I ran across The Man Who Loved Books Too Much while looking through the new nonfiction at the library a few days ago. I scanned the jacket copy, saw that it was a nonfiction account about a rare book thief and a dealer who tracked him down, and thought, “That might be interesting.”

It was indeed interesting, and a very engaging, readable tale.

Bartlett, the author of the book, recounts her experiences in learning about the book thief (John Gilkey) and the “bibliodick,” Ken Sanders, who committed to bring him down. We not only learn about Gilkey’s thefts and time in prison, and about Sanders’ experience as a dealer and with other book thieves; we also see a story evolve and get to watch the interactions between Bartlett and Gilkey and Bartlett and Sanders.

At this point I have to say that Bartlett is a much more patient and journalistic soul than I could ever be; she resisted many really good opportunities to tell Gilkey what she really thought about his behavior and his attitudes, in the interest of telling the story as truly as possible.

What caught my interest at first was the idea that anyone would love books so much that he would risk prison to build a collection. And as the story developed, it became clear that Gilkey really did want to develop an impressive collection. But I got the feeling that his main goal was the “impressive” part of that collection; he wanted to be who he thought rare book collectors are.

But what John Gilkey really is, is a common criminal. Gilkey floats in and out of prison, accepting it, as Bartlett puts it, as the price he pays for the life he wants. The problem is, that life is stealing from other people. Gilkey’s a con man, talking about “getting books for free,” and railing that “I can’t afford the books I want,” and pouting about the unfairness of the world. In fact, if a bookstore employee is rude to Gilkey or otherwise offends him, they move to the top of his list as a target for his next theft.

It is easy to see why Ken Sanders, a driven, hard-working and extremely intelligent rare book dealer, would dedicate the time and effort to hunt Gilkey down and send him to prison–again, and again if necessary, and again. Gilkey, in his refusal to take responsibility for his life or do any real work, is a natural enemy to someone who works hard and invests time, money and love in his business.

But in addition to being natural enemies, in some ways Gilkey and Sanders are not so different. Both know what they want and what they’re willing to do to get it. And they both appreciate the power of rare, beautiful books. But Sanders is a guy I’d like to have as a friend and hang out with, while Gilkey’s manipulative narcissism makes my skin crawl. (That’s the biggest difference).

Any book would be different, of course, if written by a different author, but The Man Who Loved Books Too Much is that rare book (no pun intended, sorry) in which the author shapes the book not just on the page, but in the making of the story. I’m looking forward to more work from Allison Hoover Bartlett.