Man Who Loved Books Too Much (Bartlett)

Book Reviews
The ways of criminals are mean and manifold, yet few acts of thievery are more confounding than book theft. If you know how to steal with impunity, why waste that precious expertise on a book when you can filch a purse or a bike or a laptop? The Man Who Loved Books Too Much explores the riddle with charm and smarts.
Chicago Tribune

Tautly written, wry, and thoroughly compelling.Bartlett is an appealing storyteller who becomes more personally entangled in her narrative than she had wished, which adds to the drama.
Los Angeles Times

Tautly written, wry, and thoroughly compelling. Bartlett is an appealing storyteller who becomes more personally entangled in her narrative than she had wished, which adds to the drama.
San Francisco Chronicle

Bartlett delves into the world of rare books and those who collect—and steal—them with mixed results. On one end of the spectrum is Salt Lake City book dealer Ken Sanders, whose friends refer to him as a book detective, or “Bibliodick.” On the other end is John Gilkey, who has stolen over $100,000 worth of rare volumes, mostly in California. A lifelong book lover, Gilkey's passion for rare texts always exceeded his income, and he began using stolen credit card numbers to purchase, among others, first editions of Beatrix Potter and Mark Twain from reputable dealers. Sanders, the Antiquarian Booksellers' Association's security chair, began compiling complaints from ripped-off dealers and became obsessed with bringing Gilkey to justice. Bartlett's journalistic position is enviable: both men provided her almost unfettered access to their respective worlds. Gilkey recounted his past triumphs in great detail, while Bartlett's interactions with the unrepentant, selfish but oddly charming Gilkey are revealing (her original article about himself appeared in The Best Crime Reporting 2007). Here, however, she struggles to weave it all into a cohesive narrative.
Publishers Weekly

In her first book, freelance writer Bartlett lifts the veil on the methods of John Charles Gilkey, a thief whose prey of choice was rare books (between 1999 and 2003 he stole approximately $100,000 worth of books from dealers nationwide). Equally fascinating is Gilkey's pursuer, Ken Sanders, a rare-books dealer-turned-amateur detective. Listeners are drawn into the convoluted mind of the thief, the determination of the dealer, and the author's own ambivalence as she becomes involved with both figures and begins to question her journalistic impartiality. Narrator Judith Brackley, who has a long career as a voice artist, brings the appropriate degree of calm and matter-of-fact narration to this engaging material. For all book lovers, book collectors, and readers of true crime. —J. Sara Paulk, Fitzgerald-Ben Hill Cty. Lib., GA
Library Journal

A Janet Malcolm-style reflection on the ramifications of a reporter's interaction with a criminal, in this case one with a bibliomania shared by the antiquarian book dealer pursuing him. Over four years, John Charles Gilkey pilfered hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of rare books, often with credit-card numbers obtained from his part-time job at Saks Fifth Avenue. As freelance journalist Bartlett points out, antiquarian-book theft occurs more frequently than that of fine art. Rather than advertise a theft that would inflame fears of lax security, dealers often prefer to stay quiet about losses. Gilkey's passion-but not his larcenous instinct-was shared by Ken Sanders, a rare-book dealer and volunteer security chair of the Antiquarian Booksellers' Association of America, who doggedly tracked the con man, sometimes at the expense of his own business. Sanders is part of a profession often composed of obsessives who do the work as a labor of love, barely making ends meet. Though she misses a few aspects of the business—e.g., does the Internet secure or tighten dealers' control over their collections?—Bartlett is adept at explaining the mindset required for this trade. But as she interviews Gilkey and accompanies him on a few of his rounds, she finds herself asking questions about her project. Is she giving this narcissist attention that his crimes don't merit? Is she responsible for reporting his crimes to police and unsuspecting book dealers? Many readers will disagree that Gilkey had "come to seem a happy man with goals, ambition, and some measure of success," while supporting the opposite conclusion, that he was "greedy, selfish, criminal." Not only a "cautionary tale for those who plan to deal in rare books in the future," but a demonstration of how a seasoned reporter can disregard the ethics of objectivity.
Kirkus Reviews