As I wrote in my foreword to this great collection of stories:
‘In the era of the bland generation UV Ray’s writing bears all the flavour of a gourmet meal at the heart of the Renaissance. While formula and conformity to the tired tropes of storytelling rule the day, UV Ray writes with fire and heart. The public palate for the prosaic ignores the extremes of literary history. Without the likes of Artaud or Swift reading falls to the common denominator of self-gratification. ‘
I recommend that you buy this book, a major conflagration in the modern era of blandness.
UV met me at The Slaughterhouse where we talked about glass and the nature of equality.
How fragile is glass?
What’s plaguing me at the moment is that I have no idea how it’s all going to end. My life, I mean. And ultimately what it all means, what it’s all for. Everything seems so meaningless. I don’t like the idea that this aspect of my own life is completely out of my hands. All any of us know is that at some point our life will end. And the passing of the flesh will be forever.
Therein lies our beauty. We are as transitory as a cloud and once we are gone, evaporated, no one will ever see our exact likeness again.
But beauty is both predatory and fragile. That is the essence of We Are Glass. There are all these people; it doesn’t matter whether they are strong or weak. We are all finally and ultimately doomed. Over time we become frail and life beats us all down in the end. We have form and apparent rigidity but we are so easily shattered, despite any illusions.
If death is the equaliser what does it reveal about the nature of equality?
Equality is a myth. The idea is merely a balm to soothe us. Even death isn’t the equaliser. We all eventually turn to dust but some people leave a legacy and others are simply forgotten. without getting into the rudiments of the issue I think too many people think equality is a right. It’s a nice idea but the world doesn’t work that way; I am afraid it’s in the lion’s nature to prey on the lamb. The nature of man is not so far removed, like I just said a moment ago, we are both predatory and fragile. Of course, what fucks it all up is the fact that we’ve allowed religions and politics to stick its beak into the equation. I can’t say anymore on this issue because it makes my piss boil.
W.B.Yeats wrote in The Second Coming
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity
Do you think we live in a passionless age?
Well, he was a bit arty-farty fuckface wasn’t he? And I mean the last thing we want is to be too arty-farty fuckface about these things. Muhammad Ali certainly didn’t lack any conviction. So that pisses all over Yeats’ bonfire. Some people talk the talk – but they can also very much walk the walk.
What we lack currently is a healthy dose of rebellion. I suppose it could be considered the same thing. Without rebels there is no movement. Whether it’s rebellion against government or something such as the literary status quo, the literary establishment, without insurrection there is only stagnation. Currently the literary scene is like a stagnant pond; there are a lot of scum-sucking bottom-feeders. But somehow, far too many of these scum-sucking bottom-feeders have floated above their station in life and are clamouring together on the surface. It’s forming a stagnant skin and the water no longer flows. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; this isn’t a difficult situation to resolve. A good punch up the knickers would soon sort many of the fuckers out. At the moment they’re looking at me and wondering, ‘who is this young kid? Good-looking boy – but can he write?”
And the answer, of course, is you bet your ass he can! And We Are Glass is about to become that much needed good, hard punch up the knickers. With the publication of this book, Murder Slim Press have put the cat very much amongst the pigeons.
Give us your most dangerous move.
Trying to walk to the toilet after eight pints of lager and half a bottle of whisky.