In his piece on the destruction of Philip Larkin's journals, he raises the insoluble problem of "how morally corrupt is an artist allowed to be before we feel justified in turning our backs towards their work?". Eric Gill was an incestuous paedophile but his works still adorn public buildings in Britain. Gekoski says he can never look at them the same way knowing what he now knows about Gill, but he took issue with a librarian who turned down, for moral reasons, the chance to acquire three volumes of flagellation material compiled by T.H. White, who wrote The Sword in the Stone.
The book raises weighty issues but Gekoski, whose background is a winning mixture of academia and book dealing, has as good an eye for a joke as he has for a rare volume.
His account of how he tried to offload a Nabokov first edition procured for, then rejected by a vulgar Russian oligarch is a little gem of wry humour.
Though scholarly, he does not mince his words and his piece on the cavalier attitude towards Iraq's heritage by the "indefatigably loathsome Rumsfeld", the US Secretary of Defence, boils with righteous indignation.
There is also a sense of outrage in his chapter on a New Zealand art theft, the lifting of Colin McCahon's Urewera Mural from the visitor centre at Lake Waikaremoana.
Here, his sympathy lies firmly with Tuhoe in their anger at the injustices they have suffered, while he is grateful the picture was returned. Gekoski is no stranger to New Zealand and his account of the McCahon heist is a fine piece of balanced reporting.
At least we still have the McCahon, albeit slightly battered, but Liverpool never got its cathedral by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Like most of the stories here, that is a matter for sincere regret.