Blood Fire Vapor Smoke
A cycle akin to the seasons of a life, Blood Fire Vapor Smoke asks questions of the ancient struggle between life and death amidst landscapes new and old. Does ultimate forgiveness answer to ultimate violence in the world? What is the nature of grace? Who determines the fates that move us? A collection of stories opening upon the inner world with the abandon and gravity involved in personal and collective responsibility, the book responds to the present age of enragement, and the collapsing binary of two hungers: violence and forgiveness. Blood Fire Vapor Smoke considers the human myth of regeneration through violence, and the aftermath of loneliness, love, and yearning found in a more merciful expression of human existence. Violence is caught by love, and changed, transcended, and transformed into a yearning for restoration, atonement, and the fusion embodied in the true power of community, humility, and greater humanity. The characters in each of the four sections of this collection of stories and one long poem, pass through thresholds of knowledge and responsibility. Asking not what life owes them, but what they may receive from life, and in the end, just how they are responsible for life, those who people this collection cross into unforeseen places of mystery, mercy, and grace.
In Blood Fire Vapor Smoke, beyond our inevitable compulsions toward violent ends, healing calls, beckoning us toward a crossroads where we turn and face one another, finding the beauty and strength to serve and love one another again.
Praise from Authors and Booksellers
“The beauty of the language, the collection’s historical range, and Ray’s reach for—sometimes prayer for—mercy and compassion in the face of horrific violence, his insistence on the solace of beauty, make this a brave and worthy book of stories. It feels restless, not just because it moves among different physical settings, but because it moves from what can read as historical fiction to an intimate and contemporary mode, and because Ray works to see a driving masculinity prismatically. This restlessness, the unwillingness to conceive of a singular answer to the question of what nourishes the appetite for violence—in the kitchen, in theatres of war, in alleyways in ravaged cities—across the centuries and across continents, is true and inventive. The collection feels like a genuine inquiry in which salvation and damnation, wickedness and blessedness merge—a hard book to write, hard-won, and risky.”
– from the foreword by Noy Holland, author of Bird
“In his story collection BLOOD FIRE VAPOR SMOKE, Shann Ray once again proves he is a master at depicting the darkness and light that reside in every human soul. These stories range across time and place, exploring the generational violence that is passed down from grandfather to father to son in a never-ending cycle of violence and revenge. We are dropped in the middle of the killing fields of the Sand Creek Massacre, the bombed-out lands of a war-torn African nation, and the broken homes of families shattered by betrayal and hardened hearts. The overarching question Ray asks is how, among the rubble of human cruelty and violence, do we find the hope and strength to go on? How do we forgive the unforgivable? Is it possible to love someone who gouged out your last good eye? Someone who killed your son? Someone who killed all your people? These stories are relentless in not looking away from the horrors of humanity. There are no easy answers here, but in the bleak theater of blood and despair, we see glimmers of hope in the beauty of blue sky over a battlefield, in the flight of a flamingo rising from the devastated land, in the tender touch of those we thought we hated. Ultimately, Ray suggests redemption is found in forgiveness and love, and perhaps we would never be able to see the light if we had never known the darkness. These stories will burn you, but you will come out renewed.”
– Elise Atchison, contributing author of Unearthing Paradise
“Author Shann Ray moves from brutality to beauty in his latest work. In his new book, Blood Fire Vapor Smoke, he takes readers into the depths of human depravity with vivid, brutal scenes from the genocide otherwise known as the Native American wars. The book is a collection of short stories — fiction, but the battle scenes and other grim settings are based on history’s brutal facts.
The stories range from Indian battlefields to Gaddafi in his last days; from a dispirited diplomat in a war-torn country in Africa to two men living on the fringes of life in Spokane. Ray writes across time and landscapes with insight and occasional tenderness, as in a story of a boy who “loved basketball like he loved family.”
Read these stories for their power and their beauty. Ray is also a poet and brings a poet’s sensitivity and language to descriptions of landscapes and, in more intimate details, to human relationships. Here’s a passage after a battle: “A lantern moon, full and dirty, hung low in the early dark and touched the land with opaque light. Over the battlefield, winds sent a flock of black swifts swerving.” Writing like this gives the reader a restful moment after the ugliness of killing and taking body parts.
Readers who pore over book jackets will also know that Ray is a clinical psychologist who specializes in the psychology of men. No surprise then, that men are front and center in these stories, often in relation to strong women. The two men in Spokane, Ray writes, were “growing progressively more ugly, fulfilling want by whatever means necessary.” Both emerged years later, “broken and better,” salvaged by a rebirth of love.
In the story of an American diplomat, an African boy, perhaps 18, is the object of the diplomat’s obsession. He sees the boy and does not forget him as time passes and the country becomes more dangerous; Americans are evacuated, but the diplomat stays, looking, remembering “the collar bones, the eyes, the voice.” Here again Ray weaves fact with fiction. This chapter is straight out of the headlines as the diplomat follows news of “white-sponsored terror” in the U.S. and reckons with events like the killings at the Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston, S.C. The diplomat recalls his reading of Carl Jung and his knowledge of the U.S. Cavalry who massacred the Cheyenne. Ray has something important to say here about men, honor, love, and human despair.
Ray is a versatile writer, delving into a deeply personal drama in a foreign setting and returning home to Montana, to write about the intimacy of love and marriage. A man of the rugged landscape marries a ballerina and experiences mutual love for the first time. It’s a story of the heartbreak of infidelity, complex emotions and healing. Literature is full of similar stories. What’s special here is the precision of the writing, the pain on the page. “Before her, he’d loved women, but they had not loved him… he’d always walked with his head bowed, his massive shoulders bent inward as if to protect and shield his heart.”
Finally, with Everett, the boy who loves basketball, Ray treats the reader to a story with a lighter touch. Though Everett Highwalker’s young life is filled with dreams and disappointments, VP (the vice principal) looks after him and nurtures his basketball dreams. A sweet story about the power of a mentor in a boy’s life.
An important motif throughout this collection that features men in central roles is the respect accorded women — especially in the Native tribes portrayed here. Ray quotes a Cheyenne proverb: “A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground.” The book cover provides a clue with this note about Ray: “Because of his wife and three daughters, he believes in love.”
Ray demonstrates that belief in a book of poetry, Sweetclover, also published this year. It is dedicated to his wife and can be read as a series of love poems to her, about her, about his love for her. It is wild and earthy, sensual and spiritual. He pays homage to married love in all its dimensions. For readers attuned to the luscious landscapes of our region, find further delight with acts of love amid the mountains, rivers, prairies, flowers and boundless skies.
Sweetclover is a welcome endnote to the intense and often dark Blood Fire Vapor Smoke.
– Mindy Cameron, The Pacific Northwest Inlander
Shann Ray’s work is both grounded and spiritual. He has an eye for minute detail, and while he’s describing an act of love or violence or just panning through a scene to render river and mountain range, he’s also trying to understand how we respond to the often generational brutality of existence without forgetting its beauty. How is it that a single life can hold so many disparate things — love, hatred, trauma, healing, destruction, forgiveness, redemption — without tearing apart? In Blood Fire Vapor Smoke people are often in conflict with nature, but never separate from it. Love is a salve for violence, but also sometimes a kind of violence itself. In Ray’s work, good and evil aren’t moral poles set apart from each other, they’re aspects of a whole held in tension, whether in a single person, in all of humanity, or in the mystery of God. Ray’s leanings will remind readers of Hemmingway, but given the yin and yang oneness of his work, I believe his sensibility is maybe more precisely like Japanese watercolorists: who put just enough paint on the page to render what they want you to see, leaving white space that the viewer is forced to either fill in with her imagination or sit with, contemplating the void. For those watercolorists, who come from cultures rooted in Buddhism and Taoism, the unpainted areas aren’t just a stylistic choice, they’re a recognition that emptiness is not nothingness. In some ways, it is the most powerful form of somethingness: it is potential not yet realized. In painting, as with writing, such potential can manifest in as many ways as there are eyes reading and minds dreaming. The more of Shann Ray’s work you read the more it feels like he’s working to develop a vernacular for describing existence in ways that are both intensely personal and specific but also manifestations of the universal. Not just the nature of humans, but the nature of humanity, and further our oneness with nature. And then, with those gaps he leaves, he invites his readers — all of us — to not just paint with our own emotions, memories, and imaginings. He invites us to join our personal journey to the universal, understanding something new about everything in the process.
– Luke Baumgarten, Terrain, & Treatment/Creative