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12 of 13 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Atrocity Exhibition: The Motherload of Ballard's Darker Vein, February 14, 1997
By A Customer
I could easily title this review The Patients are Running the Asylum (and Isn't It Wonderful), but you'll have to read The Atrocity Exhibition to find out why....
This strangely elegant work seems to be the nexus of Ballard's 'Concrete Trilogy' (formed by Crash, Concrete Island, and High Rise) . These other works are crisper with straight ahead, if fantastic, plots and a tight focus on their subject matter. Atrocity Exhibition is where Ballard fuses everything from this period of his writing. Sex and Speed collide with Isolation and Arhitecture to create a narrative seemingly out of control, but with its own dream logic.
Small, usually paragraph-sized, snap shots follow hard on one another in this artfully crafted non-linear tale. It's also decidely fast paced. Imagine someone resurrecting Max Ernest to direct a Hong Kong-style thriller. The reader zips along in divine confusion as characters that we think we understand seem to drift from there moorings into an increasingly abstract landscape. And its hard to tell if we are looking at decay or evolution.
For that matter opposites are played against one another throughout. We are left to balance discourses on Freud and Jung with chapter titles like 'Why I Want to Fuck Ronald Reagan' and 'The Assassination of John F. Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Road Race'. In true Dadaist style Ballard pushes our preconceptions of high and low art with this kind of play.
The greatest delight of Atrocity Exhibition is how hard the reader has to work to keep up. Just when you think you've figured out what this tale is about, you realize that you've only reached the foothills of another steep learning curve. But don't worry, the wonder, the strangeness, and the perversity will keep you coming for more. The mind's natural desire to create narrative is thwarted again and again to be rewarded with something deeper and more profound, but almost indescribable.
Full of strange intertextual references and images this book is still years ahead of its time. It's also not without it's own deadpan humor. At one point we see a full scale replicable of Keinholz's sculpture 'Dodge '57' (which consists of the back end of a '57 and the legs of a couple making out) zooming down the highway. Ballard also weaves in his obsession with the Space Program. Even though the manned interstellar missions are over for now, we've only begun to explore the space these travels have opened up in our minds. Atrocity Exhibition, written in the late '60s, places Ballard firmly in the vanguard of those exploring the fertile space between machine and mythology.
This work is by a master of the surrealistic at the height of his powers. The next time you hear someone carping about the impossiblity of interactivity in art, just smack 'em in the side of the head with a copy of The Atrocity Exhibition.
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