We are living through an epidemic of narcissism, or so we are told. Technology has made us self-obsessed, and this tendency may well be the death of us. But is our self-concern not warranted? Rather than an excess of vanity, what if we regard ourselves so frequently and with such intensity because we do not know who we are or what we are becoming? By returning to the original myth of Narcissus, and the flower from which he takes his name, this book presents an alternative reading of narcissism and the selfie, arguing against a moralising subgenre of cultural criticism that suggests our self-obsession will be our downfall.

That may be so. But what if the selfie was not a symbol of stasis but an expression of a desire for transformation? And what might we become after we have rid ourselves of the cloistered self-images forced upon us by contemporary capitalism? Beginning in the Renaissance with Albrecht Dürer, travelling via Rembrandt and Caravaggio to photographers and celebrities like Lee Friedlander and Hervé Guibert, Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, Narcissus in Bloom explores the rise of the self-portrait through cultures high and low, arguing that it is a sense of subjective indeterminacy that has disturbed us for centuries.

This is a fascinating, impeccably researched exploration and analysis of ego, vanity, and perception - particularly that of the self and the development and evolution of these notions over the centuries. With many examples and vignettes from all manner of epochs, the author successfully builds an endlessly compelling picture of how our enduring love affair with ourselves and our own image has changed, evolved and amplified over time as well as discussing this through the prism of narcissism; it remains thoroughly engaging and well-written throughout. Highly recommended.

Narcissus in Bloom is a difficult book to summarise. The subtitle, 'An alternative history of the selfie', does not really do justice to the breadth of its interests, which range from Durer's self-portraits and the early history of photography to Ranciere on the spectator and Derek Jarman's garden. It's quite heavily theorised but wears its learning quite lightly, engaging rather than unsettling the reader by focusing throughout on the development of narcissism (viewed broadly) and how we represent the self. At times the writing style slips a little - I'm not sure we need to be told that Durer's Melancolia I is "one of the missed discussed works of art ever made" and I counted five uses of the word "seminal" - but overall this is a fascinating and well-judged book.

From the Italian masters to selfie culture, this book charts the history of the self-portrait; exploring our relationship with ourselves and how we represent our image to the world.