I remember getting on a run of Ballard novels going back quite a few years and read The Attrocity Exhibition on a Kindle. The digital transcription process must have been flawed as there were many spelling mistakes and other oddities (incidentally, not the only time I've found this with Kindle editions). But it was one of the only novels (maybe "books" is a better word) where this actually contributed to the atmosphere. I feel like he would have approved, or at least appreciated it, and all the more amusing given the last part of the interview:
> INTERVIEWER
> Now, that old chestnut: Do you have any advice for young writers?
> BALLARD
> A lifetime’s experience urges me to utter a warning cry: do anything else, take someone’s golden retriever for a walk, run away with a saxophone player. Perhaps what’s wrong with being a writer is that one can’t even say “good luck”—luck plays no part in the writing of a novel. No happy accidents as with the paint pot or chisel.
Little did he know that decades later a flawed optical to digital process (I assume?) to sell his work to a global megacorporation, which is destroying the high street and employs thousands in drab warehouses and vans, so that I could consume content wirelessly without leaving my home, would lead to a happy accident. Dystopian modernity indeed.
I just (last night) read The Intensive Care Unit [1] - it was great, and I've been thinking about it all day. Very fitting for the current pandemic situation.
I recommend Ballard fans or fans of fiction in general check out, "The Best Short Stories of J. G. Ballard" (1978) for a great compilation of some of his classics.
I highly recommend the movie “Empire of the Sun” in addition to the book, which the article says had just been published at the time of the interview. The movie was directed by Spielberg and stars a young Christian Bale. It’s one of my favorites, but seems to have been mostly forgotten, or at least I seldom hear it mentioned.
> INTERVIEWER
> Now, that old chestnut: Do you have any advice for young writers?
> BALLARD
> A lifetime’s experience urges me to utter a warning cry: do anything else, take someone’s golden retriever for a walk, run away with a saxophone player. Perhaps what’s wrong with being a writer is that one can’t even say “good luck”—luck plays no part in the writing of a novel. No happy accidents as with the paint pot or chisel.
Little did he know that decades later a flawed optical to digital process (I assume?) to sell his work to a global megacorporation, which is destroying the high street and employs thousands in drab warehouses and vans, so that I could consume content wirelessly without leaving my home, would lead to a happy accident. Dystopian modernity indeed.