A friend is currently selling a limited number of manuscript copies of a novel titled "1971." A chapter has already been broadcast on VBC TV and radio some time ago.
"When I was in my twenties I wrote a book called, 1971. It is the most hilarious, original novel I have ever written and I'll bet, you have ever read. And it was noticed. The BBC bought a chapter called In Isolation-1971 and, after paying me well, broadcast it on radio and tv. One of America's great short stories writers, Irwin Shaw, loved it and signed me to his agent. Well, me and New York never got along and the book went nowhere. I hope, until now."
After pondering the matter I decided to inform the "new arts center," (which is purported to be another "tourist magnet,") about the novel. I will guarantee you they will not purchase the novel.
It will demonstrate they know nothing about "art," they are just a bunch of psuedo intellectuals who have conned the government into funding their loony notions of what they think is art!
Man by nature cannot recognise true beauty.
For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.