Though Rosenbloom supports the preservation and maintenance of anthropodermic books, Dark Archives also covers arguments to the contrary, such as those espoused by Princeton University Library senior librarian Paul Needham.

Rosenbloom is one of the key figures in the death-positive movement; her philosophical affiliation with open discussions of mortality and opposition to death taboos is considered a core influence on her approach to anthropodermic books.

[8] The origin of peptide mass fingerprinting permitted conclusive testing and became the gold standard method; the first book confirmed through its use was Des destinées de l'ame by the French philosopher Arsène Houssaye, held in the Houghton Library of Harvard University.

Her surprise to discover the practice was associated with "respectable" medical professionals, rather than the Nazis or serial killers as she had assumed, led her to research the phenomenon of anthropodermic bibliopegy in greater depth.

In the second chapter, Rosenbloom examines commonly held myths related to the production of anthropodermic books, such as their association with the French Revolution; contemporary rumor suggested revolutionaries created human-leather tanneries at Meudon that produced clothing and other objects made or bound with human skin.

She refers to the example of erotica; the possibility of erotic books being authentically bound in human skin was dismissed until the identification of "a nineteenth-century printing of a sixteenth-century French BDSM allegorical poem".

The last genuine anthropodermic book discussed in Dark Archives is a private collector's copy of "The Gold-Bug", Edgar Allan Poe's breakthrough novelette, thought to be once owned by John Steinbeck.

Some of these figures disagreed with Rosenbloom's attitude towards books bound in human skin, including Paul Needham, then the head librarian of the Scheide Library at Princeton University.

A book collector, Hough took the skin of an impoverished young Irish émigré named Mary Lynch at her autopsy, using it to bind several significant publications on reproduction and gynecology.

[1][19] The Los Angeles Review of Books discussed Rosenbloom's level of research into the figures around anthropodermic bibliopegy, describing it as humanizing objects that are otherwise treated as "grotesque curiosities".

Working from her own experience as one of the curators involved in the maintenance of an anthropodermic book, Jacobson praised Rosenbloom's "curiosity and empathy" while highlighting the bioethical considerations she raised.

He expanded upon the recency of the "era of consent in medicine" and the long history of patient exploitation, complimenting Rosenbloom's efforts to "compel [doctors] to reckon with that arc, and to try to bend it more urgently in an ethical direction".

[25] Diane Dias De Fazio, editor of RBM: A Journal of Rare Books, Manuscripts, and Cultural Heritage,[26] described it as written for a "general, albeit bookish, audience".

[13][23][24] NPR deemed the book a "titillating Halloween read" that combined "bloody thrills with historical fact and ethical nuance", but criticised the in-depth discussion of the legal status of corpses as overly dry and "one of the few moments where Rosenbloom loses sight of her readership".

[20] Sheilah Ayers at the University of Lethbridge wrote in the Canadian Journal of Academic Librarianship that Dark Archives was "accessible, engaging, and incredibly intriguing", but highlighted how Rosenbloom's death-positive stance reached the point of being "arguably pro-books bound in human skin".

She discussed how the work was able to recruit and represent several points of view on the topic while still focusing on its author's, and argued that this was a positive, as it prevented tonal inconsistency or undermining Rosenbloom's credentials.

[24] Carolyn Sullivan at Emerging Library & Information Perspectives wrote a generally positive review, particularly taking note of the book's substantial bibliography and diversity of research sources, but warned that readers may be "divided" on the appropriateness of its relatively casual style.

Sullivan argued that Rosenbloom's "appreciation" for the subject matter dominated the work, alienating it from more sensitive readers, and instead recommended the author's appearance on the science podcast Ologies for a "less emotionally freighted introduction" to the history of books bound in human skin.

Shortly after the book's release, The Week recommended it for fans of true crime,[27] and Wired described it as an unexpected "delight" that "manages to be life-affirming amidst all the ethical debate and stinky tannery mishaps".