The character "Fake Face" in my new e-book Crime City USA isn't a metaphor for any one particular writer, whether Daniel Handler, Keith Gessen, or anyone else. He's a metaphor for the entire cronyistic shithouse that's the established literary scene.
Lit's leading lights wear bright beaming masks of social justice and concern. Beneath the masks they're ruthless bastards who were raised with the knowledge that this is a dog-eat-dog world. It's why they fight to get into bastions of Elitism and Privilege like Columbia, Yale, or Harvard. Or crony-up quickly enough with that crowd. Cronyistas. They understand that playing the game on an UNlevel playing field favoring them is what it's about. Everything else from them is lip service. Token gestures for suckers like myself.
Visualize a smiling fake face on the lot of them, then realize it's only a mask. Beneath it, like the character in my melodrama, they're monsters.