On paper, Liesl Weiss has a bibliophile’s dream job. As the assistant director of the rare books library at an unnamed Toronto university, the woman at the center of Eva Jurczyk’s debut novel spends her days surrounded by priceless texts --- rare first editions, ancient works of science and mathematics, and meticulously constructed Bibles.

In reality, her work tends toward the pedestrian. The 60-something Liesl spends her days approving expense reports, coordinating shipping for recently purchased items, and shuffling money around in the budget. All the mundane administrative tasks that are too dull for the library’s larger-than-life director, Christopher Wolfe, fall to a woman who is content to remain in the background. She’s the library’s “wallpaper,” as she puts it, not the star of the show.

All that changes when Christopher suffers a stroke, and Liesl is suddenly called upon to step into his shoes while he recovers. No one, from her disgruntled, jealous colleagues to the university president to the deep-pocketed donors to Liesl herself, is pleased that she’s now the boss. Her position gets even more complicated when the library’s most recent prized acquisition --- a rare Plantin Polyglot Bible --- disappears from a locked safe in Christopher’s office.

"Where Jurcyzk excels is in crafting a portrait of an aging woman navigating a world that seems determined to ignore her."

The question of what happened to the Plantin is the core mystery of THE DEPARTMENT OF RARE BOOKS AND SPECIAL COLLECTIONS. But Jurcyzk (herself a librarian) is concerned with more than just a case of book thievery. Uncovering the culprit takes a backseat to her exploration of the library staff’s personal dramas and the institutional forces that both permitted the theft to happen and make unmasking the perpetrator a challenge. (Anyone considering a career in academia may think twice after reading about this nest of vipers.)

Liesl’s primary concern is finding the missing book, and once she accepts that it hasn’t been merely misshelved, her gut tells her to go to the police. But the glad-handing President Graber wants to protect the university’s reputation and keep demanding donors from pulling their funding. Surely, the matter can be handled internally, he tells Liesl. His opinion is echoed by several of her colleagues who are, for their own reasons, equally reluctant to involve law enforcement.

Then Miriam, another library employee, vanishes. The timing seems far from coincidental. Suspicion soon falls on the missing woman, who becomes a convenient scapegoat for those who want the matter of the missing book hushed up as quickly and quietly as possible. But Liesl doubts the shy and awkward Miriam is to blame for the theft. She wants a thorough investigation, but can’t get anyone to take her concerns seriously. The interim director finds herself stuck in an impossible position, realizing, as she tells a semi-sympathetic police officer, that she has “never had more authority and less control in my life.”

As a mystery, THE DEPARTMENT OF RARE BOOKS AND SPECIAL COLLECTIONS falls flat. The revelation of the thief’s identity is anticlimactic, and the culprit’s motivations for the crime remain opaque. Miriam’s character hangs like a shadow over much of the book, with Liesl fretting over the way she brushed off the obviously distraught woman the last time she saw her. But her disappearance, which is solved rather quickly, is ultimately connected only tangentially to the matter of the Plantin theft. A side plot about a professor investigating the true age of one of the library’s rare manuscripts is more intriguing, especially for book lovers, who will appreciate the obvious research that has gone into the novel, as well as the peek into the inner workings of a rare books library.

Where Jurcyzk excels is in crafting a portrait of an aging woman navigating a world that seems determined to ignore her. Despite her years of experience, virtually no one (including Liesl) sees her as a viable candidate to replace Christopher. She uncomplainingly shoulders the office housework her male colleagues see as beneath them and bites her tongue in moments of anger “so she could never be categorized as hysterical.” Given the casual sexism and maddening academic politics she encounters on a near-daily basis, it’s no surprise she occasionally numbs her frustration with one too many glasses of wine.

Retirement is looming, and Liesl has reached the age where she’s reflecting on the past (explored in a handful of brief flashbacks) and wondering if she made the right choices, both personally and professionally. In the end, by solving the mystery of the missing Plantin, she ends up learning more about herself, what she wants and what she values most.