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A review by alexisrt
High-Rise by J.G. Ballard
2.0
I wish I could say I liked this more. It was very well written and kept me hooked to the end.
Unfortunately, there were serious underlying flaws with the premise and construction of the book. The concept has obvious appeal, especially given the backdrop of 1970s Britain. The problem is that Ballard left significant weaknesses in his setup, and left everything obvious. Very little in the plot felt surprising. While the initial setup hooks you--you want to know how Laing winds up on that balcony--it also damages the plot: You know the ending, the book does not attempt to deviate from a straight line in getting you there, and things feel ham-fisted. The division of the building into literal lower, middle, and upper classes makes sense from a plot point of view, allowing the elevators and Wilder's ascent of the building to be used as elements of the plot, but feels simplistic.
Throughout the book, I found myself complaining about the obvious plot holes, and getting annoyed at myself for it, because strict factual accuracy isn't the point and I was being needlessly pedantic. Unfortunately, even on reflection, I don't think the book achieved the necessary level of suspension of disbelief for me to be able to overlook them. Obviously, in order for the plot to work, the events inside the high rise must occur without interruption from the outside world. I can accept the premise of the tenants actually enjoying social breakdown at some level and therefore not leaving or calling the police. However, Ballard sacrifices consistency for convenience. When it is necessary for the outside world to be involved; they are, but when it isn't, they're not. Tenants leave to go to work almost until the end, but none seem to bring food back. Food runs out before alcohol. How are they having these constant alcohol fuelled parties? How is the liquor store restocked, but not the supermarket? Ballard wants the reader to ignore these pesky details and merely accept the breakdown of social order. It's not convenient for the store to be restocked, so it isn't, and we're meant to believe that the residents just don't care about it--only it seems they do care about hunger.
I finished the book frustrated, feeling that Ballard had taken a promising concept and not developed it well.
Unfortunately, there were serious underlying flaws with the premise and construction of the book. The concept has obvious appeal, especially given the backdrop of 1970s Britain. The problem is that Ballard left significant weaknesses in his setup, and left everything obvious. Very little in the plot felt surprising. While the initial setup hooks you--you want to know how Laing winds up on that balcony--it also damages the plot: You know the ending, the book does not attempt to deviate from a straight line in getting you there, and things feel ham-fisted. The division of the building into literal lower, middle, and upper classes makes sense from a plot point of view, allowing the elevators and Wilder's ascent of the building to be used as elements of the plot, but feels simplistic.
Throughout the book, I found myself complaining about the obvious plot holes, and getting annoyed at myself for it, because strict factual accuracy isn't the point and I was being needlessly pedantic. Unfortunately, even on reflection, I don't think the book achieved the necessary level of suspension of disbelief for me to be able to overlook them. Obviously, in order for the plot to work, the events inside the high rise must occur without interruption from the outside world. I can accept the premise of the tenants actually enjoying social breakdown at some level and therefore not leaving or calling the police. However, Ballard sacrifices consistency for convenience. When it is necessary for the outside world to be involved; they are, but when it isn't, they're not. Tenants leave to go to work almost until the end, but none seem to bring food back. Food runs out before alcohol. How are they having these constant alcohol fuelled parties? How is the liquor store restocked, but not the supermarket? Ballard wants the reader to ignore these pesky details and merely accept the breakdown of social order. It's not convenient for the store to be restocked, so it isn't, and we're meant to believe that the residents just don't care about it--only it seems they do care about hunger.
I finished the book frustrated, feeling that Ballard had taken a promising concept and not developed it well.