To say that I've got mixed feelings about this book is an understatement. Let me explain, expand and expound.

The good:

- When it gets it right, it gets it oh so right; there's nothing quite like the special kind of deliciousness you get when you read a description of the workings of your very soul in a book.
- The language can be truly marvellous at times; I'll be needing to skim through this again and jot down all sorts of fantabulous words to look up & henceforth help propagate through our sadly predictable age.
- The historical anecdotes are often amusing, inspired and inspiring.
- The book's worth picking up for its bibliography alone; Tom Raabe's read list instantly transmigrated into my TBR list upon competion of the tome.

The bad:

- I don't like my bibliophilia being treated like something I should be cured of. Admittedly, it is clear that the notion of 'disease' is used as a structural conceit rather than as a serious analytical preposition, yet it irked me to be told I was 'sick' and even more that the author kept see-sawing between loving and hating the 'heinous condition', as he called it. Though this love-hate relationship is in keeping with the book's premise, I'm not about to lie and say having a finger (ironic or no) pointed at me all the time felt nice.
- Colloquialisms, I felt, dragged the tone down a bit too often. I and the rest of this book's intended audience eat abstruse words for breakfast in the company of Dr. Johnson, so please do not insult our intelligence by interveawing the profane with all that can be sacredly beautiful about the English language.

All in all, I'm glad I read the thing; despite its flaws, it was enjoyable and entertaining, short and snappy enough not to outgrow its initial idea, succeeded me in teaching me a lot and making me want to know more re: its subject, and managed to elicit more than a few smirks - mostly of recognition, but there were also several instances of genuine amusement. ( )

A thoroughly enjoyable book that I would wholeheartedly recommend to each and every LT-er. It could have been written for us - or by us, for that matter!

In short, this is a comprehensive guide to biblioholism and all the various quirky traits and habits that go along with it. It is evident that Raabe is 'one of us' and he drives right to the heart of our affliction with great humour and insight. Do you find yourself spending money on books that would otherwise have been spent on food? Getting rid of your possessions to fit in more books? Do you set yourself a book budget, or are you of the belief that if it's under £5 it's a bargain anyway? Do you have to sneak books in past your other half? What would your fantasy bookshop be like? Do you read in restaurants, in bed, on the train? Do you lend your books or guard them protectively? On top of discussions of all these topics and more, Raabe includes an amusing alternative history of the book, a look at book narcissism (don't pretend you haven't succumbed on occasion) and a section on the extremes of bookish behaviour - eating books, stealing them, destroying them.

With a wealth of interesting and amusing examples of biblioholic behaviour, some sweet illustrations and a strong bibliography (like we needed to add any more to our TBR mountains!), this comes very highly recommended and is a firm keeper for me.

What wild desires, what restless torments seize
The hapless man, who feels the book-disease. ( )

Nonfiction about the disease of biblioholism. I have to say it’s a relief to discover that I am not a biblioholic. Bibliophile, sure. But compared to some of the behaviors described in this book, my love for books is mild—and healthy. I have no problem trading my books when I’m done with them or returning them to the library, I’ve never been fired for reading on the job, sold all my furniture to make room for more stacks of books, nor actually followed in Erasmus’ steps and spent money on a book when I needed my last few dollars for food and nourishment. Like any hobby or interest, some folks take the love of books to the extreme, to the exclusion of almost everything else. I had first read about this obsession with books when one of the characters in the last Cliff Janeway book of John Dunning’s (which I read last month) was afflicted with this disease—and yes, it is indeed a disease. A bit shocking what some folks will do for books, really. One might laugh it off as a harmless addiction—not like alcohol, tobacco, drugs, gambling or other so-called self-destructive substances or habits, right? After reading this book, I would tend to disagree. Interesting book, though the author kind of annoyed me at times—his style or something, dunno for sure just what. Still, I’d recommend this for anyone who thinks they are a biblioholic. The book will possibly either confirm your suspicions or leave you breathing a sigh of relief, as I did. LOL ( )

Hilarious and painfully true. ( )

A very cheeky and fun read. I am an admitted bookaholic with no intentions of recovering from my addiction. I don't hurt anyone, and I have an entire family of enablers who support my habit with the off chance that maybe, just maybe, I'll share my bounty. It doesn't happen very often, but the jackals remain at the door, panting over my bounty of booky goodness.

I buy books at a rapid pace, though I try to curb my overall enthusiasm. A day without a book is a bleak day indeed.

There are worse things to be addicted to. Heroin. Crack. Crystal Meth. However, bookish people all know that books are just as potent an addiction. ( )