I'm too excited to form coherent sentences here - how can I start? Okay, okay. Calm down... Right. Well. Let's start by saying that Will Self is somewhat accomplished in his art. How's that? No, that's a gross injustice; he is a master. He can write to beat the devil... he is swift, witty, brutal, soft, honest and ever-expanding in scope and meaning.
To be honest, the subjects of his intensely readable scribblings are - in themselves - reason enough to purchase this book. There are inspirational passages on Beat writer William S. Burroughs, notes on the 'sick, sick bastard' Bret Easton Ellis, the outspoken Damien Hurst, conversations with such literary greats as J.G. Ballard and Martin Amis. *gasps for breath* Heck, not to mention notes on penis operations, Woody Allen's complete prose, the benefits and drawbacks of slacking ('Slack Attack') and other amusing and resonant pieces.
One Amazon reviewer wrote that reading Will Self makes them want to write themselves. I completely assent. Never have I wanted to be so witty, amusing and yet practical and functional at the same time before... Heck, maybe I should stop writing this twoddle and go find my pen right now!
Oh, and I recommend the book - by the way.