There are some books whose visions will live in my head forever. Among them are the post-apocalyptic urban ferocity of High Rise, the sex and metal eroticism of Crash and the surgically-precise insanity of The Atrocity Exhibition -- all written by J.G Ballard, whose most famous novel, Empire of the Sun, was also his most sedate. His visions even come with their own culturally-penetrating soundtracks courtesy of musicians who found inspiration in his clinical post-mortems of our cold and alienating world.
Over at Ballardian, lots of friends and admirers bid a fond farewell to Ballard, who died this month after a long bout with cancer. I found Michael Moorcock's touching remembrance to be the most revealing portrait of Ballard, who valued and cultivated his privacy.
Here's a great quote from Ballard himself:
I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.
I believe in the non-existence of the past, in the death of the future, and the infinite possibilities of the present.
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