Concrete Island (JG Ballard)

There’s something sparse and Hemingway-like about Ballard’s writing. Sometimes he conjures a vivid world (Cocaine Nights, for example) – other times, as in Concrete Island, it’s too sparse. I found myself disoriented on the island, buildings and landmarks appearing from nowhere, the space growing and shifting chapter by chapter.

I was stirred by Maitland’s changing motivations, his desperation to escape or dominate, assimilate or conquer. A relatable derangement.

An unsettling novel, partly through intent & partly through overly thin writing.

I’m writing a few sentences about every book I finish. Comments are a good place to recommend other things I should read!