Not to be filed under history, photography, design or nonfiction, as it contains outright lies and outrageous subjective opinion, this book is definitely about street art. It is also about now. Fungus grows on your collected wild-style pioneers. Vile passions rage between old schools and new. Shit flies out from under the hammer at auction houses and property developers fund street art shows to liberal press fanfare. Oh, and Banksy hits the West Bank. Is anyone taking this stuff seriously? Should it be taken seriously? Is it all just an immense daisy chain of poker faces, irony and mind games?