The word “BRAT” is ominously taped on author Jon-Jon Goulian’s front-hall wall in electric-blue gaffer’s tape. Nearby, “DON’T SELL THE HOUSE,” in bold, block letters, reads like a ransom note. Goulian, his head shaved and sinewy body well-tatted, has set the stage in his duplex Greenwich Village apartment for a book party honoring 28-year-old British novelist Gabriel Smith’s literary debut, titled, well, Brat.
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