A shocking collision of warped sexuality and twisted metal

"I wanted to rub the human face in its own vomit - and force it to look in the mirror." With these words, J.G. Ballard described the aim of his 1973 novel Crash. A harrowing descent into a bizarre subculture of damaged outcasts whose sexual fetishes centre on the car crash, the novel is Ballard's disturbing diagnosis of the 20th century. The writer described it as a "deranging book to write", which made him hate himself because he felt he was "dealing in deadly things.. like a sort of arms salesman."

Welcome to a tour of an unsettling vision of the highways and byways of a concrete dystopia, and a novel which is science fiction of a unique kind - a deranged hellscape of the here and now.

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