I wanted to like this book, but I can't. I thought it would be a story about a man who loved book too much, but it wasn't. Sure, he wanted books so much that he stole it, but not because a book contains story. He only stole it because he thought wealthy people should have an imposing library, because first print books have high monetary value. It's like treating book like Prada bags or whatever other silly wealth symbols. I never could understand the power or need of marked merchandise and it annoyed me seeing books, a thing I love, treated as one. Of course this is not the author's fault, after all she was only stating the fact. However how she presented her story bothered me too. For the whole span of the book she was so bewildered that this man has so little moral in him to steal *gasp* books! She couldn't grasp this idea of immorality and kept on pushing forward people who also loved books but didn't steal, which gets pretty stale midway of the book. On the other hand she didn't have any problem understanding that Gilkey used stolen money for a nice high-life holiday or two, which led me to believe that what Bartlett couldn't grasp was not his lack of moral but his target, books instead of jewel or sport cars. I could've told her not to bother thinking about it so much, obviously Gilkey treated books as monetary valuable goods and source of prestige, so why not books? He would've done the same had his fancy was taken by jewelry or cars. So, my last grudge with this book is his method of stealing. I was imagining a daring operation involving breaking in a shop, library, highly secured museum... He could've at least stole it during open hours right in front of shop owner's nose hiding it inside his sweater... But no,it was credit card fraud *yawn* (I'm sorry, does this count as a spoiler?) I'd rather read more about this other guy who burnt down a house and killed 4 people to have the book he wanted. This book is truly a let down and dissapointment for me.