J.G. Ballard dystopic visionary

'The danger is that consumerism will need something close to fascism in order to keep growing. The consumer society is a kind of soft police state.' -Dr. Maxted in J.G. Ballard's "Kingdom Come"

I will admit that one of my favorite novelists is the hard to place speculative fiction author, J.G. Ballard. It is an admission because his vision of the future is so dysfunctional and penetrated with a sadness that I have never experienced, but at the same time I can see that his vision of the future of humanity is sadly ringing true. Take the most extreme plot line and you will see what I mean (from Hello America):

In Las Vegas, roaming bands of Mexican teenagers welcome them to the citadel of late 20th century glitter. Their charismatic leader — a William Burroughs look-alike addressed reverently as President Charles Manson — invites Wayne into his cybernetic stronghold.

How far is this fictional mass murdering president from our own current president? Amy Goodman recently asked Ralph Nader if George Bush was irrelavent now. His answer, without hesistation, was, "Of course, he is a National Security Threat" How Ballardian is that. It is amazing that there is such a term as "Ballardian",

" Resembling or suggestive of the conditions described in J.G. Ballard’s novels & stories, esp. dystopian modernity, bleak man-made landscapes & the psychological effects of technological, social or environmental developments". Collins English Dictionary.

And yet with all of his dire "Empire of the Sun" malaise always boarding on malaria, there is an undertone of the desire for a real utopia, a knowledge that we all share of a world without the tawdry realism of our individual perversions and unhealthy desires. A world without cults or pathos. Unfortunately, this is the unreal world of dreams that never end.
Ballard is reaching for this dream in his most pastoral, his most haunting book"Unlimited Dream Company"
The main character Blake, already has a Messianic belief in himself:

Rejected would-be mercenary pilot, failed Jesuit novice, unpublished writer of pornography … for all these failures I had a tenacious faith in myself, a messiah as yet without a message who would one day assemble a unique identity out of this defective jigsaw.

The ghost of my mother visited me in the dream world last night. She was turning her head away and moving into the new light, the light inside our dreams.