Synopsis
In the honorable tradition of the eccentric dandyism of Lord Byron, Oscar Wilde, and Quentin Crisp comes Sebastian Horsley's disarming memoir of sex, drugs, and Savile Row.
Publishers Weekly
British artist Horsley's biggest claim to fame is the crucifixion ceremony he underwent in the Philippines in 2000, an attempt to "break the limits of life" and make an artistic statement. The feat is the apex of Horsley's "unauthorized autobiography," which chronicles his life as an artist, a junkie and a self-professed dandy. Pithy and engaging, Horsley bares all, painting himself as a misogynist, a sexual deviant and a narcissist. While the memoir starts slow-drawn out accounts of childhood travails, tawdry family history and boarding-school miseries-Horsley's writing picks up when he's describing his cyclical addiction to and withdrawal from drugs. A crack high is a "whole-body orgasm" and "heartbreaking ecstasy"; heroin is "molten sunshine." By the time he is on a raft in the Philippines, paddling to the site of his crucifixion, he's been in and out of exclusive rehab clinics and self-imposed bouts of "cold turkey time," not to mention a stint as a prostitute. By the time a 50-something Horsley winds down his life history-wealthy and privileged from birth (his family owned a food empire), he was also uncannily successful in the stock market-he is nearly bankrupt. He ran through, by his own estimation, £100,000 on his drug addictions and the same amount of money each on his other addiction, prostitutes, and tailored clothing befitting his stature as a dandy. (Mar. 11)