TONY BLACK

 

      U.V. Ray, or as he's known around these parts, The Brummie Bukowski, hasn't taken part in an interview for a decade. The rare and original writer has much to say, most of it about his new book, A Cigarette Burn in the Sun which, going on the reviews alone, looks to be his most popular work so far. It's a bleak piece, both terse and terrific, and recounts a period in time which deserves more attention. I identified a lot of truth in the book, recognised the fact and the fiction, but wanted to know what the author thought. So, here we are, a rare insight into the working life and practices of a truly talented practitioner of the writer's craft.  TONY BLACK:  I believe the book's based on a real-life incident, is that right? U. V. RAY:  Fictionalised reality, yes. We used to go to this club in Brum called Snobs and they had this indie night called Loaded. Me and my drinking pal Paul came rolling outta there about two-thirty in the morning and I think we migh

  An interview about THE LOCK-IN (yes, we know that's LAST ORDERS, author copies sold out) with the youngest reporter at Boswell Book Festival.

  The story behind today's Throwback Thursday picture deserves an article in itself, but that'll have to keep for another day.  I was asked by the BBC to help out with a slot for The One Show, which was being presented by Gyles Brandreth. It was a crime piece and involved an Edinburgh police officer in a series of unfortunate events. The producer sent along a DVD of the slot at the time and if it ever surfaces from the cupboard under the stairs, where the DVDs now reside, I'll post it.

 REVIEW: a cigarette burn in the sun by u.v. ray 



 I like the cut of u.v. ray’s jib I like short books, novellas, novelettes I like The Legend of the Holy Drinker I like The Old Man and the Sea Writers who write what they know Like Joyce’s Dubliners Welsh’s schemies Bukowski’s Tales of Ordinary Madness Because it’s definitely everywhere Especially these days, like a cigarette burn in the sun by u.v. ray Set in Birmingham, 1986 Amidst alkies, junkies Those on the outside of the outside The last thin rim Where you’d need wings to balance Like Angel T. Cooley Hero without a halo But a Pentax and a plan That’s not the same as a plot If Joyce made Waugh spit fire ray might bring the brimstone Don’t look for an arc A turn or a twist There’s no nods to the gods Or head girls and editors In London or the Guardian Instead there’s a black moment On every page A horror upon horror To publish and be damned Well done u.v. ray You’re the Brummie Bukowski A star in the making But already burnt out