If you remember this rant from a couple of years ago about an ARC I received, you'll understand my reaction when I walked into my office and found THIS in the mail...
Dear, God. Not another cutesy attempt to get my attention? Not another silly promo scheme? Where's the trash can?
Wait. This looks like a greasy, wrinkled brown paper bag. That label looks like a deli label. Ewweee. Is that a blood splatter?
Well, maybe not so cutesy. Certainly not romantically schmaltzy like the one I wrote about a couple of years ago. But still, gimmicky. And by my lights, that is just as great a sin.
I had to admit, I'm intrigued by the blood splatter on the label. I was betting that it was a gruesome murder mystery where some deranged butcher starts filling the local Piggly Wiggly meat case with ground human.
I decided to look inside just to satisfy my curiosity. But I was determined NOT to reward gimmick marketing by reading the contents. Now way was I going to abandon my principles.
As I turn toward the trash can, I tear open the faux brown paper. And there, staring back at me is the the bad boy of food writing. The man who has no peer when it comes to edgy poetics about food. If they started giving a Pulitzer Prize for food writing, he would be its first winner.
I think I'll just pretend this came in a nice clean manilla envelope with a traditional introductory letter.