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From Barnes & NobleThe Barnes & Noble Review
She might think she's channeling Nancy Drew and Harriet the Spy, but Amy Gray -- a 24-year-old private investigator who's penned a tell-all memoir of three years spent chasing lots of dot-com crime in a seedy firm dubbed "The Agency" -- is more Brooklyn Carrie Bradshaw than Charlie's Angel.
Like Lauren Weisberger, who parlayed her experiences at Vogue into The Devil Wears Prada, Gray knew a potential book contract when she saw one. She left her grunt-level publishing job at Pantheon to work as a private eye in a Manhattan investigative firm -- where Wild Turkey was the office drink, "Assman" was a colleague's name, and hangovers from Alphabet City bars were nursed with next-day emails from last night's bedfellows.
Although it's nonfiction, Gray's tale, with its New York characters and its clever take on 20-something dating angst, will definitely appeal to devotees of chick-lit. Not that Gray doesn't have a special knack for cracking cases. "New York is the home of con artists," she writes. "It's also the home of the self-invented.... [E]veryone is working it, fronting it, faking it, so much so that there's an assumption of inauthenticity on the part of everyone. Most enviable," she continues, "is the ability to replace history with a more auspicious façade...and start anew."
Now, that's autobiographical. Sallie Brady