Dear New York Times Book Review
Dear N.Y.T.B.R. Pt. IV
The Editor
The New York Times Book Review
229 West 43rd Street
New York, N.Y. 10036
March 30, 2003
Dear N.Y.T.B.R.,
You guys don’t want to acknowledge my book. Fine; I’m passed that. I do think it’s worth your while, however, to consider reporting on the world’s first literary rap act: Metaphorz.
Though we are known to our dozens of downtown, hipster, funky, “with-it,” KBG-going, spoken-word-speaking, mainstream-shunning fans as Dougie C, Brit Nicky, Notorious B.E.E., J-Mac, and Flava Abe, readers of your quaint, old-fashioned Book Review might recognize us from your pages by our proper names: Douglas Coupland, Nick Hornby, Bret Easton Ellis, Jay McInerney, and me, Josh Abraham.
Oh, wait, that’s right: readers will recognize all but that last name, “Josh Abraham,” because you consistently withhold my book from the masses. Well, Metaphorz has received five stars—count ’em, five—from Rolling Stone. Spin called us the rap act of the new millennium.
My Lord! What the hell does it take to earn some “street cred” from The N.Y.T.B.R.? Who the hell do I have to sleep with? What’s it take? Are you guys just snobs or what? I can’t give much more to the literary world than twelve novels, a book of poetry, three Off Off Broadway plays, and a rap supergroup.
Get back to me before my freaking head explodes. Thanks, N.Y.T.B.R.
Shocked and awed,
Joshua Abraham
