A Conspiracy of Paper: A Novel by David Liss

By David Liss

Benjamin Weaver is an intruder in eighteenth-century London: a Jew between Christians; a ruffian between aristocrats; a retired pugilist who, employed by means of London's gentry, travels in the course of the legal underworld in pursuit of borrowers and thieves.

In A Conspiracy of Paper, Weaver investigates a criminal offense of the main own variety: the mysterious loss of life of his estranged father, a infamous stockjobber. to discover the solutions, Weaver needs to deal with a determined prostitute who is familiar with an excessive amount of approximately his prior, family members who remind him of his alienation from the Jewish religion, and a cabal of robust males on the earth of British finance who've hidden their company dealings in the back of an problematic internet of deception and violence. hoping on brains and brawn, Weaver uncovers the beginnings of a wierd new fiscal order in line with inventory speculation--a lifestyle that poses nice possibility for traders yet actual possibility for Weaver and his family.

In the culture of The Alienist and written with scholarly awareness to interval aspect, A Conspiracy of Paper is likely one of the wittiest and such a lot suspenseful historic novels in contemporary reminiscence, in addition to a perceptive and beguiling depiction of the beginning of today's monetary markets. In Benjamin Weaver, writer David Liss has created an irresistibly beautiful protagonist, one that parlays his wisdom of the rising inventory industry right into a new form of detective work.

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Extra info for A Conspiracy of Paper: A Novel

Sample text

I only nodded slowly. I was now thoroughly confused as to what this man wanted, for it was perfectly plain that he had not come regarding my unfortunate affair of the previous night. As I mulled over my many uncertainties, it occurred to me that I vaguely recalled Balfour’s father. I remembered hearing my father speak of him—he had said only good things of the man, for they had been closer, I think, than simple acquaintances, though to call them friends would have been exaggerating the possibilities of their interaction.

I knew nearly nothing of his affairs, and it had hardly occurred to me that his death might have been anything as horrid as murder. This thought had, however, occurred to my father’s kinsman, my Uncle Miguel, who had written to inform me of his suspicions. I blush to own I rewarded his efforts to seek my opinion with only a formal reply in which I dismissed his ideas as nonsensical. I did so in part because I did not wish to involve myself with my family and in part because I knew that my uncle, for reasons that eluded me, had loved my father and could not accept the senselessness of so random a death.

It had grown cool with nightfall, and pulling her close to me, I let Kate lead me through a winding maze of London back alleys. I understood that she sought to disorient me, and though I was far less cloudy with wine than she believed, she had me all but entirely confused within a few minutes, for she knew well the dark and labyrinthine streets. I could only be certain that we stayed near the river and walked in the direction of Puddle Dock. It was late and quite dark, and close to the river as we were it should have been dangerous for us to walk in that way.

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