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Book review
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Will Self - Liver
- Rating:
- Publisher: Viking £18.99
- Reviewer: John O’Connell
- Posted: Mon Sep 8 2008
This inspired collection of four stories uses the liver as framework and controlling metaphor – there’s a tale for each lobe – but is less interested in the organ as a metabolic regulator than in what happens when it’s damaged beyond repair. At this point, Self’s gift for (ahem) bilious satire kicks in, its target largely the ‘slapstick of addiction’ – for which the reformed junky has witheringly little time.
The first story, ‘Foie Humain’, plumps a stool for us in ‘miasmal’ Soho members’ club the Plantation (sic), where raddled old gits drink themselves to death while employing a unique and self-congratulatory argot in which the word ‘cunt’ features heavily. Self conjures this world with brio so that we sense all too clearly the rage that underlies the glibness. In narrative terms, not much happens until the horrible climax, but there’s a very funny sequence where the club’s regulars venture outside to see one of their number in a production of Beckett’s ‘Endgame’ at a nearby theatre. The effort nearly kills them: ‘“Why – why the fuck,” Val panted, “did we fucking walk here?”’
‘Leberknödel’ follows a dying woman (she has liver cancer) and the daughter she despises as they travel to Zurich to achieve her ‘assisted suicide’. At the last moment, she refuses to drink the proffered phenobarbital. Which is just as well, for spontaneous recovery ensues – a recovery so remarkable that she is co-opted by a mysterious Catholic sect which recognises her value as propaganda. ‘Leberknödel’ is at its most effective when it’s least Self-ish. The first half, which may surprise those who have Self pegged as a dealer in outsized grotesquery, captures beautifully the rancorous dysfunctionality that can attend mother-daughter relationships. The second drags a little as Self seems uncertain when to wrap things up.
The last two stories are shorter. ‘Birdy Num Num’ is a heroin horror show narrated by a sub-microscopic agent of HIV, while ‘Prometheus’ transports characters from Greek myth to London’s adland. The fire-stealing Titan was, you will recall, chained to a rock by Zeus, and his liver pecked at daily by a vulture. Self has all the fun you’d expect with this, and the result is satire so vicious it makes Charlie Brooker look restrained.- More reviews
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1 comment
I recently caught up with Will Self at a reading/book signing event at Clapham Books. This is the first time I have met the man face to face and was impressed not just by his ability to entertain an audience but by the genuine passion he has for his own writing and artistic integrity. It was great to talk to him after the event as he is extremely personable and open to intelligent discussion of his work.
Interestingly given the comments in the review Will selected the first part of 'Leberknödel' to read, only stopping with the ominous line from Dr Hohl 'I must tell you if you drink this you will die.' I have to admit I had a lump in my throat. I disagree with the reviewer that the second half dragged a bit and he did not know when to end as this was just a change of pace. There is a tendency these days to wrap things up too quickly rather than savour the experience.
He also selected a reading from 'Foie Humain' with some wonderfully vibrant descriptions of an addled performance of Beckett’s ‘Endgame’ complete with suitably pissed characters on stage and the regulars from the club in the audience.
The use of the C-word was definitely in evidence and in discussion of this Will explained that he had had a mixed reception when reading from the book in the provinces 'I think that some of the lady's present might have been offended by that word you just used'. Personally I am fascinated by the power of a single word. He apparently asked the audience if they were offended and got a resounding 'no'. Will was therefore pleased to be back in the warm openness and acceptance of London where more or less anything goes. He mentioned he had in fact been to the Plantation Club as a young man and had certainly had his eyes opened wide by the experience. He is not alone in getting misty eyed about Soho of bye gone years.
Will used the analogy of his books being like his children who he hoped would leave home for University with their electric kettle and he hoped that they would not end up as 'Crack Whores'. This book is not a Crack Whore by any means and will in due course be seen as a groundbreaking classic.
I admit I was an admirer of Will Self before I read this book but he really has come up with a cracker. I have said it before and i will say it again that Will Self is one of the best writers currently working in the UK and in my view he is getting better with every book he writes.
All 'grits to the mill' so back to the grindstone Will!
http://daraho.wordpress.com/2008/10/24/changing-mind s-david-raho-meets-will-self/