Hubert's Freaks: The Rare-Book Dealer, the Times Square Talker, and the Lost Photos of Diane Arbus

An outstanding novel packed with unusual twists and turns, HUBERT'S FREAKS revolves around obsessive antiques dealer and treasure hunter Bob Langmuir, who uncovers unique prints by the legendary Diane Arbus, in the process discovering a new side of not only artist Arbus but the 'weird America' she captured in film. His survey of antiques, freak show exhibits, and more evolves into a catchy road show of discovery in a novel packed with adventure, and highly recommended as a fine leisure read.

I loved this book. I read it straight through like it was a detective novel. I could not wait to see what would happen next. I loved the story and the strange characters, especially Bob. But most of all, I loved Gibson's wry humor and beautiful writing. This is a compelling and wonderful book.

Like dust to a vacuum cleaner, and sucked in faster than I could think to this gripping story of Bob and other protagonists and characters of this marvelous book. Knowing some of them personally added another dimension for me, but the detail of Diane Arbus's intimate perception and insertion into the lives of her subjects brought a deeper dimension to portrait photography. And then of course is Bob, the art dealer in his trader world, with potential marks and hopes of patrons, where the real money is in the art world, to the gatekeepers of that realm posing or installed as museum curators. The book is a tantalizing thriller with insight. Alen MacWeeney

Greg Gibson is a superb writer and has succeeded in combining the multifarious strands of a twisted plot to give us a riveting account of a fascinating episode in the life of an American icon. A must-read -- I finished in one flight from NY to SF. Buy it now and give copies to any friends who can read. They will kiss your feet.

Greg Gibson has captured a moment in the slippy-slidey story of Times Square by ressurecting the red-fronted phenomenon of Hubert's Dime Museum, which lived in the time after 42nd St was the center for legitimate theater but before it crashed and forced the City Fathers to scrub the fun out of it. He uses the story of a neurotic antiquarian book dealer who winkled out trunksful of leftover stuff and the Diane Arbus photographs that were in it, to weave a rich ohmigod, New York story that I had thought was no longer available in these low-cholesterol times. If New York in the middle of the 20th century meant anything to you, you need to read this. (Remember Prof. Heckler's flea circus?)