>reading J.G. Ballard story
>random homo shit out of nowhere
>"I celebrated in his tight buttocks a new stylised form of violence"
every fucking time
>HURRR DURRR DONT FUCKING CORRECT SOMEBODY FOR BEING FUCKING RETARDED ON A FUCKING LITERATURE BOARD
This is why this fucking board is going to shit. You faggots came here from r/books and tumblr and god knows where and get your fucking feelings hurt if someone calls you out on your intellectual desolation and thin skinned arbitrariness. You pixies are the reason books are just memes now. Seriously I saw a fucking thread the other day where Ready Player One AND The Martian were both PRAISED and everyone who didn't like them were called "Hurr durr elitists durrr hurr" Fuck you and fuck your shitty books and "muh feelings" post get the fuck off /lit/ and go back to beating each other off over John Green books idiot faggot retards
>reading W.S. Burroughs story
>homo shit pauses out of nowhere
>"We decided to make an orgone accumulator and assemble it in the loft"
every fucking time
Pretty good Ballardesque sentence, but I've never actually noticed homosex in his work except for Crash.
What's up with Ballard's style, anyway? It's kind of deliberately over-intellectual and sterile, but he combines that with characters who seem to have come out of B-movies in which scientists battle monsters of their own creation. Also the dialogue usually feels like it's not even trying to be realistic, kind of the equivalent of David Lynch's stilted, artificial-feeling scenes. Shit's very strange.
>What's up with Ballard's style, anyway? It's kind of deliberately over-intellectual and sterile, but he combines that with characters who seem to have come out of B-movies in which scientists battle monsters of their own creation. Also the dialogue usually feels like it's not even trying to be realistic, kind of the equivalent of David Lynch's stilted, artificial-feeling scenes. Shit's very strange
Welcome to Postmodernism my friend. It's kind of an either you like it or you don't situation.
The characters feel like mannequins that are only participating in the story because they have to. Their personalities are solely the output of the algorithms and technologies around them.
(I've only read Ballard's urban apocalypse-themed shit)
>reading D.H Lawrence
>'So the two men entwined and wrestled with each other, working nearer and nearer. Both were white and clear, but Gerald flushed smart red where he was touched, and Birkin remained white and tense. He seemed to penetrate into Gerald's more solid, more diffuse bulk, to interfuse his body through the body of the other, as if to bring it subtly into subjection, always seizing with some rapid necromantic fore-knowledge every motion of the other flesh, converting and counteracting it, playing upon the limbs and trunk of Gerald like some hard wind. It was as if Birkin's whole physical intelligence interpenetrated into Gerald's body, as if his fine, sublimated energy entered into the flesh of the fuller man, like some potency, casting a fine net, a prison, through the muscles into the very depths of Gerald's physical being'
Start off with his later stuff. The Drowned World is worth reading after you've developed a taste for Ballard to see him in early form, but I wouldn't advise anyone to start off with it.