[While] "Ray" is the funniest, weirdest, soul-happiest work of fiction by a genuinely young American author that I've read in a long while, ordinary reviewerese is no help in explaining why. You need a fresh lingo to do justice to this much magic, mystery and hilarity. You need new strategies, new arguments, new adjectives, new everything….

Plot-wise "Ray" is not one of your page-turners. But in its course at least one accident occurs—Ray steals a Learjet downed by Pfeifer Wire, flies it to Canada, crashes it and survives—and also a tragedy…. Equally worth mention is that the book ends with affirmation. On the final page Ray himself is still kicking, ablaze with desire, hope, delight not only in his surviving friends and children, but also in the glory of the Southern Past….

Among many pleasures afforded by "Ray" I would single out the descriptions of objects...