I loved "The Thieves of Manhattan" by Adam Langer. A well wrought premise, at first neatly told and with little literary conceits that are down right amusing: a golightly is a cocktail dress as in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and a faulkner is a whiskey, and so on. There is even a glossary of terms. Imagined or not, it is an interesting glimpse into the publishing world that seems dimmer everyday; smug agents, posers, flash-in-the-pan best selling authors, clueless publishers. A book where most characters are not as they seem.
As said I loved it, as in past tense. Someone once wrote or said that in a novel an author can get away with one coincidence, and I suppose in a tolstoy (really hefty one) perhaps a couple. As this story unspools the coincidences, the accidents of improbable timing are simply staggering. It became almost impossible to suspend disbelief--as if one had been reading an amusing book that suddenly turned into a Indiana Jones adventure, and then into a cartoon.
In the first half there were a couple of plot distractions that caused hairline cracks in my suspension of disbelief, but they weren't fatal. All of a sudden something happens on page 174 that doesn't seem wrong until later in the story, but eventually it causes major cracks in the disbelief problem. (I don't want to make this a spoiler.) On page 194 a genuine deus ex machina appears in the form of an overweight café owner--unexpected and really inexplicable, although the author tries to explain it. In another scene the hero apparently reaches out for a glass of water but two pages later his hands are tied so that he has to indicate something with his chin as a pointer.
Lastly, I wished that I'd stopped reading at about page 190 and skipped to the last chapter. In the in between our hero becomes something of a human punching bag who should have been dead or hospitalized but manages with amazing resilience to bounce back like Wiley Coyote.
Hence the three stars.