Dep classily poo poos THE CHARLESTON SWITCHEROO

Bonjour, Monsieur Klass:

Honoured, dear prolixic VC, that you've graced us within the decrepit walls of velvet TQR with this cap of intrigue. I reel from reading it through for it's dense in content, thick with imagery, and long in yardage.

The Monkey tilts his head from right to left as we move from page to page. There is grace here, and of course skill in craft. It is, however, either more or less than is well fitted for our meagre publication. I think it a monologue, a play, or a novella's manuscript rather than the thing we perpetually seek...merely captivating or riveting 'story'.

It may be that you could replace 'Jord' with 'DePlancher' in your line appearing on page 11 or thereabouts so that it reads: 'I can tell, DePlancher, these Greek poetical references have been flying over your head like Zeusian (or 'Klassian'?) eagles'.

Anything may be true. That you're adept at telling the tale is not in question so do not think it so for a moment. Call it misalignment of purpose, square in circle, or something like that. It is not right for us.

Best to you in finding a more welcoming placement for the work. Even our dirty, judgmental Monkey thinks it worthy of that gift.

Merci for your interest in TQR.

G. DePlancher / The Floor - TQR