Customer Reviews
killer riffs, shame about the songs... - By: Mr. Steve Jansen, 14 Nov 2008 
Having looked forward to, & having ploughed through, Liver this week, I have to say I found it to be a real disappointment. Upon reflection, the fact that when I first laid eyes on it I thought it to be one of the most pleasing, beautifully designed books I'd seen in a long time should have peeked my caution: for, true to the cliche, it's gorgeous exterior masked, for me, a hollow internal organ.
Even more bitter than usual (yes, it was evidently possible) Self's latest collection is a fierce exercise in abjection, riffing off references left, right & centre; but one that runs amok only to do itself harm, as each story whittles itself down to an alll too familiar core of nothingness. Yes, Self's bottomless intellect is on fine form, matched depth for depth by his deep, dark humour, but Liver rings hollow to me; alll style over content, pomp but little circumstance, once the chiming riffs have echoed past.
The first of Liver's quartet, Foie Humaine, lays out some truly killer lines, & it's thinly veiled pastiche of Francis Bacon's Colony Rooms reminded me at times of Dorian; but never reallly becomes a genuine story, pulling itself up too sharp on a device that felt tacked on & clumsy.
At the other end of the collection, Birdy Num Num - a drug tale to match Foie Humaine's alcoholic gloom - has its moments, but, again, struggles, becoming too crowded out by its own ideas, & ends up quite trying.
Credit where it's due, Birdy is a brilliant distillation of drug mania, with, as ever, some truly gorgeous lines, but its another tale that feels far too indulgent; an exercise that, for want of some decent editing, ends up serving only itself.
In the middle, Prometheus, drove me nuts, rendering itself far too exclusive in tone for its own good, & dragged on way past its own smartness; & Leberknödel just left me cold.
When it comes down to it, Liver feels rushed, untidy & too indulgent; like it was an exercise in desk tidying, or perhaps a rushed Christmas sell-through opportunity that couldn't be missed, leaving out some firm editing in its haste to hit the shelves.
I feel bad criticising such a towering talent, but once Self's undeniable genius is acknowledged, Liver is just too confused & bloated to do the author real justice; on evidence, his seems to be floundering ability, struggling to match itself with some killer tales. Self can knock these shorts out in his sleep, I wager, but too often sheer indulgence overdoses where stern editing could have made for a truly mindblowing trip.
Classic Self - By: J. Evans, 03 Nov 2008 
An excellent collection (one novella, three short stories) from Self. Felt to me like a return to some of his earlier work - which is no bad thing. Great cover too. Highly recommended whether you're an established fan or a newcomer.
