This is a story that couldn't be told in any other format. It isn't just that the experience wouldn't have as much depth as a screen play or a comic, nor is it that it needs to be a novel to convey that depth; it is that the language itself, from the vernacular to the sentence structure to the very spelling (or lack there of) is unthinkable in mainstream literature or even small press for that matter. This book is a perfect example of how literature IS art and that self-publishing is not the waste dump publishers want you to believe it to be but the venue for what can be Hakim Bey's ideal of poetry as terrorism.
I don't know if Baker is even aware of the genre Bizarro but he has written one of the best examples of all that it could and should be. It's so weird it's undefinable but so charming it is universally relatable; you may not know what it's like to kick as much shit as Mawdsley does but you know what its like when all your nouns and adjectives end in "cunt"