Stuart Kelly

Will Self’s memoir of drug addiction is a masterpiece of black humour

His descriptions of Oxford are a kind of inverse Brideshead Revisited, with more opiates than teddy bears. But it’s a profoundly serious and moving book too

issue 07 December 2019

Well, it was always going to be called Will. More than once in this terrifying, terrific book, Will Self refers to ‘nominative determinism’ — the idea that a name somehow foretells a life. That he chooses Will, not Self, is indicative and ambiguous. This memoir — not an autobiography — starts in May and ends in August 1986, but also spirals back to 1979, 1982 and 1984 in the kind of chronological fracturing that has typified his later fictions.

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