Damn. This one hits me quite hard. I have enormous respect for Ballard's work; I see him as one of the major mythographers of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries; someone who had a very perceptive analytical and clinical eye on the pulsebeat of many of our unadmitted drives as a society; a futurist -- in at least several senses of the word -- with a keen eye and an even keener sense of irony, yet with an intense core of humanitarianism to him; qualities which earned for him both a critical and popular acceptance far beyond either "cult" or genre....
His was a truly unique (and wonderful) voice, and his death will leave a notable hole in the firmament of modern and forward-looking literature. I feel I should say something like "we'll always have his body of work" (which, of course, is true), but given the uniqueness and richness of that work, I can't help but wish we had even more....