Mr. Basbanes combines a scholar’s research with a reporter’s crisp style and skills for investigation, interview and observation. No new ground is broken in these works, but an amazing amount of existing ground is covered, gathered and presented in a coherent fashion. This is good reportage, encompassing the known biblio-universe, and it makes engaging reading for anyone with even a passing interest in books.

The first half of Splendor covers how written records (in stone inscriptions, papyrus and silk scrolls, codexes, paper and books) contribute to our knowledge and understanding of the past. If these records hadn’t been preserved, our knowledge of history, and of ourselves, would be riddled with gaps. Despots and madmen have sought to create such lacunae, to bias posterity and alter the future in their favor, by annihilating whole stratums of written records. Even stone inscriptions and steles, which seem imperishable, can be censored and expurgated from the historical record just like a book printed on paper.

Basbanes recounts the history of biblioclasms, and no culture or age is exempt: Rome annihilated Carthage and its culture; China, where paper was invented, saw successive emperors burn records of their predecessor; in Mexico, Spanish conquistadores destroyed Mayan codices to eliminate the indigenous “pagan” religion. The comparatively civilized 20th century is a nightmare alley of book destruction: World Wars I and II, the Holocaust, the totalitarian purges in Soviet Russia and China, the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, the Balkan civil wars, all resulted in widespread destruction of books. Resisting such onslaughts are people like the members of the Oneg Shabbos, a group of scholars and ordinary citizens interred in the Warsaw Ghetto, that created a secret archive of books, documents and artifacts that would survive their extermination at the hands of the Nazis. They imbue the word conservator with gravity and heroism.

In the latter part of the book, Basbanes surveys contemporary issues, including the impact of digital technology on scholarship, the durability of computers and digital media and the costs and problems of preserving printed material. He offers an update on Nicholson Baker’s enduring ire at library deaccessions and his progress in saving old American newspapers (which Baker chronicled in his controversial book Double Fold). Nobody yet has developed an adequate solution to the triple-headed library hydra: lack of money, lack of storage space and cross-purposes (to be an archive or to provide access to information?). These are just a few questions inspired by Splendor, which should have collectors, librarians, authors and lovers of books debating the crucial issues we’re facing at the dawn of the 21st century.

“The whole point of collecting is the thrill of acquisition,” writes Baxter. However, like most book people, his pursuits are driven by his love of reading as much as by his desire to acquire the physical object. We learn his story two ways: via tales of an adolescent love affair with science fiction, and then through an account of his adult infatuation with Graham Greene, a collecting impulse sparked by his London flea market purchase of Greene’s children’s book The Little Horse Bus. “Each step in the collection of a title takes you closer to the author,” writes Baxter, but the idea of finality scares him. As he nears completion of his Greene library, he abruptly auctions it off. Selling it returns Baxter to what he loves best—the hunt—choosing instead authors “less easily exhausted,” such as Edward Gorey and Lafcadio Hearn.

From the escalating importance of dust jackets to the dynamic world of eBay auctions to anthropodermic (human skin) bindings, Baxter is insightful while not getting bogged down on technical information—this is no soup-to-nuts guide. Instead, he illuminates topics with a personal anecdote, explaining, for instance, the history of bookplates while revealing his own efforts to have Expressionist painter Francis Bacon design him one.

This approach works well as long as the reader’s interests parallel Baxter’s. While his stories of modern literary authors are fascinating, his excursions into science fiction will be hard to bear for all but the most dedicated fans. His willingness to share personal opinions and details is also a mixed bag. He hilariously declares that “restoring a library book to collectable condition is like trying to return a Kentucky Fried Chicken to the state of health where it can lay an egg,” but his reminiscences of orgies will leave the reader wondering if A Pound of Paper was shelved in the proper section of the bookstore.

In the end, Baxter’s captivating description of the thrill of the book search is what makes A Pound of Paper an exciting addition to any shelf. Many readers will relate to the sense of anticipation as Baxter prowls high and low for the next piece of his collection, explaining that there are always “more midnight meetings on street corners…more surprises in musty cellars” and more to be “learned about the intricate world of books.”