In its peculiar way—and its way is endlessly peculiar—Ray is a novel of the South….
[Barry Hannah's world] has the lyricism and silliness-with-a-straight-face of a Steinberg cartoon. Despite the background of violence and disorder—the sirens and the asylum are near—its immediate subject is quaintly untroubled, just as Steinberg's multicolored, melodramatic smears of mauve and blue and red coexist with simpler line-drawing….
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