An excellent indictment of a trend in publishign that hasn't really changed that much since 2001 or so, when the book first came out: minority 'own voices' writers seem to struggle to gain recognition to write about anything except 'own voices' fiction. If a black guy wants to write novels that are structural commentaries on post-modernist blah blah Derrida, no one is interested. But if he writes, as a complete joke, the most stereotyped, offensive, racist depiction of Black youth doing crimes in the inner city, he is lauded for his 'realness' and 'rawness' and 'truth-speaking' and so on. It's Poe's Law before Poe wrote the law. 

I found this very funny, and effective at making its point--not least because it was equally willing to skewer the  hyper-intellectual literary theory crowd.  I'm not sure we really needed all those pages of the satire novel (which was incredibly disagreeable to wade through), but otherwise it was great.