"Dear [name of author]: This is beautifully done, but I think I'm the wrong guy for it. I passed it on to my colleague Laney Becker, who does a lot of women's fiction (I thought maybe it could be considered women's fiction, which is why I sent it over to her), and alas she felt that it wasn't quite up her alley, either. I don't have any criticism - it's gorgeously done - and I'm sure you'll find an agent and a publisher in a heartbeat for it, but I guess we just don't have the vision for it. SO sorry - would have loved to work with you on it - and do stay in touch and let me know where it lands!
Folio Literary Management"
It makes you want to shout at this dude: "So just publish the damn thing if it's so beautiful, gorgeous, and beyond criticism." I guess the book wasn't exactly Chick Lit, or probably Jeff's zany side kick Laney would have snapped it up. And what is Women's Fiction anyway? I thought most readers today were women, so wouldn't that make it Reader's Fiction or People-Who-Buy-Book's Fiction? But really, why bother to argue the point? Today, it all seems so futile. BTW, the author notes that her fabulous novel still isn't published. Something is wrong, my friends. Something is terribly wrong.