The author sold an awful lot of copies of his earlier tale, "Manchester United Ruined My Life", which was released well over a decade ago. It was a book which suggested that, in its rapacious, commercially-driven quest for monopoly, the Old Trafford operation was driving much of the joy out of football.
As a City supporter, Shindler might be expected to think that. But his tome was nicely argued, fluent and funny and found plenty who agreed with its critique of the rapacious red menace and all it stood for.
About time, you might think, for Shindler to cheer up a little. After all, this Sunday a City captain is poised to lift the English championship for only the second time in his lifetime. A championship title, moreover, which has been won at the glorious expense of the Salford beast. Just the right timing to publish a celebration of all things sky blue, you might think. Except Shindler's latest is called "Manchester City Ruined My Life."
In it he laments all the things that City have lost in their relentless pursuit of supremacy. Not just that old, traditional, comical ability to shoot themselves in the foot, but the sense of community, the sense of shared value, the sense that the players on the park are representing the regulars in the stand. The idea that they are all in it together.
What City always were, Shindler argues, was different from United. Now, he believes, that in their unrelenting desire to best their neighbours, they have become everything he loathed about the reds. In short they have ceased to be a football club and become a sporting corporation.
Quite what Shindler would have made of the revelation in the Telegraph this week that City had spent close to a billion pounds in pursuit of the prize is too late to include in his book. But not even United, the old buyers of trophies, can come close to that sort of outlay. Nor, with a bunch of parasitical American owners to satisfy, are they likely to in future.
And how Shindler must have winced when he watched television coverage of the Manc derby the other week. On the advertising hoardings around the Etihad pitch were not the usual commercial messages for Bet Fred or Carling lager. What there were instead were ads for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, holidays in the Emirates and the endless number of destinations offered by Etihad airlines.
What City, the cosy, oddball, local institution Shindler once loved, have become is something of a different order altogether. They have become the promotional vehicle for an entire nation.
As far as the world is concerned, this newly dominant entity in the world's most followed league is not the product of the east side of Manchester. It is something to do with Abu Dhabi. Which is exactly what the owners want. That is what they bought the club for: to communicate their message. And whatever message it may be, it certainly is not the old one of serial incompetence.
In a sense, Shindler is merely voicing a complaint that could be levelled at virtually every member of the Premier League. The connection between the fan and the club was severed from the moment they chucked themselves into Sky TV's marketing maw. The idea that the modern side is a reflection of the community in which it plies its trade is a quaint one.
James Gibson, the man who saved Manchester United back in Edwardian days, was certain in his purpose. He wanted, he said, to create a team of Manchester men to make Manchester proud. Sheik Mansour's purpose is altogether more ambitious: he wants to create an internationally acknowledged, winning team to put Abu Dhabi on the map.
But in that he is no different from most of the Premier League owners, who frankly would have no qualms transporting their franchise to another territory altogether if it was financially viable. These days, there are few outside Athletic Bilbao who make the kind of regionalist statement with their teams for which Shindler hankers. In order to compete, you need to an internationalist approach.
And it could be argued — and undoubtedly is in the boardrooms of our leading clubs — that frankly it doesn't matter. How many City fans worry too much about the subtle new focus of their beloved club? If it means they are now able to enjoy the sight of Yaya Toure in full flow, or watch Sergio Aguero or Vincent Kompany every fortnight, who are they to fret about the growing dislocation?
Besides, in the new circumstances, the choice of football club to follow has become a much more personal statement. It is not a matter of choosing one because of what it says about the place you come from. It is about selecting one that says something about your innate ability to back a winner. You use your club as a statement of personal power, to lord it over the loser who chose a different object of attention. And in that case, the most important thing about your choice is its ability to win.
The fact is, while Shindler may have a romantic point, for most of the club's fans, who have lived in their gloating red neighbours' shadow for so long, the only way Manchester City could be accused of ruining their lives is if they fail to beat QPR on Sunday and thus surrender the title.