John Wray

At the epicenter of revolt—John Wray was born in 1971 in Washington, D.C.—dislocated from the undertows of his Austrian inheritance. A heretic in the gallant sense—Wray wades chillingly in the bloodstream of leading American authors—who perpetually try to defuse the endless perfusion of unappealing ideas.

“The teachings of Descartes are well and good for the old country—: but here they don’t churn the butter. This nation was founded on belief—credulity pure and simple—without a sympathy for it, a talent for it—you’ll never make your penny.”

Freethinking with ideas—some would describe John Wray a quick-change artist—for his constant forays into new obsessions for each successive fiction: The Right Hand of Sleep—set in the blood meridian of war-torn Austria, Canaan’s Tongue—pure Southern gothic sawn with merciless schemes—“a wild, wicked music”—amidst the slave trade of the American Civil War, and Lowboy—“a lip-biting thriller—a psychotic, subterranean, environmentally conscious love letter”—written while riding the New York subway.

“Lowboy ran to catch a train. People were in his way—but he was careful not to touch them. He ran up the platform’s corrugated yellow lip and kept his eyes on the train’s cab—commanding it to wait. The doors had closed already—but they opened when he kicked them. He couldn’t help but take that as a sign.”

John Way lives in Brooklyn, New York.