This monograph is both a study of medieval books as they were understood around the period of their creation, and an exploration of their meanings over time, culminating in reflections on the rapid digitization of old or rare books and manuscripts today. Treharne’s focus is on British books, and is aimed primarily at an academic readership. She links the medieval period and the internet age by concentrating on their differing approaches to the phenomenology of the book: its status as an object which can be accessed by all of the senses. For Treharne, following Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology (to which she returns frequently), understanding a physical manuscript book requires being able to ‘see it in its entirety – immanently and from all angles open to me’ (p. 5). Her focus is on recovering a range of perspectives on manuscripts through time, based on the ways in which they were produced and used. The phenomenology of the medieval book as viewed in a Special Collections reading room lies in the reader’s whole experience of it, from the texture of each page to the marginalia it has accrued over centuries, and from its physical weight to evidence of wear and tear. Where a twenty-first-century reader may tend to concentrate on the words or images contained within a text which is likely to be a copy or reproduction, Treharne seeks to celebrate the sensory pleasures that can be found in each unique and individual book. This leads to her reservations about digitization: what is lost when such a sensory encounter is transformed into a series of images on a screen? While the internet broadens the accessibility of a medieval book, and so in a sense democratizes the experience of it, the uniqueness of the original via its appeal to the non-visual senses is fundamentally diminished. The ‘aura’ of the object, to use Walter Benjamin’s term, is dampened, and the online viewer may ultimately be left longing for the heft and smell of the physical book. This is important for understanding function, as well as aesthetic experience: online resources can make it difficult to determine scale and weight, and it can therefore be unclear, for instance, whether a particular psalter is made to be carried around for private study or kept permanently in one ceremonial location. The tensions between accessibility, preservation and phenomenological experience are the subject of the later stages of this book, but perhaps the most rewarding sections are those in which Treharne uncovers the richness of the medieval book-as-object, from her discussion of the ways in which books were made to her exploration of their spiritual resonances and authority. It is in this context that she also explores ‘libricide’, the physical deconstruction of manuscript books, often for the rare book trade. After so convincingly and evocatively showing how books were once seen as ‘living objects […] extensive artefacts that are irreducible to their component parts’ (p. 168), the notion of their being filleted and resold in lots seems as shocking to this contemporary reader as it surely would have to the monks who first laboured prayerfully over them with quills and ink.