Like Sturgeon most of the rest of his catalog is weird, mealy pulp.
“Lot” deals with David Jimmon, a Los Angeles suburbanite whose car is packed to the gills like a mockery of a camping vacation, as he prepares for the long crawl along a freeway full of motorists hoping to flee the atomic blasts raining down on American cities. Jimmon gloats over his preparedness, mentally chiding his family—two obnoxious sons, a naive wife, and dutiful daughter Erika—for their lack of vision. For you see, unlike his family, Jimmon has realized that this is the end of civilization, that they are now on their own, that bridge nights and grocery stores and teenage dating drama has now been replaced by icy survivalism. Only Jimmon realizes how cutthroat this new world is, and how callous his family must become to survive in it.
Therein lies the crux of “Lot,” which isn’t the icy libertarian power-fantasy you’d expect; instead, it’s a portrait of the meek family man full of middle-age (and middle-class) resentments now loosed upon the wilds, a broken individual unrestrained by the flimsy pretenses of civilization or law. ...
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