The writer must have refused to listen to his editor, or he had an editor who wouldn't stand up to his client, or simply was not up to the task of editing. The book is a fine example of the writer and editor not collaborating effectively on organizing matters and defining precise thoughts the author wants to communicate.
Early in my career as a lawyer, I conducted investigations for a regulatory agency that licensed broadcast stations in the U.S. and enforced laws and regulations designed to enhance "the public interest, convenience, and necessity. I became so enamored of investigations and what made for a successful one that I considered, at one time, forming a company that conducted internal corporate investigations emphasizing corporate financial matters. That company was never formed, but my interest in how successful investigations are conducted and the competencies required to complete them never wavered.
Some years after leaving my employment as an investigator with the government, I became interested in art history and, particularly, art fraud--forgeries, thefts, sharp dealing and practices. I don't think I ever passed up reading a book or article on that subject, and that is the reason I read "Hot Art", a way to improve my knowledge and, partly, to confirm what I already knew.
My favorite library for this was Powell's City of Books in Portland, Oregon close to my home where many Sunday mornings found me exploring art and the forgeries of art.
The book does contain some important and interesting information, but it happened to be the second book in succession I've read that lacked careful and intense editing. Like the book I had read just before it, the author had conducted interviews with a half dozen or more individuals involved in the private or public detection of art theft and art fraud. Half or more of the book simply was repeating those interviews, with a side of narrative, explanation, or unnecessary comment. Every minute detail of meeting or having tea with an interviewee found its way into this book.
Consider this passage near the end of the book:
"Ellis was his usual self: quiet, observant, level headed. He greeted me warmly and asked me who else I was interviewing while in London. I mentioned Julian Radcliff and Paul [the art thief].
"You're seeing Paul. . . . So, he's out of prison, is he?
"Ellis mulled it over. 'I didn't realize that. . . Please tell Paul hello for me. Tell him let bygones be bygones."
On that same page,
"Midway through our conversation we left the Wallace and walked a few blocks to a small pub, where Ellis bought me a pint of Tribute, a beer made by a brewery his family started almost two hundred years ago."
Who cares, really, that you had a pint? Who cares even less what the name of the beer was? Does it matter to your story that the old Bill says to say hello to a thief he helped send down. Besides leaving out commas where they belong (see, above) can you imagine working your way through 342 pages of this? If their editors won't do it, then writers must learn to be ruthless with their words and sparing in their use.
I kept reading because there were some things I wanted to learn, and there were a few items hidden in the morass of unneeded prose. His brief review of "market overt", a 13th century English principle of the common law, was enlightening and I almost felt badly that the House of Lords had repealed it.
It happens to be a more important concept than the treatment given it--it allowed the market place in stolen goods to thrive because sales taking place at specified markets in London "between sunrise and sunset" (Bermondsey being one) were protected from prosecution, but also permitted legal title to ownership to pass. More of this, and less about the beer he drank would have made for a better book as would better sense of organizing material identify what it was he really wanted to the readers.
Reading a book not well edited is tedious, and any messages there can easily be lost.