative fantasy' - an area where `dream and reality become fused together'. When I started the book I hoped it might be something like John Wyndham's `The Kraken Wakes', but it's different in almost every way, apart from the flooding. There's no enemy to defeat in order to re-establish normality. There are no solutions to the problem, other than avoidance in the shrinking cool zone. A few individuals are making mental adjustments to the catastrophic climate change that seem superficially like a sort of Lamarckian evolutionary adaptation, but the chances of their survival, in isolation, in the crocodile populated swamp areas look doubtful. The reader has to adopt a fantastic amount of suspension of disbelief to swallow the notion of race memory and reverse evolution. Even so, I sank into the story and festered happily away in its swamps and lagoons right from the start and was reluctant to slurp out of it at the end. Ballard's descriptions are, to use one of his own descriptions, like a fata Morgana: shimmering and evocative.


Very Good Book, 27 Mar 2007
March 07: To much description, not enough dialogue. Uses big words when it could use simple ones - dressing up in clothes it doesn't need to wear. Book gets interesting towards the last 70 pages. Some of the imagery from the book was beautiful.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

Thought provoking, 01 Jul 2008
I much preferred this to The Drought - the settings turn out to be more familiar and the characters seemed somewhat easier to relate to (though likeable would be going too far). The central idea of regression to thought patterns displayed millions of years ago by earlier life forms is a fascinating and quite sobering one.

Drowned world - the illustrated novel., 13 Mar 2008
In a series of 36 stunningly beautiful watercolours - some double spreads - Dick French (born 1946) manages to perfectly evoke the claustrophobic hothouse atmosphere of Ballard's novel.

The flyleaf to this larger than A4 sized edition reads:
'The sun has gone mad and stripped the earth of its ionosphere. For decades blasting radiation has poured upon earth, melting the polar caps and turning permafrost into streams, rivers, oceans. Huge deltas have been built, lakes formed, seas have risen. The continents have been entirely altered. Jungles have crept and then rushed from the equator to Greenland. Siberia is a tropical nightmare. Mosquitoes the size of dragonflies carry horrendous new malarias. Mammals are on their way out and iguanas have grown as large as horses. Ferns and clubmosses smother those parts of ancient cities - New York, Berlin, Moscow, Peking- that are not drowned and offering steaming shelter to gigantic alligators and other saurians. As for humanity, well, there are only 5 million men and women left, living in the sub-tropical confinement of the Arctic and Antarctic circles.
It is as if history were rolled backward, as if the Triassic Age were here again. Man's science is useless against the solar furnace. And man's mind? Is that also slipping backward, far backward, to before the apes, to before the mammals, to the Triassic terror itself.
This novel- written in lucid, convincing, matter-of-fact prose - is both fierce and unsensational. It has a compelling authority which grips the reader at once and keeps him in its power long after the book is read. This is an unforgettable work.'


I'm not quite sure what Ballard is doing, but it's a lot of fun trying to figure it out, 29 Jan 2008
Plenty of superlatives have been thrown around to describe Ballard. In order to avoid that, my opening gambit will be a quote by Christopher Priest. "I'm not quite sure what Ballard is doing, but it's a lot of fun trying to figure it out."

If you want a summary of the plot read the other reviews, my intention here is just to note the pleasure and excitement of reading this book. In the novel, Ballard's obvious intention is to explore what we can do with the genre normally referred to as sci-fi. In a traditionally British way he decides not to make everything as big as possible but instead reduces the elements of the catastrophe to the psychology at play.

As you would expect from any Ballard book there's a twisted longing to become the centre of the catastrophe and an uncomfortable thrill in enjoying the world going to hell.

The Chapter 'A NEW PSCHOLOGY' is almost a manifesto in itself with regards to how Ballard would go on to create a whole new take on what H.G. Wells called scientific romance. The novel covers biological manipulation, time travel, ecological disaster and all in ways so original that it makes the mind whirl. It's dream like in so many ways, but most interestingly in that 'it seemed logical in the dream but now...' feeling so common when trying to relate your inner mental journeys to someone else.

This is the first book by Ballard that I have read an actually got the whole 'Ballard is a genius' thing. The prose is controlled and effective and after I had finished i went back to re-read some chapters again, just for the hell of it.

Strongly recommended.


Planet Sauna, 20 Apr 2007
The world is heating up as a result of solar instability. Ice caps have melted and oceans have risen, flooding low-lying areas. Once temperate zones remaining above sea level have become areas of lush, tropical jungle. Surviving populations have had to migrate to the cooler, polar regions. A party of soldier and scientist representatives of these exiled people, have travelled down from the north to study the new flora and fauna that is mutating and evolving rapidly back towards ancient Triassic forms. Some members of the party start to have disturbing dreams of belonging to a hotter, wetter climate and feel drawn in the direction of the equator by some sort of ancestral memory of living in a primeval swamp. The bloated sun and steaming jungle start to feel like a fond memory of the womb to those who are most susceptible and the hypnotic pull of it dominates even their waking hours.

Some reviewers have complained that this is not proper science fiction, not hard science fiction, not fast-paced, not plot-driven. Ballard places it in an area on the fringe of science fiction that he calls `speculative fantasy' - an area where `dream and reality become fused together'. When I started the book I hoped it might be something like John Wyndham's `The Kraken Wakes', but it's different in almost every way, apart from the flooding. There's no enemy to defeat in order to re-establish normality. There are no solutions to the problem, other than avoidance in the shrinking cool zone. A few individuals are making mental adjustments to the catastrophic climate change that seem superficially like a sort of Lamarckian evolutionary adaptation, but the chances of their survival, in isolation, in the crocodile populated swamp areas look doubtful. The reader has to adopt a fantastic amount of suspension of disbelief to swallow the notion of race memory and reverse evolution. Even so, I sank into the story and festered happily away in its swamps and lagoons right from the start and was reluctant to slurp out of it at the end. Ballard's descriptions are, to use one of his own descriptions, like a fata Morgana: shimmering and evocative.


Very Good Book, 27 Mar 2007
March 07: To much description, not enough dialogue. Uses big words when it could use simple ones - dressing up in clothes it doesn't need to wear. Book gets interesting towards the last 70 pages. Some of the imagery from the book was beautiful.

Brilliant even though lots of people say so, 12 Aug 2008
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, 09 Sep 2003
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, 12 May 2003
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, 19 Mar 2003
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, 21 Feb 2003
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.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

great memoir, 17 Nov 2008
l have never read a Ballard book,but found this auto-biography very enjoyable.His narrative is simple and direct,yet it delivers with vigour and zest.This is really two books.The first is the real feast for the reader,his growing up in China and all the English snobbery and meanness.Chinese starved to death,in front of the ex-pat communities, and brutally,tortured and killed by the Japanese.The second book is his life in England.An Englishman who had never been to England.His shock at how the arrogance of the ex-pats contrasted that with the listlessness and low quality of life in England.After the initial shock of finding Britain very different to ex-pat nostalgia,the book flattens out into a little more mundane expose of the rest of Ballards life,and it does not live up to the first book of Shanghai.The photos of him as a 4 year old and his subsequent children are a delight.Ballard was one of a dying generation that lived across the old,decaying world of the colonial ex-pat and new world of youth culture and modern art and fiction,pre 60s and post 60s,and his recollection make for a fantastic holiday or christmas read.A joyous ride through time

Honest Accounting, 13 May 2008
I won't give a synopsis since this has already been done ably by other reviewers. Why this autobiography 'worked' for me is that Mr Ballard has reflected his past experiences to his present situation so movingly, and with characteristic modesty. As a young man he considered his unusual childhood to be of little interest to anyone; only late on in his life has it provided him with explicit material for fiction - and now, with this account - for fact - only latterly has he recognised that he had unconsciously used his childhood experiences as literary motifs.

Judging by his enthusiasm that came through in the middle part of the book, I suspect that Mr Ballard derived most satisfaction in his life from raising his three children on his own following the tragic death of his wife whilst on holiday - an event that he describes briefly, yet deeply movingly.

He doesn't say a great deal about his actual writing (apart from, in his earlier years, writing a short story between dropping off his children at school in the morning and picking them up in the afternoon) although he does refer interestingly to some of his books and short stories, and to his literary acquaintances. With some exceptions (Kingsley Amis, Michael Moorcock, Ian Sinclair and Will Self) he appears to have been more 'at home' with avante garde artists than with fellow writers.

I spent some time in a British expatriate community as a youngster, albeit some twenty years after Mr Ballard's time, so I could relate to this part of his life. I'm familiar with the type of people he observed, although I don't recall the grown-ups as leading nearly such dissipated life styles, neither did I witness such extremes of poverty and affluence as existed in pre-war Shanghai ... and neither was I interned by 'the enemy' for two years.

Miracles of Life is not in the slightest bit pretentious, it is simply written and lacks in any real rancour, which is so refreshing, given some of the back-biting one comes to expect from autobiographies these days, and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in what lies behind a considerable writer.

Beautifully told, 18 Mar 2008
This is a curious mixture of a book. Granted that it was written under strained and special circumstances, it is both revealing and concealing in equal measure. If you are familiar with Ballard's work and have taken an interest in him over the years, you will find nothing new here. It is, however, a joy to have it in one volume. And for all its apparent superficiality, we learn a great deal about Ballard from the structure and level of content of this work.

Nearly half the book is devoted to Ballard's first fifteen years, the time he lived in Shanghai and experienced the strange life of an expatriate community as well as internment by the Japanese. This is also the most fluent and vibrant part of the book.

It may well be that writing of his early life in his fiction, especially in Empire of the Sun, means he is well rehearsed. But it is clear these formative years are seared not just into his memory, but also his psyche. The things he saw and experienced have re-appeared time and again in his writings, sometimes filtered, but always from the same roots.

Elsewhere, there is a reticence, a shyness that produces a sketchy feeling, as if we are seeing an early draft. A pioneer of explorations into the sf of `inner space', his own inner space is closely guarded. Yet what he chooses to conceal is revealing in itself. He speaks of family life, for example, but whilst it is clear that his family was the bright sun at the centre of his universe, dimmed for a while by the sudden death of his wife, it is also clear that the rest is nobody's business but his own and theirs. I find this wonderfully refreshing - we are strangers, after all, those of us who read his books.

As a writer myself, I confess I was disappointed that Ballard did not discuss how he wrote or consider the processes by which developed certain styles, especially his concentrated novels. I would love to have known more of those early days and the discussions he had with other writers of the so-called `New Wave'. On the other hand I am not altogether surprised. Whilst undoubtedly a highly intelligent man and a skilled and innovative writer, he has never been one of the `literati', self-dissecting and self-obsessed. His work must (and does) speak for itself - with a voice that is robust, fluent, exciting, innovative, often tackling the controversial, but always worth listening to.


A Must Read, 23 Feb 2008
I couldn't put this down. Ballard writes about his time in Shanghai and makes it seem as normal as my own childhood. Then he returns to the UK - a country he has never been to - and feels a complete stranger.

Ballard's fiction is offbeat and surreal, but completely original - and this autobiography is almost an explanation of where it all came from. Fans of Ballard will find this almost an extension to his fiction.

I could not put this down. The writing is evocative without being wordy, and every page is filled with interesting thoughts.


Poignant and beautifully written autobiography, 23 Feb 2008
Quite simply, this was a joy to read.

Ballard tells of his childhood in Shanghai, internment there under the Japanese, his university years in England, right through to his writing career and the joys and tragedies he's experienced as a father and husband, and his love of family life.

What makes this book appealing is that it's not only well written and direct, but also that Ballard tells his story with an honesty and poignancy that is so rare in many autobiographies today.

This isn't about Ballard the writer, but about the circumstances and events that shaped and formed his personal values and beliefs.

You don't have to have read Ballard's fiction to enjoy this book either (although his Shanghai reminisces provide a fascinating insight into Empire of the Sun, the novel based on his internment experiences).

What stands out above all else is his enjoyment of childhood and subsequent selfless devotion and enjoyment of family through all the joys and tragedy he experienced.

His life affirming views on childhood, fatherhood, and single parenthood set this book apart from those hundreds of other autobiographies available that only tell of how individuals found (or lost) their fame or fortune.

Thought provoking, 01 Jul 2008
I much preferred this to The Drought - the settings turn out to be more familiar and the characters seemed somewhat easier to relate to (though likeable would be going too far). The central idea of regression to thought patterns displayed millions of years ago by earlier life forms is a fascinating and quite sobering one.

Drowned world - the illustrated novel., 13 Mar 2008
In a series of 36 stunningly beautiful watercolours - some double spreads - Dick French (born 1946) manages to perfectly evoke the claustrophobic hothouse atmosphere of Ballard's novel.

The flyleaf to this larger than A4 sized edition reads:
'The sun has gone mad and stripped the earth of its ionosphere. For decades blasting radiation has poured upon earth, melting the polar caps and turning permafrost into streams, rivers, oceans. Huge deltas have been built, lakes formed, seas have risen. The continents have been entirely altered. Jungles have crept and then rushed from the equator to Greenland. Siberia is a tropical nightmare. Mosquitoes the size of dragonflies carry horrendous new malarias. Mammals are on their way out and iguanas have grown as large as horses. Ferns and clubmosses smother those parts of ancient cities - New York, Berlin, Moscow, Peking- that are not drowned and offering steaming shelter to gigantic alligators and other saurians. As for humanity, well, there are only 5 million men and women left, living in the sub-tropical confinement of the Arctic and Antarctic circles.
It is as if history were rolled backward, as if the Triassic Age were here again. Man's science is useless against the solar furnace. And man's mind? Is that also slipping backward, far backward, to before the apes, to before the mammals, to the Triassic terror itself.
This novel- written in lucid, convincing, matter-of-fact prose - is both fierce and unsensational. It has a compelling authority which grips the reader at once and keeps him in its power long after the book is read. This is an unforgettable work.'


I'm not quite sure what Ballard is doing, but it's a lot of fun trying to figure it out, 29 Jan 2008
Plenty of superlatives have been thrown around to describe Ballard. In order to avoid that, my opening gambit will be a quote by Christopher Priest. "I'm not quite sure what Ballard is doing, but it's a lot of fun trying to figure it out."

If you want a summary of the plot read the other reviews, my intention here is just to note the pleasure and excitement of reading this book. In the novel, Ballard's obvious intention is to explore what we can do with the genre normally referred to as sci-fi. In a traditionally British way he decides not to make everything as big as possible but instead reduces the elements of the catastrophe to the psychology at play.

As you would expect from any Ballard book there's a twisted longing to become the centre of the catastrophe and an uncomfortable thrill in enjoying the world going to hell.

The Chapter 'A NEW PSCHOLOGY' is almost a manifesto in itself with regards to how Ballard would go on to create a whole new take on what H.G. Wells called scientific romance. The novel covers biological manipulation, time travel, ecological disaster and all in ways so original that it makes the mind whirl. It's dream like in so many ways, but most interestingly in that 'it seemed logical in the dream but now...' feeling so common when trying to relate your inner mental journeys to someone else.

This is the first book by Ballard that I have read an actually got the whole 'Ballard is a genius' thing. The prose is controlled and effective and after I had finished i went back to re-read some chapters again, just for the hell of it.

Strongly recommended.


Planet Sauna, 20 Apr 2007
The world is heating up as a result of solar instability. Ice caps have melted and oceans have risen, flooding low-lying areas. Once temperate zones remaining above sea level have become areas of lush, tropical jungle. Surviving populations have had to migrate to the cooler, polar regions. A party of soldier and scientist representatives of these exiled people, have travelled down from the north to study the new flora and fauna that is mutating and evolving rapidly back towards ancient Triassic forms. Some members of the party start to have disturbing dreams of belonging to a hotter, wetter climate and feel drawn in the direction of the equator by some sort of ancestral memory of living in a primeval swamp. The bloated sun and steaming jungle start to feel like a fond memory of the womb to those who are most susceptible and the hypnotic pull of it dominates even their waking hours.

Some reviewers have complained that this is not proper science fiction, not hard science fiction, not fast-paced, not plot-driven. Ballard places it in an area on the fringe of science fiction that he calls `speculative fantasy' - an area where `dream and reality become fused together'. When I started the book I hoped it might be something like John Wyndham's `The Kraken Wakes', but it's different in almost every way, apart from the flooding. There's no enemy to defeat in order to re-establish normality. There are no solutions to the problem, other than avoidance in the shrinking cool zone. A few individuals are making mental adjustments to the catastrophic climate change that seem superficially like a sort of Lamarckian evolutionary adaptation, but the chances of their survival, in isolation, in the crocodile populated swamp areas look doubtful. The reader has to adopt a fantastic amount of suspension of disbelief to swallow the notion of race memory and reverse evolution. Even so, I sank into the story and festered happily away in its swamps and lagoons right from the start and was reluctant to slurp out of it at the end. Ballard's descriptions are, to use one of his own descriptions, like a fata Morgana: shimmering and evocative.


Very Good Book, 27 Mar 2007
March 07: To much description, not enough dialogue. Uses big words when it could use simple ones - dressing up in clothes it doesn't need to wear. Book gets interesting towards the last 70 pages. Some of the imagery from the book was beautiful.

Brilliant even though lots of people say so, 12 Aug 2008
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, 09 Sep 2003
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, 12 May 2003
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, 19 Mar 2003
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, 21 Feb 2003
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 wh