<p><strong>An acidic portrait of the grifters and pretenders of the art world, from the celebrated author of <I>The Mars Room</I></strong></p><p>In Rachel Kushner¿s latest work of fiction, <I>The Mayor of Leipzig</I>, an unnamed artist recounts her travels from New York City to Cologne¿where she contemplates German guilt and art-world grifters, and Leipzig¿where she encounters live ¿adult entertainment¿ in a business hotel. The narrator gossips about everyone, including the author. ¿Taking a time out from what happened to me in Cologne and in Leipzig,¿ Kushner writes, ¿I want to let you in on a secret: I personally know the author of this story you¿re reading. Because she fancies herself an art world type, a hanger-on. Who would do that voluntarily? I mean, it¿s not like someone held a gun to my head and said, Be an artist. I chose it, but I still can¿t imagine having anything to do with the art world if you don¿t have to. Also, people who don¿t make stuff, who instead try to catalogue