Others debated whether the book world's credulous ways are in dire need of an overhaul.

Still others focused on the racial subtext of the story. Margaret B. Jones' "Love and Consequences," as many pointed out, is a familiar case of a white writer, abetted by the majority-white New York-based publishing community, appropriating the story of an oppressed minority far from Manhattan.

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FOR THE RECORD:
Faked memoir: In an article in Wednesday's Section A about reaction to the news that the Margaret B. Jones book "Love and Consequences" was a fraud, Random House spokesman Stuart Applebaum's last name was misspelled as Appelbaum. —

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"Love and Consequences" tells the story of a part Native American L.A. girl who is sent to foster care after being sexually abused, falls in with the Bloods street gang, receives a gun for her 14th birthday, and is finally rescued by a stressed-out but big-hearted black foster mother called Big Mom.

In reality, Margaret B. Jones is Margaret Seltzer, who got to know gang members through her work with the Brother/SisterHood Foundation. Her deception was revealed by her sister, Cyndi Hoffman, who called the book's publisher, Riverhead, after a profile of the author, with photograph, ran in the New York Times' House and Home section.

Today Riverhead, a division of Penguin Books, recalled the memoir, canceled the author's appearances and offered an apology.

"Riverhead relies on authors to tell us the truth," Marilyn Ducksworth, executive director of publicity, said in a statement. "Indeed, an author promises us the truth in their publishing agreement. When it became known that the author was misrepresenting her personal story, we took it seriously, moved very quickly and attempted to corroborate new information we were presented with."

Still, the publisher defended its original faith in the book, saying Seltzer had provided "a great deal of evidence to support her story: photographs, letters; parts of Peggy's life story in another published book; Peggy's story had been supported by one of her former professors; Peggy even introduced the agent to people who misrepresented themselves as her foster siblings."

Perhaps not surprisingly, Stuart Appelbaum, spokesman for Random House, which two years ago published James Frey's partly fabricated addiction memoir "A Million Little Pieces," was sympathetic. Appelbaum said Riverhead's competitors were not pointing fingers or gloating.

"It could happen to any of us, no matter how sophisticated or experienced we are," he said. "This woman in California seemed particularly engaged in her deception. She apparently had documentation of her own, so unless you're prepared to do an incredible reference check, things will slip through."

Others in the publishing industry said that, by now, these kinds of deceptions should be ferreted out sooner.

James Atlas, publisher of Atlas Books, said it was time for a fundamental change in how nonfiction books are vetted for accuracy.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable taking on a memoir where I had to just rely on the writer's say so," Atlas said. "It's a tremendous expense to have fact checkers. But I still think some investment has to be made in fact checking."

Outside the publishing industry, as well, there seemed to be little sympathy for Riverhead. The story percolated in the blogosphere, with most posters apparently skeptical of publishers' claims that this kind of deception is unavoidable. Asked blogger Kevin Allman: "Were any actual black people involved in the publication of this book?"

Sarah McGrath, the book's editor, and agent Faye Bender did not respond to requests for comment.

Sara Nelson, editor of Publishers Weekly, said Bender should take a larger share of the blame. "The agent is the person who represents the author in the sale of this, and very often these days agents do more than simply hand off a book. They do a lot of editing of the manuscript and the proposal; they do a lot of working with the writer."

To still others, it's a story about the press, which also bought into Seltzer's story, although her hometown paper, the Register-Guard of Eugene, Ore., postponed a planned profile when it found that she had not graduated from the University of Oregon, as she claimed.