Malcolm Lowry Issue no. 23 Spring 1960 I saw Lowry only once, that time thirteen years ago, when as an unknown author he arrived in New York as a kind of herald for a novel he had finally finished. Between the man and his art falls the shadow, but if there is an exception, it was Lowry and his Under the Volcano. There was no space between them, no room for a shadow. The identical pressures were in both, the same unrelenting intensity.