Scarp

Nick is an inspirational figure and a significant spectre. It replenishes my sense of London to know he is out there, somewhere on the western fringes, walking, prospecting, making his reports. He is the prophet of deep-topography, a post-academic discipline, learned on the hoof. You may not be aware of him, but the culture will shrivel when he is not around. - IAIN SINCLAIR, author of Hackney, that Rose-Red Empire and London Orbital

He sees magic in everything. He’s like a mystic or an alchemist, hoovering up the magic of stone and brick and concrete. He’s also got an incredible language at his disposal, remarkable ideas and a deep sense of lucid confusion. - RUSSELL BRAND

In an era when the search for authenticity has become de trop, Nick Papadimitriou is a startling personification: a superb nature writer, a poet, the originator and preeminent practitioner of the discipline he has dubbed ‘deep topography’. From the council flat in Child’s Hill, North London, where he has lived for over a quarter century, he sets out on journeys through the urban space that have the velocity and the daring exploratory feel of interstellar voyaging. I urge you to read the results: they are haunting, strange, lyrical, poignant - a testimony to a life that is triumphantly less ordinary. - WILL SELF

The most vital document about London in years … brilliantly imagined … it’s compelling singularity and off-message cultural engagement are things we should be profoundly thankful for. - Time Out *****

‘Nick Papadimitriou veers closer to the topographical delirium of Iain Sinclair or JG Ballard in Scarp: a ramble through his home suburbs of north London that spreads a visionary gleam over the mysterious backwaters of the Northern Line’. - Independent Books of the Year

Very engaging.Years of study and dreaming in the spare bedroom of his flat have given birth to a series of fantastic journeys … - Observer

What a strange and wonderful work it is… A series of walks across Scarp, loosely stretching from Harefield in the south-west to Hertford in the north-east, forms the main thread of the book. Nick is the perpetual outsider. He’s the scruffy-looking drifter staring over your garden fence, or sleeping rough on a golf course. He’s the arsonist who twice set fire to his school, and did time for burning down his neighbour’s house. Yet he writes like an angel, avoiding the abstruse prose often found in “psychogeographic” writing. -