If you've read any of J.G. Ballard's recent work (Cocaine Nights, Super-Cannes et al - I haven't tackled Millennium People yet) you probably won't be too surprised by his particular viewing angle in Kingdom Come, though his sights have moved on from the upwardly mobile white-collar workforce of Super-Cannes to the sport-mad, shopping-obsessed proletariat. In the process of investigating his father's murder in a shopping centre, an ex-advertising exec comes face to face with the new religion of consumer-fascism that he (and, y'know, all of us - which is the book's not-so-subtle point) helped create. He ties in the rush on St George flags with shopping frenzies and the ugly tide of racist attacks in England. One can't help thinking of New Waver's song Chadstone whilst reading the book.
17:28 reading
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