Very interesting beginnings. The technique was good for a while, but grew tired of it. Also tired of how magnificent everything was-all beautiful, exquisite, the finest. Unique life. ( )

Wow. Cool. Groovy. This is a very poorly written (noun, verb, predicate) expose by a guy who thinks he is too sophisticated for words. In reality he is a lying, cheating sleaze bag of a forger. Admittedly I am fascinated with forgery and restoration/conservation, but the smug, too cool for words, name-dropping non-style of this tell-all annoyed me. (Can you tell?) This is just a catalog of petty scams interspersed with lots of drugs and alcohol. At any rate, the discussions of actual forgery techniques are decent, but the whole thing leaves you with a bad taste and a need for a bath. One can't help but wonder why such a "talented" artist didn't just paint...Oh, I know, because he made a fortune cheating and lying (not that I am all that sympathetic to private collectors or auction houses). The author explains that when he once tried to paint on his own, "it just didn't feel right." In fact, the more interesting part of the book dealt with the deceit and manipulation of the famous auction houses. ( )

"Caveat Emptor" is Ken Perenyi's account of his career as America's most successful art forger. It's an incredible story, hard to believe how a young and untrained artist could fool the art world so easily. And now that the FBI has closed the case and the statue of limitations has expired, Perenyi is able to tell his story.

He discusses how he got started, and subsequently how he worked from New York to Florida to London selling his fakes. The interesting thing to me is how easily he managed to pull it all off. ( )

Poorly-written but beautifully-told and about something with which I am endlessly fascinated: forgery. As told by the art-forger himself, Ken Perenyi. Told from the 1st person by an unreliable narrator, himself, but it transported me to NY and the UK in the 60s, 70s, and 80s -- as if I were there. ( )

I had to consciously resist the urge to allow my review of this book to be tainted by my feelings for the scumbag who wrote it. That’s why I gave it three stars. It was a pretty decent story, but the guy who lived it is truly a low life. My first hint of that was when he revealed that one of his attorneys was another scumbag, Roy Cohn, lawyer to other deplorables including Donald Trump. I won’t reveal how the story ends, but I will say, if you decide to read this book, you have to try hard not to lose your latest meal as the author drops name after name in the New York social scene. I’ve always assumed that people who drop names probably didn’t know the people they are talking about. For example, for no apparent reason Perenyi mentions seeing Andy Warhol at a distance in his neighborhood. Finally, after several Warhol sightings, the author thinks he sees the famous artist smile at him. And that’s pretty much it! No other reason to mention Warhol. No interactions with him. No cocktails with him. No Warhol evaluations of his work. But he did think he saw that ever so slight smile from Andy one day when they passed each other on the street. The book is not badly written, but the publisher, Pegasus, might want to consider editing a little tighter. I ran across two typos in the first half of the book. I can’t recall actually seeing typographical errors in a book published by a reputable publisher. If you enjoy reading about the immoral activities of an amoral “artist,” this book might be for you. ( )