Dear Committee Members. Julie Schumacher

of the literature and writing programs, which the faceless gremlins in your office have condemned to indigence and ruin.

      Furthermore, West is not yet jaded or cynical; a former Eagle Scout, he maintains a “team spirit” approach to the institution. Before construction forced us to seal ourselves into our offices like agoraphobic strangers in a cut-rate motel, I could frequently hear, across the hall and three doors down, in West’s office, the contented chatter of freshmen being persuaded that clarity of expression might be achievable as well as worthwhile.

      Only by rewarding West and others of his happy ilk, and perhaps by killing off senior faculty, myself included, will it be possible for that elusive and almost mythical beast—collegiality—to prevail. (You may have thought that plunging us into receivership and imposing an outsider as our chair would serve to unite us, but Boti is sadly out of his element; he wanders the halls, bewildered, with a soiled bandanna affixed to his face³ like a madman descending into a dream.)

      Other LORs cascading onto your desk like autumn leaves may suggest that the Campiello Award, associated with a modest financial settlement and a plaque on which the administration does its best to spell the awardee’s name correctly, should be given to a colleague more senior than West. This is shortsighted thinking. West is not yet entrenched, and because of the caliber of his scholarship and his regular presence at the requisite conferences, he is rapidly making a name for himself. If we don’t engage in an aggressive effort to retain him, other (more prestigious) institutions will poach. West is unprepossessing—but he is also a striver. Put a ladder in front of him and he will eagerly climb it. So much intellectual will and ambition! I confess: at this point of my career, that sort of enthusiasm fatigues me. The role that is left to me is to stand in the patronizing shadow of my younger and more aspiring colleagues and push. Up the chimney with you, and don’t get soot on your knickers along the way!

      Those of you in the superior ranks of the Land of Red Tape would do well to watch your backs: if West hasn’t yet fled the institution, he’ll have one of your jobs in a few short years.

      With the customary respect and a nod of deference,

      Jason Fitger, Professor/Hazardous Materials Specialist

      Willard Hall

      October 16, 2009

      Avengers Paintball, Inc.

      1778 Industrial Blvd.

      Lakeville, MN 55044

      Esteemed Avengers,

      This letter recommends Mr. Allen Trent for a position at your paintball emporium. Mr. Trent received a C– in my expository writing class last spring, which—given my newly streamlined and increasingly generous grading criteria—is quite the accomplishment. His final project consisted of a ten-page autobiographical essay on the topic of his own rageful impulses and his (often futile) attempts to control them. He cited his dentist and his roommate as primary sources.

      Consider this missive a testament to Mr. Trent’s preparedness for the work your place of business undoubtedly has in store.

      Hoping to maintain a distance of at least one hundred yards,

      Jason T. Fitger

      Professor of Creative Writing and English

      Payne University (“Teach ’til It Hurts”)

      October 17, 2009

       (My all-inclusive calendar invites me to celebrate Diwali today)

      Ken Doyle

      Hautman and Doyle Literary Agency

      141 West 27th Street

      New York, NY 10001

      Dear Ken—

      Business first: I’m writing on behalf of a student—you remember students from our Seminar days, I’m sure—Darren Browles, who is currently putting the finishing touches on a powerhouse work of fiction: a debut novel, an excerpt from which, if I manage to knock some sense into his rocky skull, will be on your desk next week.

      Accountant in a Bordello is a shattering reinterpretation of Bartleby: the main character, tight-lipped introvert Herman Crown, is an accountant at one of the biggest legal whorehouses in the state of Nevada, spending his days tallying expenses, passing up opportunities at wealth and advancement, eschewing friendships, and generally maintaining, amidst the titillating hubbub of his surroundings, a dispassionate isolation, an existential solitude. The prose—at one moment profoundly spare, the next moment rococo—is entirely his own; Ken, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. I urged him to send you the entire manuscript (which, admittedly, should be trimmed, at five-hundred-plus pages), but Browles is cautious and will probably submit only the first several chapters. As his advisor, even I haven’t read the book straight through—Browles hands me a chunk, scuttles back to his hidey-hole to revise, then reappears with another. Ken: take him on. This is a book that—after a little light housework—should garner multiple bids at auction. And a healthy advance will allow Browles to trim and to work with a top-notch editor on the final version.

      On the personal side: I’m sorry about the tone of the conversation we had last year. Transfer of Affection didn’t sell the way either of us had hoped (where did that pinhead in the Inquirer get off calling it an “embarrassment for both author and reviewer”?), but that was a blip, not a moratorium—and for you to hand the excerpt of my novel in progress to your assistant … Well, never mind. Water under the bridge and all that; I’m sure the twelve-year-old you assigned the task of evaluating my work did her utmost. In any case, I hope you won’t let the memory of any previous quibbles prevent you from recognizing a phenomenon like Browles, who, I believe, will soon be enjoying some literary solitude at Bentham.

      You’ve heard that Eleanor A. is now Bentham’s director? Do you remember her throwing an apple core at me across the Seminar table in HRH’s class? She was ill-disposed toward me even before I wrote and published Stain. Here’s hoping her directorial skills are better than her throwing arm.

      Nostalgically,

      Jay

      October 20, 2009

       Confidential Reference for LTZ39JN7 Jervana Natal

       1. How long and in what capacity have you known the applicant?

      Ms. Natal is a senior due to graduate in May of this coming year. I have known her for

       Confidential Reference for LTZ39JN7 Jervana Natal

       1. How long and in what capacity have you known the applicant?

      I have known Ms. Natal for approximately eight weeks. She is a senior due to graduate in

       Confidential Reference for LTZ39JN7 Jervana Natal

       You have requested technological assistance regarding the submission of the above-named reference. Please describe the problem you are experiencing.

      The problem I am experiencing is that every time I hit the fucking return key or try to indent a

       Confidential Reference for LTZ39JN7 Jervana Natal

      the fucking return key or try to indent or god forbid fit a coherent sentence into your fucking

      October 23, 2009

      Student Services/Fellowship Office

      14 Gilbert Hall

      Attn: The Gentle Carole Samarkind, Associate Director

      Dear Carole:

      This letter’s purpose is to provide the usual gratuitous language recommending a student, one Gunnar Lang, for a work-study fellowship. Lang—a sophomore with a mop of blond dreadlocks erupting from the top of his head like the yellow coils of an excess brain—tells me that he has applied, unsuccessfully, for this