The Reluctant Metrosexual

June 14, 2004
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. Agent, Jennifer Unter. (On sale July 7)

Forecast:
Ads in alternative weeklies and an author tour to metrosexual hubs (e.g., New York City, Boston, San Francisco) could help this latest real-life lad lit sell.

September 1, 2004
In this wry essay collection, Hyman explores the repercussions of being metrosexual (a marketing descriptor that refers to straight men with sensibilities for the finer things in life, like oatmeal face scrubs and track lighting). But in his intelligent musings on everything from leaving law school to being propositioned by a muscular masseuse, Hyman transcends that goal and offers a broader wisdom about what it means to try to live life outside labels. That he reads his own book at first works against him because of his sarcastic manner and monotone voice. His tenor may also distract listeners trying to remember the difference between straight, gay and metrosexual, but he frequently reiterates his preference for women; indeed, some of the most powerful material comes when Hyman discloses his greatest moments of mortification around the opposite sex. As Hyman talks candidly about struggling to avoid the traditional corporate track at Vanity Fair and facing a machine gun on an ill-fated Mexican adventure, listeners will grow to know and respect him, and through him a whole generation of sensitive men trying to make their way in America's urban centers.