For a while, the story about contemporary publishing has been that men are out. Especially unwelcome are stories about male desire and frustration. The last person anyone in literary publishing wants to hear from, or about, is a creepy, entitled incel. The publication and reception of Tony Tulathimutte’s interconnected short-story collection Rejection should make us rethink these assumptions about the state of American literature. Tulathimutte’s sophomore work, which Vulture has called the “first great incel novel,” has been widely praised and highly remunerative (the author received a $350,000 advance).
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