It happens to everyone, eventually. We thought The Reluctant would make it a bit longer. Alas, it wasn’t to be so. He is lost in his own adventure, or would that be fantasy? We wish him the best of luck and hope he gets the care he needs. After all, when one encounters this challenge in his own adventure, he deserves get well wishes:
9. Sam Tanenhaus bemoans the lack of confrontational writing within your 25-word blurb. Where’s the Wieseltier or the Clive James feel? You have no answer. You meet with Tanenhaus at an upscale restaurant on the west side and he slaps you on the wrist with his portable ruler, which was specially constructed for him as a tchotchke from the good folks at McGraw Hill, who had hoped to ingratiate him. He dons a yarmulke, shouts to you that “He hef no son” and has two men throw you out of the building. You spend years in a padded cell, clutching onto a toy manatee named Simon given to you by Jungians to free you mind. It takes 27 years for you to fully recover. But that’s okay. By the time you’re sane, the flying cars have arrived.
P.S. – Whose tiger?
