This is the sort of book that you will have to read twice.
A slow to start narrative that evolves into a nail-biting caper, The Thieves of Manhattan is tongue-in-cheek commentary on the state of the publishing industry and its canonization of fibbing memoirists.
Author Adam Langer’s protagonist, an average twenty-something literary wannabe working as a barista on the Upper West Side, unwittingly becomes the hero of his own publishing industry escapade.
Full of surprising twists, this story picks up when Ian Minot falls prey to the machinations of a strange customer, dubbed Confident Man, who convinces him to pass off the man’s swashbuckling novel as Ian’s own memoir.
The result is a veritable writer’s book, filled with inside jokes and literary allusion and caricatures of editors who offer six-figure advances after reading only the first and last pages of manuscripts. Meanwhile, in Ian’s world, fiction masquerades as fact, and what’s false quickly become true.
We get the sense that Langer had fun writing this work of pure fiction, answering his own stream of “what if’s.”