From Publishers Weekly
Providing further evidence of the fine line between being a dorky loser and a pop-culture superhero (William Hung, anyone?), this is Hyman's attempt to turn his failures at love, life and employment into a cash cow. What's in it for readers? "Well, very little," admits Hyman, a Manhattan writer and occasional stand-up comedian, but it "beats a kick in the teeth, or being shipped off to fight in Iraq." A metrosexual, Hyman reminds us, is a straight guy in touch with his feminine side, one who appreciates "expensive home furnishings, good grooming, and heirloom tomatoes." Actually, Hyman comes off as an everyman probing the outer edges of modern, mainstream, urban existence, and his essays recount his exploits with startling, often hilarious results. He recalls his appointment with Hans, a gay masseur whose hands get a little too close "to the unauthorized no-man's–land," and an aborted attempt at a ménage à trois that ends up having "all the erotic panache of a Three Stooges episode." Another chapter tells of Hyman's night on the town wearing leather pants, which prompts the astute observation, "sometimes the idea of something is better than the thing itself." Hyman's stories have funny setups, and his conversational, easy-to-read prose carries a weird poignancy.
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From Booklist
It's an urban jungle out there--especially for an arrow-straight male in touch with his feminine side. From flat-front trousers to oatmeal facial scrubs to fine interior design, this wry debut gathers the chromosomal contemplations of a "metrosexual"--a modern-day "X"-man who can't help but wonder "Y." Law-school dropout, former
Vanity Fair staffer, and confirmed heterosexual Hyman covets the tony Manhattan lifestyle--the classy girlfriend, the well-appointed co-op apartment, the career that gains him entree into the exclusive Upper West Side. Instead, his world is a veritable dim sum of bewildering social encounters--dates who vomit, a luscious threesome that goes limp, and a handsome massage therapist with a curious "release" technique. All the while, men and women gaze at the author's slight build and natty dress and conclude that he's gay. (A writing assignment requiring him to wear a leather ensemble worthy of the Village People does little to dissuade.) A master of self-deprecation in the spirit of Joe Queenan and P. J. O'Rourke, Hyman takes on contemporary culture with a scalpel and a smirk.
Allison BlockCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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