A book that doesn't really make sense to review through the usual "I liked it / I didn't like it" lens, because the facts of history almost never please anyone, but that doesn't change the history itself. And the story Fennell tells is that of the largest cultural looting operation humanity has ever seen, so let's just say I didn't have fun reading it, but I used it to think even more critically about the past.
One of the things I appreciated the most is the "from the point of view of the objects" approach. It's the smartest structural choice of the book because the history told through the objects is the history of those who watched their own cultural heritage uprooted and taken elsewhere. Each object is a testimony speaking for those who can no longer speak, and Fennell gives voice to these silent testimonies in a way that no academic treatise ever could.
I wasn't aware of, and was appalled by, the paradox that keeps coming back throughout the book, the one about the British Museum being unable to return anything. To me this seems the political heart of this book. The British Museum Act of 1963 forbids the museum from disposing of the objects in its collection (with very few exceptions), and this law has become the perfect shield the institution hides behind. The logic is as simple as it is hypocritical: if they returned anything, they would implicitly admit the theft, and with it all the devastation, destruction and death the British Empire caused to entire peoples and cultures. They would also create a precedent, and open Pandora's box, for any other institution to return artifacts that are not theirs. Not returning, on the other hand, is presented as a neutral technical constraint, almost as if the museum were powerless in front of its own collection. It's a masterpiece of institutional hypocrisy: I create a law, I use it to avoid doing what I don't want to do, and then I blame the law itself. A double slap in the face for all those who saw pieces of their own culture stolen from them.
Something I enjoyed is that each chapter is self-contained, which is handy if you read it in bits, but I also must admit that it takes away from the book the chance to build a more organic analysis of the colonial system as a whole. Fennell isn't a historian and doesn't claim to be one, fair enough, but precisely for this reason the book misses the opportunity to connect the objects into a broader thesis about the political economy of colonial plunder. It remains a great entry point into the topic, though.
I see it as a necessary book, written in the right style for a very heavy subject, and one whose reading makes everyone much more aware about the past. And that, in the end, is what a good history book should do.