Will Self

Celebrated author of novels, short stories and non-fiction, Will Self contributes to many publications and regularly appears on radio and television. Fifty of his PsychoGeograpghy columns from The Independent have recently been collected in a new publication featuring art by Ralph Steadman.

Will Self: PsychoGeography

Personally, I'm sad to see her go, but I'm astounded by how little public attention the departure of our reigning monarch from these shores has received. Perhaps it's something to do with the credit crunch and rising interest rates? So geared to the prayer wheel of the property market has the British collective psyche become that if the market stalls we can think of little else, and when house prices start falling you can chop the arms off the average homeowner, while he or she contemplates your bloody hatchet with Buddhist detachment, only muttering, "But they said buy-to-let would be a sure-fire investment..."

Recently by Will Self

Will Self: PsychoGeography

Saturday, 7 June 2008

A disturbing tale comes from Ralph in New York. I'm not sure we're going to be able to let him out on his own in future. Apparently in an antic state, he decided to take a party of friends over from Manhattan to Staten Island on the ferry. Being Ralph – and committed to the transgression of all norms – he wanted his party to dodge the ferry fare, assuming that since his first trip stateside, in 1970, it would've risen five-hundredfold, from a nickel to $25. Much to his chagrin, the ferry was entirely free, having been subsidised in a vote-grabbing move aimed at improving the Islanders' self-esteem.

Will Self: homebound

Saturday, 7 June 2008

I got home the other evening after two weeks away in the US. Even as I stepped from the door of the aircraft on to the gantry I felt as if I was home: the grey frayed carpeting, the crap-flat lighting, the odour of Heathrow Airport – the busiest in Europe – was at once chilly and cloacal, suggesting the presence of many thousands of (albeit invisible) bodies. It doesn't sound too good this, does it?

Will Self: PsychoGeography

Saturday, 31 May 2008

I knew it was going to be a great day out when I got to Halesworth Station; for a start, the sun was shining, and I like that. I'm not one of those brooding types who goes in for the pathetic fallacy of saying, "Ooh, I love cold, rainy weather", as if this somehow confirms the dank seriousness of their own inner life. No, give me May sunshine, and a trip to a small Suffolk terminus with a museum in the old ticket office, and I'm as happy as a sandy beach boy. And what a museum! Complete with Iron Age artefacts, and a lady at a desk who looked at me suspiciously when I asked her where the public toilets were, presumably because she herself hadn't had a bodily function since the coronation.

Will Self: PsychoGeography

Saturday, 24 May 2008

To paraphrase Oscar: "Some people come to resemble their pets, that is their tragedy; some people don't come to resemble their pets, that is theirs." I think in this context of the German woman I have met twice now walking her Leonbergers down the road near Clapham Junction where the boys and I wait to get the bus on the way back from school. The woman is frowsty with a leonine head of pink, dyed hair, thick round the middle – she's only 5ft 2in, or thereabouts, and must weigh getting on for 10 stone – and as for the dogs... well, they're not called Leonbergers for nothing. This is the nearest thing you get to lion that's still canine. Their dotty owner – who snapped "Leonberger!" at me, when I asked what breed they were (as if it were entirely obvious) – must have to go out with a shovel to pick up their dung.

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