Allison Hoover Bartlett

This is the perfect true crime book for me - all the intrigue without any blood or gore or violence. It's about a man who stole rare books but rarely (sorry, no pun intended) sold them because he just wanted to own them, which made it rather difficult for book sellers and the police to track him down. Of course, it's a lot deeper than that and author/journalist Bartlett managed to delve into not only his method, but also into the psychology of the criminal mind of a book thief. And of a true show more *collector*. John Gilkey, the thief, was unrepentant and even while spending time in jail, was already plotting his next move.

I also loved the historic references and insights Bartlett provided throughout to give texture and context to the story. And, let's be honest, the whole thing appealed to the book lover in me. I don't collect rare books (because of the obvious expense) but if you walked into my house, you would definitely know I collect books. Difference is, I don't steal them! ;-) show less

There are many kinds of book collectors. Some collect a particular author or subject matter, some incunables and others modern first editions. Most are rational, law-abiding citizens. But sometimes the urge to collect becomes an obsession, as with Sir Thomas Phillipps' desire to own a copy of every book in the world. (I highly recommend A.N.L. Munby's Portrait of an Obsession, a distillation by Nicolas Barker of the five volumes of Phillipps Studies.) And sometimes, as with John Gilkey, the show more subject of Ms. Bartlett's book, it causes the collector to turn to crime.

Gilkey was (is?) a book thief. He seems to have wanted books, not for their content, but to have them, to possess them as physical objects, and as a signifier of taste. But, not having the money to build his collection, he took the view that he had a right to have a collection and that, if book sellers charged more than he could afford, he could simply take them. He gathered, often through retail jobs, credit card information, and used this to purchase books.

Bartlett juxtaposes Gilkey's story with that of Ken Sanders, a book seller and one-time chair of the Antiquarian Booksellers' Association of America security committee, who became as obsessed with hunting down Gilkey as Gilkey was with hunting down books to steal.

Bartlett conducted extensive interviews with both, and one of the most interesting aspects of this book is the way its writing caused the author to become a bit obsessed herself, not so much with books, though she feels a bit of temptation herself, but with the story. She goes with Gilkey, during a time when he was not locked up, to a store from which he had stolen in the past. He reveals to her certain information, and she struggles over whether to pass it on, knowing that, if she does so, he might close his mouth to her and affect her ability to write her book.

There are those who, looking at my double-shelved bookcases, and the piles of books on my floor and most flat surfaces in my apartment, would call me a woman who loves books too much. I feel what Bartlett terms the "sensory enticement" of books, enjoy the feel of a heavy paper with deckle edge, the smell of a leather binding, the heft of a volume in my hand. But I cannot fathom stealing a book, however tempted, and would say, with the medieval scribe, that a book thief should have "his name be erased from the book of the living and not be recorded among the Blessed".

The book is well-written and well-researched (though I noted a couple of errors in legal procedure, these are minor in relation to the book as a whole), and is sure to please all who love books, detective stories, and the psychology of obsession.

UPDATE (7/7/11): ACK! He's at it again! show less

Anyone who has made their way to LibraryThing is almost certainly fascinated by books. As members of that clan, LTers will find much to enjoy -- and be provoked by -- in "The Man Who Loved Books Too Much."

Author Allison Hoover Bartlett delves into the book stealing crime spree, and the mind, of thief and con man John Gilkey. She interviewed Gilkey on multiple occasions over the course of several years. And she entered the world of rare book collectors and dealers to research her show more reporting.

Bartlett takes a somewhat unexpected approach in her book. She examines how she influences Gilkey and how she comes perilously close to unwanted complicity in his actions. (It's a tenet of physics often ignored by nonfiction writers and journalists: no one can observe a phenomenon without changing it.) Gilkey starts to live through the book she will write -- offering possible endings for his character that will aggrandize him and bring the respect and recognition he craves.

Watching Bartlett struggle with this is fascinating. Are her rationalizations more valid than Gilkeys? Is she as obsessed with collecting her story as he is with "collecting" books? Bartlett exonerates herself. Readers will feel unsettled and will need to come to their own conclusions. Including their own conclusions about what they would have done in Barlett's place -- and their complicity in enjoying the tale. show less

A fascinating and disturbing book. The author follows John Gilkey through the labyrinth of his reasoning, listening while he justifies in his own mind his relentless thieving of rare and precious books. The author delves into what lies beneath a normal collector's passion, and the driving sense of entitlement that sparks Gilkey's thefts.

She does acknowledge the difference between the dedicated, even obsessive love of most collectors and the warped logic of Gilkey's thought processes - but it show more seems sometimes that she blurs the line. So, too, she occasionally blurs the line between observing Gilkey and contributing to his ego trips. She even accompanied him as he strolls around a rare book store showing her how he cases the security, and how he identifies the prime book selections. It made me a bit uncomfortable.

But the overall impression I take from this book concerns the widespread brotherhood/sisterhood of book lovers to which I belong. (English really needs more gender-neutral nouns) Bartlett writes movingly of the deep almost visceral anger of one of the store owners that Gilkey ripped off - and the deep hurt that the loss of a rare book causes another. A really good book for bibliophiles. Oh, and by the way, Gilkey is on the loose again. show less