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Sacrifice the book as an offering to the Anime god.
You place the book on the holy altar and it is instantly consumed in holy flame. Unfortunately the Anime god rejects your offering and it is spat back at you, still flaming.
You dance about wildly, smacking your flaming face with the flaming book in an effort to put out the flames that just won't stop. Finally the flames go out and you hold the charred remains of the book in your hands. It's quite cool, and seemed to have become even thicker and heavier than before, if that's possible.
You hold it up, and now you see fine lines, finer than the finest penstrokes on the cover, front and back: Lines of fire that seemed to form the letters of a flowing script. They shone piercingly bright, and yet remote, as if from a great depth.
"I cannot read the fiery letters." you say to nobody in particular in a quavering voice.
"No," says Gandalf, "But I can. The letters are Elvish, an ancient mode, but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. But this in the common Tounge is what is said, close enough: One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."
"Who..." you say at last, "The heck are you?"
"I am Gandoolf Foogrey, and that before you is the Ring of Power, once held by the Dark Lord Sauron."
"You're off you chum."
"If you intend by that utilization of an obscure colloquialism to imply that my sanity is not up to scratch or to indeed deny the existance of the Dark Lord Sauron, I shall have to ask you to step outside!"