Those who know me know I love Ballard. I've been obsessed with the late J.G. Ballard -- his novels, his short stories, his essays -- since I was 17. In fact, I've declaimed my love for his prose, perversion, and prescience in The A.V. Club, Fantasy Magazine, Weird Tales, and random street corners around America. His catalog has always been criminally underserved here in the U.S., but that's finally getting rectified. The hardcover, fiftieth-anniversary edition of The Drowned World -- the best of Ballard's early apoclypse novels (note: I'm not counting The Crystal World among them, seeing as how that's a transitional novel in a subgenre all its own) -- just arrived in my mailbox. It's a beauty. Let the Ballard reissues begin.
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