Ultraluminous

September 15, 2017
Another unsparing novel from the author of Young God (2014). No one here has a name. There's "the junk-bond guy," "the calf's brain guy," "the art guy," and "the guy who buys me things." These are all clients. There's "the ex-Army Ranger," a lover. There's "the Sheik," a man she met in Dubai, another boyfriend. Finally, there's the narrator, who identifies herself only with a series of pseudonyms--Slavic diminutives of her real name, because everyone seems to think she's Polish or Russian, and she is willing to let people think what they think. As for her own thoughts, they are her only real possession, and she keeps them to herself. The damaged, emotionally reticent prostitute is a cliche, of course, but Faw's approach to this subject is inventive and surprising. Her heroine's caginess informs the shape of the novel. The story unfolds in a series of short vignettes, microfictions only tenuously connected by anything like a plot. Even in the private space of this text, the narrator reveals little about herself or the men who pay for her services. Every glimpse of the author's innermost self functions as a sign of how much she's withholding. Faw's language is simultaneously blunt and opaque, precise and obfuscating. Descriptions of sex, violence, and drug addiction are free from euphemism or romance, but crucial facts are often omitted. The narrator has returned to New York after working as a prostitute in the United Arab Emirates, and 9/11 casts a shadow over the story. But the reality that it's just as easy to buy a woman in the United States as it is in the Middle East makes easy moral oppositions impossible. The narrator keeps hold of her life by recognizing and following patterns, and a story that, at first, seems shapeless comes into focus at the end. To say that it is brilliant is not to say that it's pleasant. Artful and ruthless.

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October 2, 2017
Faw’s second novel (after Young God) pulses with an irresistible voice and the sense of impending catastrophe. The narrator, a prostitute who gives herself a different name beginning with K to every man, tells her story in sharp, crackling prose. She looks back often on her formative experiences with prostitution in Dubai with a man who had a dangerous career of his own. Now back in her native New York, her weeks are divided between men, aesthetic enhancement like pedicures and teeth bleaching, and her heroin habit. However, what could easily have turned into a blur of sex and drugs is kept in focus by concise but revealing details, such as when K desires “an egg custard that will only be texture, no taste,” one of many pieces that feel crucial in assembling the puzzle of her damaged, guarded soul. Such moments also keep her enigmatic humanity burning along with the undercurrent of hopelessness from the trauma of her past. Becoming men’s fantasies is as natural as breathing to her; her own identity disappears to make each man come alive, and she seems resentful of and careless with her own life. Yet she dates one man whom she loves, and her caring for him shows a softness even as her rage and despair grow. Faw’s writing is raw and not for all tastes, but this incisive character study, featuring an exceptionally clear and memorable prose style, should find its audience. Agent: Chris Parris-Lamb, the Gernert Co.

November 15, 2017
Faw's (Young God, 2014) second novel is the startling, poignant, raw drama of a sarcastic, smart, high-end prostitute recently returned from the Middle East. On-the-clock, K rotates through five wealthy clients who parade her around New York hot spots reserved for the ultrarich: ostentatious restaurants, obnoxious art galleries, drug-fueled orgies. She obeys; she pleases; she endures. Her mantra is false submission. Off-the-clock, she is beholden only to herself: to self-grooming (manicures, Brazilians) and self-preservation (bags of dope). It's a pattern, a means of control. In fearless prose, Faw crafts K's days and nights into snapshot-like vignettes that capture K as a fierce, strong woman who, despite her profession, calls the shots. But almost imperceptibly, things unravel. She loses faith in her self-prescribed routine. She ominously declares, Like everyone, I want to control the way I die. Her search to find balance between submission and control exemplifies the universal struggle to define one's freedom. The success of Faw's seismic story lies in a protagonist who, however improbable her life, is dynamic, true, and ultimately her own savoir. Daring and original.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2017, American Library Association.)