Conceptual Fiction is a regular feature, contributed by Ted Gioia, focusing on major works of fantasy, science fiction, magical realism and alternate history. These books are celebrated in recognition that literary experimentation with ways of conceptualizing reality has been as important as experimentation with language in creating fiction of lasting value. Dismissing these books as genre or escapist works has created a blind-spot in literary studies that this feature aims, in some small part, to rectify.
This disturbing novel is often classified as science fiction, though at first glance the label may seem unjustified. The most advanced technologies described in this book are cars and airplanes—and very conventional ones at that. Unlike other Ballard books, such as The Crystal World or The Drowned World, with their apocalyptic sci-fi scenarios, Crash describes a world that apparently is just like our own.
Well, on second thought, maybe not. The technology in Crash may be familiar, but the people can hardly be from this planet. At the opening of the book, the narrator (named Ballard in the novel) describes his recently deceased friend Vaughan, who had a bizarre erotic obsession with car crashes, automobile injuries and motorway mishaps of the most violent sort. This might be plausible, but when we find that the narrator Ballard is also fixated on the sexual potential of car crashes, the reader is doubtful that there are two sickos in the same town. But then we are introduced to Ballard’s girlfriend Catherine, who also finds auto collisions to be a technological aphrodisiac. And did I mention Ballard’s sometime mistress Helen Remington (they met when he killed her husband in a car accident), who also gets aroused by metal-bending pile-ups on the Interstate?
No, these are not believable characters. I have spent a lot of time driving on the roads over the years, and I can attest that you are more likely to find a hobbit, a Hogwarts alum, and two Dune sandworms in the car next to you, than this unlikely foursome. By sheer Darwinian logic, people who need to slam their vehicle into a bus in order to get aroused do not propagate. Heck, they're lucky to live beyond the expiration date on their DMV learner's permit.
These odd characters and their strange inter-relationships are what give Crash the aura of a futuristic book. And their envisioned Armageddon—or “Carmageddon,” as Ballard prefers to describe it—may be as creepy as an attack by Triffids or a virus from outer space, but it is the people themselves, and not their technology, who make us uneasy. The characters here represent something new in fiction; the nihilism of, say, Bazarov in Turgenev's Fathers and Sons looks like Mister Rogers in comfy slippers by comparison.
Article comments
1 - Aaron Fleming
Cold and sterile was my experience of reading Crash. I admire it on one level, in terms of its ability to evoke feelings of displeasure in the face of the mechanical techno-dystopia he has created. But I found it tough to digest. I do like Ballard's work, and other products of his 'concrete and steel' period, novels such as High Rise and Concrete Island, I think are excellent. I might reread Crash at some point, perhaps my mind may have matured enough to enjoy its interesting content.
Also, I want to take this opportunity to mention that I thoroughly enjoy your Conceptual Fiction and New Cannon columns. Keep up the good work!