The Complete Short Stories: Volume 2
J. G. Ballard, Adam Thirwell
Language: English
Pages: 593
ISBN: 2:00246428
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Author note: Introduction by Adam Thirwell
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The second in a two volume collection of acclaimed short stories by the author of Empire of the Sun, Crash, Cocaine Nights and Super-Cannes. JG Ballard is firmly established as one of Britain's most highly regarded and influential novelists.
However, during his long career he was also a prolific writer of short stories, many of which show the germination of ideas he used in his longer fiction. This, the second book in a two-volume collection, offers a platform from which to view Ballard's other works. Almost all of his novels had their seeds in short stories and this collection provides an extraordinary opportunity to trace the development of one of Britain's most visionary writers.
genius from the fashion world had found her singing at the open-air nightclub at Lagoon West. Seeing in this beautiful fifteen-year-old the apotheosis of the teenage cult, Kaiser had made her his star model for the bio-fabric fashions he designed. Four years later, at the age of nineteen, she had her first face-lift, followed by even more extensive plastic surgery in the years immediately after. When Kaiser died she came back to Lagoon West, to the house near the deserted nightclub. ‘I left so
hungry as myself. ‘I think they want us to get them out,’ I said to Hodson. ‘Otherwise, we can’t get across. They know we threw them into the water.’ ‘For God’s sake …’ Exasperated, Hodson pushed past the Japanese and clambered down the bank of the canal. Waist-deep among the corpses, he began to sort them out with his strong arms. ‘Aren’t they going to help?’ he called up in an aggrieved way when the Japanese made no effort to move. Needless to say, Hodson and I were obliged to lift the
When the clocks were going again he went down to the basement. For ten minutes he moved from car to car, stepping in and out of the Cadillacs and Citroëns. None of the cars would start, but in the service bay he found a Honda motorcycle, and after filling the tank managed to kick the engine into life. As he set off from Columbine the sounds of the exhaust reverberated off the walls around him, but a mile from the town, when he stopped to adjust the carburettor, the town seemed to have been
at the door of the hutch, but the animal refused to appear. The group resumed their circuit of the cages, squinting in the dim light. Meanwhile the dwarf and the woman remained silent to one side. The woman stood by the steps of the caravan, looking out at her patrons as if unconcerned whether they came or not. The dwarf, his bulky hat hiding his face, stood patiently on the other side of the arena, moving his ground as the party of visitors continued their tour. He was not carrying a collection
little Van Gogh was withdrawn. Everyone here thought I’d gone mad. Our dark-faced friend leapt up and demanded the reason, so I had to say that I suspected the authenticity of the painting and was protecting the reputation of the gallery, but if satisfied would put it up the next day.’ ‘Clever of you,’ I commented. Georg inclined his head. ‘I thought so too. It was a neat trap. Immediately he launched into a passionate defence of the painting – normally a man with his obvious experience of sale