The Man Who Loved Books Too Much: The True Story of a Thief, a Detective, and a World of Literary Obsession

Afterword

I wrote most of this book from my home office, which overlooks a small garden of herbs my son planted several years ago, when he was nine. The only plants of his still growing are rue, a bitter herb that brings to mind the phrase “rue the day,” and purple sage, which he once dried, then gathered into pagan bundles, and with a friend burned one night to clear the air of bad spirits. Both herbs occupy pages in the Kräutterbuch, the centuries-old German botanical text that led me to this story. My son got the idea to plant medicinal herbs from a book on herbology he requested one Christmas because it was one of the subjects on Harry Potter’s reading list at Hogwarts. Like my son, almost everyone I met in the course of writing this book had been deeply inspired by stories, by books.

For three years, the Kräutterbuch, an inspiring book to be sure—but not mine to keep—sat on my desk. I often wondered, did not returning it make me a thief? Or was I a thief only as long as I kept it? Where is the line drawn? And having taken down Gilkey’s story, had I become a thief of another sort? I have come to the conclusion that I was a thief of neither the book nor Gilkey’s story: I was a borrower of a book with an indeterminate provenance, and Gilkey gave his story to me willingly. Many times did I “rue the day” I happened upon this story, and maybe I should have waved sage smoke around my office to clear the air of the bad mojo that comes with writing about crime. Yet I was always grateful that I had had the good fortune to come across such an enthralling story, one that raised questions about obsession and deception, how passions provoke us, and the ways we justify our pursuit of them. Like the rare first edition, a collector’s longtime desire, this story had me under its spell from beginning to end.

NOT LONG BEFORE this book went to press, Sanders, nominally retired “bibliodick,” had nevertheless alerted colleagues of Gilkey’s most recent theft: stealing a book from a Canadian dealer. Gilkey was not arrested. The story never ends.This book belongs to none but meFor there’s my name inside to see.To steal this book, if you should try,It’s by the throat that you’ll hang high.And ravens then will gather ’boutTo find your eyes and pull them out.And when you’re screaming“Oh, Oh, Oh!”Remember, you deserved this woe.—Warning written by medieval German scribe