[EDITOR’S NOTE: This post, as you’ve probably already gathered, is a parody of Otto Penzler’s New York Sun column. But since Mr. Penzler has threatened me by email, I have added this note to state that THIS POST IS A PARODY, and it is reflective of a character named “Otto Peltzer,” not Penzler.]
It was just as I was trying to figure out another way to hate myself and the world at large when I stumbled upon something called a graphic novel. I’ve been told the graphic novel is “hot with the kids.” But I have yet to apply the thermometer to some near-homeless urchin hanging outside my great island of choice.
When I was a kid (or perhaps “kiddish”) back in 1985, my great imprint, The Mysterious Press, published Raymond Chandler’s screenplay Payback. I have no idea why anyone needed to publish again. I, Otto Peltzer, had the final word. I was the great mystery tastemaker. There were learned and entertaining people writing learned and entertaining introductions back in those days. And I was the one making these learned and entertaining business choices, which were, in turn, certainly more learned and entertaining than these young upstarts at Arcade Publishing, who think that by drawing crude diagrams that they can somehow “reinvent” the genre. Without a doubt, this choice may be considered “entertaining” by a few declasse individuals. But it is far from learned. Need one say more?
As everyone knows by now, there is a bestselling author named Dan Brown. His first name is Dan, his last name is Brown. These two names aren’t as interesting as my own. Perhaps the time has come to use the Russian patronymic to Manhattan culture. It would certainly help me keep track of various bloodlines on Father’s Day.
I’ll sign off with words of wisdom from Alfred Shinola, a writer who I alone have read: “Life is a terrifying ordeal and, if one cannot abide by the first priority of run away, carrying a frown and holding grudges are satisfactory seconds.”