Voices by Kyle Muntz is special, not just for being his first book, but as an early glimpse at a writer I’ve come to really enjoy. I’m about halfway through, and so far, it reads like a conversation, a multifaceted, complex, yet emotionally rife exploration of philosophy and love. “‘If you were a metaphysical object, where would you be hiding?’” Muntz’s narrator poses. How about within the pages of Voices, or better yet, a dialogue, an ontological conundrum wrapped up in poetry. The book is a mix of prose that takes lyrical stabs at the random staccatos of communication in its unique forms. It recognizes attempts at categorizing or even “naming” the insinuations language attempts to solidify falter. One of my favorite parts is early on:
“She tasted like moonlight and nocturnal beauty. No, that’s not true either. She tasted like vodka and lips, tongue and teeth. Neither of us understood beauty, though I think he wanted to. Life would be so much simpler if we could pretend not to have names.”
It’s the nameless things Voices tries to tell us about. “If walls could speak, then maybe the world would still be full of conversation.” These aren’t just brick walls Muntz is talking about, but the barriers of personality and dross and pain we all form to barricade ourselves from exposure. Wouldn’t those make for interesting topics of conversation?