(Published by Bloomsbury)
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With an unerring eye for the tragic absurdity of the human condition, Self parades an array of mentally unhinged characters past the reader. Leaving us always with the knowledge that the brink of insanity is not that far from what passes for normality.
Whether following a young man on the run from certain violent reprisal, documenting the decent into delusion of an overworked doctor or detailing the isolation of the mentally disturbed, Self probes the inner recesses of human psyche and emerges with the kind of evidence others might prefer to cover up.
In Dr Mukti, he creates deadly conflict to give meaning to achingly unfulfilled lives. The Five Swing Walk reads like watching one of those savagely gory anti drink-driving adverts on television. As the narrative speeds from ghastly opening to horrific ending this tale is the most Self-indulgent (excuse the pun!) of the lot, only succeeding in dragging the reader into a world they would rather not enter and leaving them to emerge numbly reeling from the experience.
Like a kid removing a scab, Self finger-points emotions and patterns of behaviour that ring unpleasantly true. Are we delusional or just deluding ourselves? When confronted by the absurdity of the modern world is the only appropriate response escape through madness?
In 161, he takes a more empathetic scalpel to human needs and failings and produces a story that rings truer than the rest. There are valuable insights to be had elsewhere but in order to uncover them, readers must be willing to pick their way through Self’s world: it’s a place where the grass is always shitty, the flights of fancy tawdry and the lives more hollow than you can imagine. 
