The Man Who Stole the Gods: A True Story of War, Obsession, and a Global Art Conspiracy

by Matthew Campbell

From the Killing Fields of Cambodia to the gilded halls of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, a tale of stolen treasures and the battle to reclaim a nation’s soul.

Amidst the chaos of Cambodia's brutal genocide, a new crime wave emerged—one that would sweep across borders and entangle the world's most prestigious art institutions. Priceless treasures of the ancient Khmer Empire, the civilization that produced Angkor Wat, vanished from sacred temples, looted by smugglers and trafficked into the hands of elite collectors. At the center of it all was a man named Douglas Latchford.

Known later as "Dynamite Doug" for the ruthless methods used to extract statues from temple ruins, Latchford orchestrated one of history's most audacious cultural heists. From dusty Cambodian villages to the glittering auction houses of London and New York and institutions like the Met, he played a double game—presenting himself as an expert on Khmer art while secretly flooding the market with stolen antiquities.

In The Man Who Stole the Gods, award-winning journalist Matthew Campbell unravels the gripping story of Latchford's criminal enterprise, and a global conspiracy of greed and collusion—one that involves some of the world's most powerful museums and collectors.

A masterful blend of true crime, history, and investigative journalism, The Man Who Stole the Gods is the definitive account of one man's greed, an industry's complicity, and the fight to expose the truth and restore stolen treasures to their rightful home.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, Art, True Crime, Crime, Biography, Politics

426 pages, Kindle Edition

Published June 2, 2026

About the author

Matthew Campbell is an award-winning reporter for Bloomberg Businessweek and the author of The Man Who Stole the Gods: A True Story of War, Obsession, and a Global Art Conspiracy. His previous book, Dead in the Water—co-authored with Kit Chellel—was selected as a Book of the Year by The Economist, the Financial Times, and The Times.

Matt has reported from more than twenty-five countries on topics including crime, corruption, terrorism, economics, public health, and the environment. His work has been recognized with some of the most prestigious honors in journalism. He and Chellel won Gerald Loeb and Overseas Press Club awards for their coverage of Goldman Sachs’s business dealings with Libyan dictator Muammar al-Qaddafi, and Matt has also received National Press Club, SOPA, and SABEW awards for feature and investigative reporting.

He is a seven-time Loeb finalist in addition to his win with Chellel, and in 2022 was a finalist for a National Magazine Award for public interest reporting. Matt was also a 2025 Jonathan Logan Family Foundation Fellow at New America. Born in Canada, Matt was educated at Yale, where he graduated with a B.A. in political science, and at Oxford, where he received an M.Phil in politics. He lives in Singapore with his family.

Reviews

[Geoffrey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Review of “The Man Who Stole the Gods”

The return of Khmer antiquities to Cambodia is an outcome that deserves wholehearted celebration, and great credit is due to all those who brought it about — the prosecutors, the many people who worked tirelessly from the Cambodian side, and especially Brad Gordon, without whose dedication the positive outcome would have been impossible. The repatriation process has been, without question, a historic triumph for the world.

This review is not intended to defend Latchford’s actions — only to help set the record a little more accurately.

The book rests on a great deal of impressive research, much of it accurate and valuable (which is why the review gets 4 stars), and is very readable. It could make a great movie. Yet for all its strengths, there are certain factual omissions and interpretive choices that are apparent and reduce its value as a genuine historical description of the matters covered.

Consistently the book gives minimal agency to the Thai dealers and collectors involved, in favour of emphasis on Latchford’s role. Whilst the book acknowledges the Bangkok-based intermediaries through whom most material actually passed — particularly the dealers at River City (which was the successor to the Woeng Nakorn Kassem Market referred to in the book), they barely feature here. With Latchford not speaking Khmer, and barely speaking Thai, it is obvious that those intermediaries were essential. Latchford always publicly maintained that the majority of his collection was acquired via those dealers; the book brushes this over, as well as the documented facts of Latchford’s many acquisitions from other collectors and auction houses. There appears a pattern in the book that Thai actors are not given agency; this extends to the use of Julia Latchford’s Thai name, as well as the failure to refer to the dozens of Thai collectors and dealers who contributed to the processes described. It is convenient for the book’s narrative to omit the agency of those Thai dealers and collectors.

The looting did not begin with Cambodia’s years of conflict; it had been underway since Indochinese times. From the 1870s the French colonial state itself led the way: the naval officer Louis Delaporte removed some seventy sculptures, lintels and bas-reliefs from Angkor and other sites and shipped them to Paris, where they passed to the Trocadéro and ultimately to the Musée Guimet — whose Khmer holdings rival, if not exceed, those of the National Museum in Phnom Penh. Delaporte justified what he did as saving the works from destruction — the very rationale the book treats with such suspicion when it surfaces later. Notably, the colonial prohibition on export was declared only after such removal was well established: a reaction to a trade already in motion, not a settled rule that preceded it. The pattern persisted. By the 1940s travellers were openly acquiring antiquities to carry home to Europe. The book itself acknowledges this longer history, naming collectors and dealers active well before Cambodia’s troubles — Jim Thompson, Doris Duke and Rockefeller among them — though, as commented above, the Thai collectors and dealers who constituted the majority of the market, indeed created and sustained the market, go unmentioned. This continuity matters for a further reason: Of the works from Latchford’s collection that were ultimately returned to Cambodia, some belonged to precisely this category — pieces with long prior histories in established collections, the auction market and the trade, rather than objects freshly cut from temple walls. To present the acquisition of Khmer art as something Latchford pioneered, or as a practice that began only with the modern looting, is to omit a century of context that the historical record — and the book’s own pages — plainly supply.

The book also mischaracterises Latchford’s business interests, downplaying his substantial import-export operations and commercial interests. After buying out Weelock Marden, Latchford owned a substantial company that employed up to three hundred people, selling own brand products and holding distribution agreements from multinationals. Yet the book consistently presents art collecting (and sipping drinks by the Chidlom Place swimming pool) as Latchford’s main preoccupation. The author concedes that these businesses existed, but frames them as secondary to a “hobby” — a characterisation that is not correct, colours the portrait but of course serves the ends of the narrative.

The treatment of Cambodian law is also troubling, because so much of the book’s tone depends upon it. The author asserts as established fact that Cambodian law prohibited the removal of antiquities. Yet he himself acknowledges that Cambodians were not aware what laws existed. He (and, according to the book, the prosecutors) acknowledged that any relevant statutes on which they had to rely for their arguments were ambiguous at best and reached back to French-colonial times (when Cambodia itself did not exist). Furthermore, the intermediary transactions referred to in the book appear to have frequently taken place not in Cambodia but in Thailand; the book offers no analysis of the application of Thai law, even though Thailand was the jurisdiction in which much of this activity actually occurred — a very relevant body of law in the matter. As Sotheby’s defence lawyers astutely commented (and the author notes) no one really knew what the law was until it was later manufactured by US individuals and prosecutors. Were those involved in the trade expected to know and understand these matters? These are not trivial uncertainties. The 2012 Duryodhana case, referred to in the book — turned on precisely these questions, and generated genuine academic and legal debate that has since been examined at length in law reviews widely available online. Sotheby’s challenged what it called the government’s “novel reading of ancient Cambodian law,” and the matter was ultimately settled rather than decided, so that the central legal question was never resolved in court. All of this is complicated by the fact that any arguments (for criminal purposes) would have had to have been proved ‘beyond reasonable doubt’, that the Khmer Empire’s borders did not match those of Thailand, and that Khmer artistic styles were often distributed across the territories. The multiple legal ambiguities were very real, were litigated by sophisticated legal counsel and experts on both sides, and they all remain unresolved to this day.

The wider historical context deepens the legal difficulties. The author discusses the Cambodian state as it existed under the Khmer Rouge, whose 1975 constitution and practice expressly did away with courts, judges and laws altogether — a regime that abolished the very idea of law. Did this wipe out the French colonial laws (if ever they were effective for these purposes)? Remarkable as it now seems, that regime, and the coalition that succeeded it, as referenced by the author, retained Cambodia’s seat at the United Nations until the early 1990s. This was reality at the time. To speak with confidence about what “the law” required during a period when the internationally recognised government of Cambodia had explicitly abolished law is, at the very least, to paper over a profound complication. How could or should a correct interpretation of this knowledge have been attributed to Latchford and the dozens of others involved in the trade (most of whom would have lacked the appropriate level of legal training to analyse these matters)?

The book itself supplies further evidence of how contested these questions were. As the author records, the Metropolitan Museum, in resisting requests to return its own statues, relied on these very arguments, and pointed out that it was not until 1992 that clear repatriation rules took shape in Cambodia. And here lies the deepest problem with the book’s legal foundation: almost the entire narrative is built on the premise that these legal arguments were correct and settled. They were not. They were ambiguous and unresolved — and had those ambiguities been resolved in the art market’s favour rather than against it, much of the legal case for repatriation would have collapsed. A fairer interpretation of the market processes and perceived understandings prior to 1992 would not have supported the intended narrative.

On specific matters, too, claims are sometimes presented as fact on thin evidence. In the case of the Duryodhana, the author asserts that Latchford and Peng Seng colluded in relation to its sale — yet Latchford (who was never afforded an opportunity to defend himself) was adamant that this was not correct, and assembled evidence, including video interviews with surviving individuals involved, which created reasons to doubt the narrative presented. Few were aware that Latchford was not on speaking terms with Peng Seng due to a physical altercation at the Peng Seng shop. Spinks may have referred to matters in their correspondence, but that does not mean that those matters took place as described by Spinks.

There is, too, a deeper irony that the book only partially confronts. As the book explains, it was the American bombing of Cambodia — vast, sustained, and profoundly destabilising — that helped create the very conditions in which the Khmer Rouge could seize power, and in which the catastrophe that followed, including the looting of the country’s heritage, became possible. The forces that emptied Cambodia’s temples were set in motion long before any collector arrived, and by actors far removed from the antiquities trade. Against that background, the book overplays the involvement of one player (please refer to the comments above about the lack of agency given to Thai collectors and intermediaries), whilst underplaying what was genuine in Latchford: a real and abiding passion (obsession?) for Khmer art, for its preservation and restoration, and his (in collaboration with Bunker) the creation of a body of scholarship that was among the most thorough available in the world. Whatever else Latchford was, Latchford was also a serious and dedicated scholar, one who brought an appreciation of Khmer art into the Western imagination in a way that no one before him had achieved. A portrait that leaves this out is not merely incomplete; it misunderstands the man.

One of the most significant shortcomings of the book is the presentation of the global context and perceptions at the time. During the 1960s, 70s and 80s communism was advancing; it was widely, and genuinely feared. Many felt that it was unstoppable. People also genuinely feared global nuclear warfare, driven by the ideological division between communism and democracy. In Mao’s China the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) destroyed art and targeted artists as a matter of ideology; in the USSR artists and authors were silenced and oppressed. Then, in Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge did the same thing, expressly repudiating the culture of the past. To a collector of that era — with Angkor widely believed lost or ruined in the fighting, and its art being discarded or smashed — could collecting not have reasonably felt like rescue? Who, at that moment, could have foreseen that the tide of geopolitics would turn, that these regimes would fall, and that the same objects would one day be reclaimed as national patrimony? And all this in an era of genuine uncertainty (as referred to above) about the legalities, and where those involved in the trade rarely voiced any of the alternative views on repatriation that are so prevalent today. Indeed, repatriation to what? To the Cambodian state under the Khmer Rouge? The author too readily judges the actors of that period by the perceptions of today, with little apparent effort to stand in their shoes or to grasp what it meant to collect art deriving from geographies that often seemed bent on its destruction. The author also fails to appreciate that the word “provenance” carried a completely different meaning at that time, and almost everyone involved in trade: it referred to the object’s historical context, not its chain of ownership.

Other, smaller, inaccuracies in the book follow the same pattern (the following being examples of a few only, whereas the text contains many): in fact, Latchford only briefly lived at apartment 9A; the Chidlom Place staff did not dread him but were very fond of him; he is portrayed as ungenerous, yet he consistently supported orphanages in Cambodia and others in need; some of the numbers involved appear huge, yet it is widely alleged that US collectors can inflate valuations and sale prices (over and above the actual transaction value) with the aim of ultimately obtaining tax benefits from the US Government; the author appears to be unaware of the diagnosed memory loss which Latchford suffered for at least the last decade of his life, which no doubt complicated his ability to act as a principal in negotiations, and the ability of his intermediaries to act on his behalf or establish accurate facts. Each of these inaccuracies reflects the same tendency – a portrait drawn toward a conclusion already reached.

Furthermore, the author could have presented a more rounded and human portrait, including compassion to the man himself: What was life like for a gay man in the 1950s-70s? What is it to collect? Was Latchford obsessed, indeed addicted to, collecting? From some of the observations made by the author, addiction and obsession both appear quite possible. We all contain multitudes.

The book raises genuinely important questions about cultural heritage, and the cause it serves is a just one. However, in places it answers those questions through selective evidence and retrospective judgement. It could benefit from some more fairness and genuine historical understanding. Latchford is flattened into a villain that he and his contemporaries would not have recognised. None of this is to excuse what was done; it is only to suggest that, for a deeper historical record to be compiled, a complex man, a complex era, a complex legal analysis and a complex geopolitical backdrop should be seen as they were, rather than as it now suits us to remember them.

Finally, the book should have mentioned the Cambodian government’s awards and expressions of gratitude to various people involved, including Brad Gordon, Julia Latchford and her intermediaries.

[Ferdinand Bestofall · Rating 4 out of 5]

The lovely people at Penguin were kind enough to send me an advance copy of this upcoming release about one of the largest acts of antiquities looting in the history of modern art that details the theft and subsequent return of countless Khmer treasures during the late twentieth and early twenty first centuries. It’s a fascinating tale that starts in pre-civil war Cambodia and follows these priceless relics from their original homes in the ancient temples of the former Khmer empire to the Miami living rooms of tech billionaires and the East Asian wings of Western museums.

Elucidated from a variety of perspectives, The Man Who Stole The Gods exposes the almost unbelievable scale of robbery and negligence perpetrated by eccentric antiquities dealer Douglas Latchford and his expansive network of supposedly respectable clients, which included several high profile public figures, elite auction houses, and renowned cultural institutions. Campbell uses a compelling mix of historical context and first hand accounts to clarify not only the extent of Latchford’s transgressions, but also the profound spiritual and historical significance of the objects the British-born bandit spent a lifetime trafficking.

Thankfully, the resolution of this decades long conspiracy is equally as inspiring as the original crime is staggering, and though the path to repatriation is far from over, the tireless efforts of the lawyers, former looters, and Cambodian officials dedicated to returning Khmer artifacts to their rightful home is admirably featured here. I was especially enamored by the redemption arc of Toek Tik, the former Khmer Rouge foot soldier who disappeared into the jungle to escape the height of Pol Pot’s violent rule before becoming one of modern day Cambodia’s most prolific pillagers. His harrowing path from indoctrination and desperate thievery to government informant and champion of justice is a powerful humanist addition to the story.

Though perhaps slightly light in terms of Khmer history and modern Cambodian political context, I can appreciate that this was not Campbell’s focus and he still includes enough background to make the cultural importance of the antiquities in question clear. If anything, I’ll take these missing pieces as motivation to learn more elsewhere and tip my hat to Campbell for introducing me to a part of the world I’m shamefully unfamiliar with.

[Renee Wilmeth · Rating 4 out of 5]

So much I didn't know about the Khmer empire, Cambodian art, or the modern history of temple art! A really interesting book detailing the network of modern day tomb raiders and shady art dealers who worked during the 1970s-early 2000s to systematically remove, illegally, an entire culture's worth of Cambodian temple sculptures. And the attorneys, prosecutors, and art experts who've worked tireless to have most of it repatriated from dealers, museums, and private collectors.

[Reed · Rating 5 out of 5]

After reading The Man Who Stole the Gods, I'll never again walk through the Metropolitan Museum of Art—or any museum displaying antiquities from distant lands—without a more skeptical eye.

Journalist Matthew Campbell tells the riveting true story of Douglas Latchford, who sought to emulate the legendary Jim Thompson in Bangkok as a titan of business and collector of Southeast Asia's finest antiquities. His opportunity came in the wake of the Khmer Rouge's reign of terror, when Cambodia's chaos fueled the systematic looting of sacred temple sites surrounding Angkor Wat.

Campbell's meticulous reporting transforms what could have been a straightforward true-crime story into a fascinating exploration of greed, war, and the long struggle to reclaim a nation's cultural heritage.

The heroes of this story are an American lawyer living in Phnom Penh, U.S. law enforcement investigators in New York, and, ironically, Cambodia's most prolific looter, whose unlikely cooperation helped return priceless treasures to their rightful homeland.

A must-read for anyone fascinated by ancient art, archaeology, or history. More than that, it's a sobering reminder to ask where the masterpieces on museum pedestals and behind glass truly came from.

[Diane Jeske · Rating 5 out of 5]

An excellent example of narrative nonfiction. The author tells the story of Douglas Lankford, an Englishman living in Thailand who becomes obsessed with ancient Cambodian art. Langford takes advantage of the chaos of civil war and the genocide of the Khmer Rouge to pay desperate Cambodians to loot their ancient temples. He then sold many of the works for large sums. The author then relates how American agents and others pursued Lankford and eventually repatriated many of the artifacts. Compelling story of obsession, greed, and callous disregard for the cultural heritage of a people undergoing immense suffering. The complicity of institutions such as the MET is utterly shameful.

[Jenny · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book assumes that the reader knows nothing about Cambodia, and spends a lot of time recounting the war, the Khmer Rouge, Pol Pot, etc. I concede that it is well-researched, and it is necessary to have that backdrop to set up this story, but I think people who are already familiar with the context will be anxious to get to the titular theft of antiquities and skip the padding.

(Side note--I highly recommend the 1984 film "The Killing Fields" for more background. Second side note--I was fortunate to visit Angkor Wat and surrounding sites in 2017--one of the most spectacular places on Earth--and was impressed with the Cambodian government's preservation efforts, including tightly regulating tourist access.)

[Krista | theliterateporcupine · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was such an Engrossing and Well-researched listen about modern day issues. I don't know much about the art world but I'm shocked that looting other countries' art then wanting them to buy back their heritage is still ongoing. I also didn't know anything about Cambodian history so this entire book was Eye-opening. This is a must-read for those interested in history, foreign policy, art, museum studies, and preservation.

[James Wilkinson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Extremely interesting and exceeded my expectations

[Ella Ru · Rating 2 out of 5]

First hundred pages very interesting, then not

[Suzy Epstein · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a fascinating but infuriating book about a ring of looters and smugglers who stole some of the greatest works of sculpture created by Cambodians during their golden age- the tenth through the twelfth centuries - which culminated in the building of the great temples at the Angor Wat Complex. The book focuses primarily on the activities of Douglas Latchford, a British ex-patriot, who started his life in Cambodia as an exporter-importer but soon fell in love with ancient Cambodian sculpture and started acquiring it for his own collection. He then realized that there was a lucrative market for these masterpieces in the museum world and among extremely wealthy private collectors so he organized an army of looters and middle man to move the looted works onto the art market. As a result, he became very wealthy and many of the works he stole ended up in great art museums and private collections. The book highlights how his actions were finally uncovered by a group of dedicated lawyers whose efforts resulted in the return of many of those masterpieces to Cambodia, where they can now be enjoyed by the Cambodian people.

[MicheleReader · Rating 4 out of 5]

As the Cambodian civil war raged in the 1960s and 1970s, ancient statues were being looted from remote, thousand-year-old Khmer temples. These artifacts ended up way in the homes of wealthy art collectors and renowned museums including the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Douglas Latchford, born in India to British parents, was at the forefront of selling these pieces. After moving to Bangkok, Latchford hired a band of impoverished locals to extract Khmer antiquities, including Buddhist and Hindu gods, which they often severed above the statues' bases, leaving their feet behind.

Journalist Matthew Campbell tells this remarkable story in The Man Who Stole the Gods. When the U.S. government began investigating possible "blood antiquities" from Cambodia, it marked the beginning of Latchford's unraveling, who had long been lauded for his role in preserving Khmer Empire art. Toek Tik, a former Khmer Rouge child soldier and one of the looters, played a crucial role in revealing the truth about Latchford, particularly when he identified the precise locations where he had taken some of the invaluable art before it was illegally exported, including the original pedestals with the feet still intact. These feet would soon be matched with some of Latchford's most renowned pieces. Another significant figure is American attorney Bradley Gordon, based in Phnom Penh, who represents Cambodia's restitution efforts. It's a captivating story that will leave you wanted to learn more. You will never look at museum antiquities the same way again.

Many thanks to Portfolio Books | Penguin Random House for providing a copy of this book.

4.25 stars.

[Sao Phal Niseiy · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a Cambodian, I found the book both enlightening and deeply enriching. The author offers valuable insight into how the illicit trade in Cambodian antiquities operated, exposing the roles played not only by powerful dealers such as Douglas Latchford but also by seemingly respectable yet ethically questionable figures, including art historian Emma C. Bunker.

The powerful dynamic is when these two worlds—the commercial network of antiquities dealers and the scholarly authority of respected academics— work in tandem. They cultivated trust, built reputations, and forged influential connections with authorities and officials while enjoying privileges that few others could access.

That is why the book makes an important contribution to tracing Cambodia's sacred artifact objects that can be regarded as part of the nation's soul and supports ongoing efforts to return these cultural treasures to their rightful home.

As the book points out, the exploitation and trafficking of Cambodia's cultural heritage during years of war is, in many ways, comparable to Sierra Leone's blood diamond trade in the 1990s. In both cases, conflict created opportunities for individuals to profit from a nation's suffering and loss.

Although the devastation of Cambodia and the ransacking of its cultural heritage occurred decades ago, the nation's ability to heal will depend, in part, on the willingness of countries and institutions that benefited from this trade to return these stolen and deeply revered artifacts.

[Sara Soto · Rating 5 out of 5]

While the historical context is complex, one thing is not. There are certain civilizations that are not deemed of respect when it comes to their preservation. Cambodian temples have historically been looted leaving empty structures. Imagine visiting the Vatican and it's just the structure, all else is lost... unthinkable. Yet normal for the equivalent of many civilizations.
The removal of artifacts is not an act of protection, it's an act of greed from the individual to institutions, to an entire industry. Owning these as tokens is vanity, true passion and respect for them would look like and effort to protect their existence in their context.
The ending phrase gave me chills, summarizing this idea.

Another though through this story was that walking though a museum’s ancient or cultural wings will never replace seeing these in their original spot. The richness of their context can’t be portrayed by a descriptive card. It’s incredibly sad that we have been lead to believe that having easy access to them is more valuable than respecting their origin.

[Lesley · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Man Who Stole the Gods is an overview of the theft and eventual return of Cambodian antiquities. Like any good story, there are some major villains (Pol Pot, Doug, museum curators who knowingly purchased stolen antiquities and forged documents to get away with it). But there’s at least some kind of satisfying ending.

The most notable thing to understand is that this book is a straightforward recitation of historical facts. There’s nothing particularly wrong with that, but unless you are like me and very invested in tracing provenance, you may find it boring. But for history nerds, this is really well written and documented.

The most I can say is that if you read the summary and think it’s for you, it lives up to what it offers.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an advanced copy of the book.

[Matteo · Rating 4 out of 5]

As informative as it is infuriating.

The second half definitely meanders a bit, or perhaps it’s just not as interesting to read about complex legal processes as it is to read about international conspiracies to use the turmoil of a genocidal civil war to steal cultural artefacts and sell them to western billionaires and institutions.

Either way, this book has it all and will have you enthralled while also making you want to beat a museum curator to death with your bare hands.

Speaking of which, rot in hell Henry Kissinger.

Great read :)

[Robert Clancy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yes, there was an arch-villain in this true story -- Douglas Latchford, an art thief who stole hundreds of priceless Cambodian antiquities. However, his accomplices were equally as vile -- the gallery owners, internationally renowned auction houses, and prestigious international museums that bought these looted artifacts. This story encompasses the years of Pol Pot and The Killing Fields, and child soldiers who executed innocent people and looted ancient antiquities for cash -- provided by Latchford. There are many guilty parties in this story, not just a single man.

[Jeff Walderman · Rating 5 out of 5]

what Cambodia is about

Cambodia is a forgotten country. No one really knows what it is about until you read a historical documentary such as this. My wife had been trying to get me interested in going to Vietnam and Cambodia for many years but I had little interest. Now my interest has peaked. I can’t wait to see these mind blowing artifacts in person. Knowing where they have been, the journey they have taken, the money they have generated and then their return to their homeland. Awesome story. Very highly recommended.

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received an ARC of this book and found it really interesting to learn about the looting of the temples and what happened with the stolen art. Part of what I liked was that the author gave so many sides of the story, including the looters, the dealers who bought from them, the collectors and museums that purchased the art, and the people trying to track items down and get them repatriated and perhaps prosecute people who knowingly trafficked in looted art.

[Richard Janzen · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was a unique experience to start reading this book in the midst our touring places like Koh Ker and Angkor Wat. Could imagine the context of the places that the treasures were taken from. As I started the 2nd half of the book which deals with some specific items that have now been returned to Cambodia, I was able to see these items in the National Museum of Cambodia in Phnom Penh. Added so much, and helped me to get more involved in the story I was reading.

[Max Elliot Chen · Rating 4 out of 5]

i am really getting into narrative non-fiction at the minute and i think this is a great way to wet your toes. The start was a little slow and the “conspiracy” is a bit oversold but it’s a great book nonetheless. This is probably more appropriately framed as the harms of colonialism and the predatory nature of the post colonial west but I can see how that might be too political a take. Toek Tik’s story in the book was by far the most interesting and I wish there was more about the Cambodians or Thais that played a role in this (though perhaps little is known)

[Linda Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

4+ stars

This book was a highly interesting reporting on the looting and subsequent repatriation of Khymer objects from Cambodia.

I appreciated the author's putting the looting into context of the Khymer Rouge genocide. It doesn't surprise me how corrupt the art world is but it made the repatriation all the more sweeter.

[Michael Todd · Rating 3 out of 5]

I valued this book and it certainly was a good read. However, I think there was a little too much sensationalised license taken and a lack of understanding of the historical context. Good read fairly well researched… Well written but a little unbalanced.

[Nelly · Rating 5 out of 5]

incredible read

I REALLY recommend this book: it reads like a thriller. The amount of research that went into it is astonishing: Matthew Campbell himself is an archeological hero for bringing this story to light for the general public. BRAVO.

[Jae · Rating 5 out of 5]

Good book, but…. The audiobook needs some post production. I think the reader is a bad choice- why the stuffy upper crust Brit? Also his voice cuts out every time there is a break, every chapter and just pause. Still it was a very good book

[Jen St · Rating 4 out of 5]

I already knew a fair amount about Cambodian art looting in the late 20th century, but this book definitely broadened my knowledge. Also, it's written by a journalist, so it's very readable. I recommend! It also has excellent endnotes for those who want to access more sources.

[Zeke Faux · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Man Who Stole the Gods is both an archaeological adventure to rival David Grann’s Lost City of Z, and a riveting exposé of the plunder that still fills the world’s top art museums.

[Marjorie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Compelling narrative nonfiction about international art thievery spanning decades. Would recommend the audiobook format.

[Dianne Landry · Rating 4 out of 5]

Of all the countries I've visited Cambodia is my favourite. Reading this book about how they were able to get their historical artifacts returned to them was really interesting.

[Ellen Finnie · Rating 3 out of 5]

The story behind this was genuinely fascinating but I did not enjoy the writing at all booooo

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Cambodian history chapters were great but oops I didn’t care as much about the art chapters.