THE AUTHOR
In the year or so I have been in contact with U.V. Ray, there hasn't been a single piece of work he has written that has allowed me to carry on my day at the end of it unhindered.
Now on his third major publication with Murder Slim Press, the upcoming novella The Migrant, U.V. Ray has effectively been attacking the literary scene with his gut rending prose. I myself have described his work as "a masochistic pleasure", and have not been the first to warn that his work is not for the feint of heart.
When writing this article, and trying to get a grasp on exactly how to typify his work, I hit a brick wall. It's romance, horror, and post modern literature, but it would be grossly unfair to describe it as any one of those, or for that matter, as a mixture of any of them. I have an easier time thinking of films as a point of comparison; Taxi Driver and Blue Velvet and Requiem for a Dream come to mind, but really, there is no point in trying to pidgeonhole this man and his work.
It's good. Very good.
From the junkie adventures of the protagonist Karzoso in his most recent work Spiral Out, to the weathered Rag and Bone Man from his short story compilation We Are Glass, U.V. writes about misfits and outcasts, but most importantly, about people. He has a knack for jumping in through the proverbial windows of his characters lives like an uninvited burglar, taking a quick Polaroid snapshot, and escaping just before the read has a chance to really know who they are. It's Slice of Life for a generation of degenerates and the misunderstood, but as I will attempt to explain in my review of We Are Glass, there is always a fleeting moment of joy to be found, floating just out of reach.
It's this singular thread of what I'd dare to call "hope" that allows the reader to persist through the rushing waters of a nihilistic philosophy that permeates every word of his narratives. It's not easy to forget that U.V. Ray is also a fantastic poet who published a compilation called Road Trip and Other Poems before his professional foray into fiction. Every line of his works is carefully crafted and oozing with quality.
We Are Glass is no exception, and is in my opinion, a fitting and worthy introduction to the works of U.V. Ray.
That is, it's a little like getting let into a nightclub and immediately having the bouncer inside break your face and gut punch you.
Now on his third major publication with Murder Slim Press, the upcoming novella The Migrant, U.V. Ray has effectively been attacking the literary scene with his gut rending prose. I myself have described his work as "a masochistic pleasure", and have not been the first to warn that his work is not for the feint of heart.
When writing this article, and trying to get a grasp on exactly how to typify his work, I hit a brick wall. It's romance, horror, and post modern literature, but it would be grossly unfair to describe it as any one of those, or for that matter, as a mixture of any of them. I have an easier time thinking of films as a point of comparison; Taxi Driver and Blue Velvet and Requiem for a Dream come to mind, but really, there is no point in trying to pidgeonhole this man and his work.
It's good. Very good.
From the junkie adventures of the protagonist Karzoso in his most recent work Spiral Out, to the weathered Rag and Bone Man from his short story compilation We Are Glass, U.V. writes about misfits and outcasts, but most importantly, about people. He has a knack for jumping in through the proverbial windows of his characters lives like an uninvited burglar, taking a quick Polaroid snapshot, and escaping just before the read has a chance to really know who they are. It's Slice of Life for a generation of degenerates and the misunderstood, but as I will attempt to explain in my review of We Are Glass, there is always a fleeting moment of joy to be found, floating just out of reach.
It's this singular thread of what I'd dare to call "hope" that allows the reader to persist through the rushing waters of a nihilistic philosophy that permeates every word of his narratives. It's not easy to forget that U.V. Ray is also a fantastic poet who published a compilation called Road Trip and Other Poems before his professional foray into fiction. Every line of his works is carefully crafted and oozing with quality.
We Are Glass is no exception, and is in my opinion, a fitting and worthy introduction to the works of U.V. Ray.
That is, it's a little like getting let into a nightclub and immediately having the bouncer inside break your face and gut punch you.
THE REVIEW
We Are Glass brought me to tears.
U.V. Ray writes for the soul. He doesn't empower, invigorate, or inspire. And despite the sometimes debilitating content of his rich, blunt prose, he is successful in avoiding the trap of needless melodrama. I have read all of his works I've been able to get my hands on, and the biggest compliment I can offer is that I never felt patronized. Never felt like I was being pitched to, sold a product, with each line manufactured to capture my attention and keep me reading; the most common advice given to the novice would-be author.
Frankly, I don't think U.V. gives a fuck if you are with him or not. His writing is consistent in the philosophical framework upon which it is built, and though it would be easy to peg the themes inherent in his work as nihilistic, I think there is a subtle but important difference to be discovered within the many shorts of We Are Glass that distinguishes U.V. from anyone else writing today.
We Are Glass as mentioned is comprised of multiple short stories connected only by the general tone U.V. is known for. They deal with a variety of subjects; death, sex, drugs, urban decay. Much like the title implicates, the stories revolve around the delicate and fleeting lives of outcasts lost in the fury of existence, a glimpse through an unstable window that lasts exactly as long as it needs to in each of the pieces without meandering, and often, without finding a structured, narrative resolution.
The free flowing, semi-stream of consciousness writing here is reflective of what U.V. is best at; writing about people. And like our every day lives, which are full of broken ends and missing pieces and a collage of seemingly meaningless threads hanging and connecting to nothing, We Are Glass stays true and refuses to yield to traditional expectations. Within the drear of gloom and non-existence, we see brief moments of beauty and those fleeting moments where life, for a moment, seems to have meaning. And like meat dangled above the nose of a hungry bitch, it is quickly pulled away again, leaving the reader in stasis, only to repeat itself.
There is a repetition in the book that feels intentional. Although every story manages to establish and differentiate itself in subtle ways from the ones that came before it, the consistency of Ray's writing shines through. And this is where the connecting threads between the works here can be found. Just as We Are Glass offers us a slice of life in the underbelly of a declining urban nightmare, when read as a single piece it can be interpreted as a cyclic work. Like our lives, each day varies slightly from the next, but most of us have a consistent holding pattern of general routine, the daily grind, that we adhere too. In this case, the daily grind takes place in bars and streets, and the 9-5 is defined by the next drink, visit to a cruising outhouse or hospital bed, with a spark of titillation or excitement peppered sparingly in between keep us going.
We Are Glass is no stranger to humor, though there are no jokes to be found. This is the involuntary laugh at a funeral, the inappropriate giggle at the scene of a crime. The sharp and biting dialogue, which captures a wide range of personalities throughout flows in a realistic and familiar manner. And although dialogue too is sparse, as it must be to maintain the pummeling narrative, the odd moments where it strikes are used effectively. I found myself chuckle several times throughout the course of the book.
And as I said at the beginning of this review, it eventually brought me to tears. Not because of cheap, purposeful heart string pulling, and not because it broke my spirits. When laid on the backdrop of a meaningless existence, the moments of jubilation we experience, of genuine joy, so few and far between in the daily slog of our lives boil quickly but fiercely like a dying star; and We Are Glass, whether intentional or not, illuminates these moments better than anything else I have ever read. In the midst of loneliness and suffering, the odd embrace, awkward laugh, or dried lip kiss seem oddly worth the struggle.
This is the elusive needle tip U.V. has managed to pinpoint and capture, and the thing that prevents We Are Glass from being a mere drop into the maw of oblivion. No matter how bad, drug addled, and bleak things seem to get, there seems to be at least one moment of solace in each of the stories to justify the doom of it all. There is a single thread of poetic beauty that loops its way through the smog ruined skylines and piss drenched hotel rooms of We Are Glass, and like a child reaching up to grasp the moon, we are given short lived opportunities to touch it before being violently thrown back into the muck.
The biggest problem with the work of U.V. Ray is that after immersing myself in it several times, everything else seems like pandering, mechanical drivel. And despite the truly heartbreaking content of this compilation, that is the most depressing element of We Are Glass; not the work itself, but that it is such a rare explosion of writing mastery and genuinely unique and witty prose that it is difficult to comprehend anything comparable.
CONCLUSION
It's difficult not to gush overly about U.V. I asked him to be part of A Macabre Cabal before anyone else quite simply because he is my favorite current writer. There is rare little else I have read that has hit me so hard as his work, and the unique qualities he exudes in his writing, a good portion of which is based on his own personal experiences are difficult to compete with. The biggest tragedy of U.V. is that there are few who will be able to truly appreciate what it is he does. And only a fraction of those will actually find his work in the black morass of mediocrity that has polluted the writing market today.
Because U.V. Ray is a true outsider. And the irony is that as an outsider, his work will likely remain where it belongs; on the outside.
But what truly magnificent work it is. A real treat for those lucky enough to discover it.
For more information about U.V. and his works, you can visit Murder Slim Press where his books can be purchased, or the Official U.V. Ray Website. Amazon also carries We Are Glass.
I have also written a review for Spiral Out, which is on sale here.