I didn't know what to expect when I began this book, a charming little work on books, bookshelves, and libraries. I picked it out of the Writing section at the library, half out of curiosity and half because it didn't look too long and it fit the spur of the moment book-reading-touching-collecting-sniffing obsession I was having. I felt first and foremost while reading this book relief that my own bibliomania is not so intense nor so methodical as that of the author. I am torn as to how to respond on completing it actually. I would not instantly say it is a life-changing work, but on reflection, it has certainly affected me, if only a little. I realized this as I was reading an old collection of Eliza Cook's poetry this afternoon. While before I had merely read the poems and thought to myself 'how nice,' now I find myself noticing the idiosyncrasies of the book as an individual copy, for example how it has no publication date, being too old for that, and the two previous signatures on the first page, the most recent of which includes a year, 1938. This book also introduces the notion that a man's library (also his organizational methods or lack thereof of said library) can reveal things about him as well. Phantoms on the Bookshelves, I believe has reinstilled my regard for secondhand bookshops and previously owned books, as well as the mere act of owning books - even copies of books. Oh my! While (I hope) my bibliomania has not been spurred on to absurd heights, Phantoms on the Bookshelves has certainly solidified my appreciation for the printed work and reaffirmed my bibliophilia in ways that simply reading books has not.