When the last of the 2,000 tenants enter the high-rise it seems as though a perfect community is being established. The grade school, multiple shopping centers, restaurants, grocery store, liquor store, swimming pools, gym, and observation deck/garden effectively remove the need to venture into the outside world. But things take a dystopic turn when simple acts of social disobedience such as partying too hard, or failing to dispose of garbage correctly begin to create friction between residents. From here Ballard just keeps doling out the worst of human nature. It becomes apparent very quickly that even though the 40 story high-rise is supposed to be a self-sufficient community, there is a division between the upper, middle and lower class tenants conveniently represented by the floors they live on.

Ballard chooses three point of view characters in Richard Wilder, the 2^nd floor documentarian, Dr. Robert Laing, the 25^th floor professor, and Anthony Royal, the designer of the high-rise who resides in the 40^th floor penthouse. It’s difficult to describe any of these characters as a protagonist as all of them are portrayed in a pessimistically human way.  As with the rest of the tenants, their morality becomes questionable when the living situations within the isolated labyrinth deteriorate. Small annoyances are met with vile retaliation such as having pets defecate in offender’s hallways. Women are sexually assaulted by men from rival floors. Defiant war parties rise from the depths to the upper levels leaving destruction in their wake. Apartments are fortified for siege and tenants refuse to leave the structure for fear of being ransacked. It may be hard for some readers to understand just how things slip so far without police intervening, but Ballard focuses much of his attention on mob mentality and man’s capacity to destroy itself. At many points throughout the story, Laing expresses his desire to leave his office and return home early so he can see what madness has transpired over the course of the day. Instead of fearing the self-destructive nature of the tenants, he becomes enraptured by the chaotic reality that replaces his post-high-rise existence.

To say that High-Rise is monothematic is an understatement, but it isn’t a criticism. Ballard intentionally writes his characters as being negatively susceptible to the technology and commodities that surround them. The freedom and ease with which they can destroy themselves is always a major theme in his works. High-Rise can be thought of as an adult Lord of the Flies. The themes of groupthink, irrational reactions and morality/immorality are all prevalent in both, the only difference being there aren’t really characters that readers will support heavily in High-Rise.

High-Rise reads quickly and brutally with a strong sense of cynicism. At times it can be graphic, but Ballard isn’t out to shock readers with vivid descriptions of murder or violence, he leaves that up to you. – Kevin Corcoran, Interlibrary Loan

Neville Shute’s novel, On the Beach was first published in 1957.  World War II was still fresh in the mind, powerful countries had drawn their curtains leaving room for uncomfortable speculation about further conflicts and the atomic exclamation point that put an end to the war was poisoning thoughts worldwide.  It was a time when it was thought that the collapse of civilization was going to come from an outside force.  A xenophobic chokehold spread over western countries and silence was taken as a sign of hostile plotting.  Then there was Australia.

On the Beach takes place in Melbourne, one of the southern most cities of any real population in the world.  A sort of World War III has finally dawned and due to some horrible miscommunications, around 16 countries in the northern hemisphere have unleashed their cobalt cored nuclear bombs and human life is now nonexistent north of the equator. The focus of On the Beach is not the ‘why?’ of the war, but of the ‘what to do now?’  The war lasted just 37 days, leaving the population in the southern hemisphere scratching their heads.  Due to the nature of the global wind currents, nuclear fallout has yet to reach as far as Australia and some South American and African countries, but it seems inevitable that it will completely encompass the world eventually.

One of the last living Americans is the captain of the U.S.S. Scorpion, Dwight Towers.  He takes refuge with his sub in Melbourne and quickly makes friends with Australian navy officer Peter Holmes and his wife Mary, who are new parents struggling with familial logistics more than the coming apocalypse.  They introduce Towers to a young, reckless, alcoholic named Moira.  Out of these four main characters, Moira is the only one that seems to be poorly coping with the idea that their existence is limited.  Everyone else seems content working at the jobs they had before the war and going about life as usual.  Moira on the other hand is torn.  She’s too young to start a family, which is what she really wants, so instead she resorts to living ‘loosely’ and drinking heavily.

Shute keeps the emotional tone of the story of the end of the world suppressed.  Such a serious subject as committing suicide when it becomes obvious that the radiation poising is setting in is never dealt with wild sensation.  The characters don’t go crazy; there are no riots, murders, rapes or drug abuse.  Instead society continues as usual until the cogs in the machine can’t turn any longer.  Some succumb to recklessness and vice, but overall, people stick to the order that they’re used to.  The book sends a good message that we may not be able to control when we go out, but we can choose to do it with some dignity.

-Kevin, Interlibrary Loan

Admittedly, I didn’t even know James Sallis existed until I saw the trance inducing, hyper-violent, awkward Ryan Gossling character piece of a film.  It captivated me enough to dig to its roots.  What I found was Sallis’ equally violent, equally somber novella of the same name lying there waiting for me to breeze through its sparsely worded pages and refresh the satisfaction I felt after seeing the movie, while I waited for the DVD release.

Essentially the story and theme of both mediums is the same, save for the book being a little darker and containing a few more scenes of violence.  I can’t really imagine anyone being too offended with Ryan Gossling’s portrayal of “Driver” even if he manages to throw in a lot of his shy guy charm.  Anyway, I’ll stop talking about how the movie compares to the book and start with the review of Driven.

Driven picks up 7 years after the bloody conclusion of Drive.  In what I’ve come to understand as typical Sallis style, the book opens with the bone dry description of Driver’s (now going by the alias, Paul West) wife being murdered and the quick, bone breaking, choke out retaliation he exacts on the attackers.  Initially it seemed as though he had escaped the inescapable crime family he had so viciously removed members from in the previous installation.  As the story progresses though, Driver can’t shake the feeling that he’s being pursued because of his involvement in the death of Bernie Rose and his partner Nino, despite having stepped on the toes of presumably hundreds of other criminals with varying degrees of power over the years.

The bulk of the Driven story is hunter/hunted, unknown men driving suspiciously, visceral violence, accurate (sounding) descriptions of cars (I don’t know much about cars) and piecing together any clues Driver can obtain from the last words of his pursuers.  Sallis offers a non-complex story because it doesn’t need complexity.  The point of view is 3rd person, but it’s mostly restricted to Driver himself.  Instead of presupposing things about the people pursuing him, or getting too heavy with investigation, he simply moves along his straight line and waits for his enemies to divulge their motives.  There are a few twists and turns, but the focus is always just getting to that last guy that wants Driver dead and making sure he doesn’t want him dead anymore (which usually means violent confrontation, but always reactionary in nature.)

If you want a quick read that doesn’t sit around and ponder the consequences of an individuals actions, Driven would be a good one to pick up.  Sallis’ writing isn’t over the top and always sounds cultured but not too sophisticated. He’ll take you on a brutal ride through the desert to the grime coated haunts of the antisocial protagonist.  Just like in real life, some of the relationships that you want to develop will be cut short and some bonds will grow through unforeseen circumstances, but unlike most peoples lives, Driver’s relationships are always tainted by bloodshed and suspicion. - Kevin, Interlibrary Loan