(Accouplements : une rubrique où l’Oreille tendue s’amuse à mettre en vis-à-vis deux œuvres, ou plus, d’horizons éloignés.)
Et vous, vos jaquettes, vous en faites quoi ?
Block, Lawrence, The Burglar Who Painted Like Mondrian. A Bernie Rhodenbarr Mystery, New York, HarperCollins, 2005. Édition numérique. Édition originale : 1983.
«Like so many non-collectors, he’d disposed of the dust jackets of most of his books, unwittingly chucking out the greater portion of their value in the process. There are any number of modern firsts worth, say, a hundred dollars with a dust jacket and ten or fifteen dollars without it. Onderdonk was astonished to learn this. Most people are.»
Baker, Nicholson, U and I. A True Story, New York, Random House, 1991, 179 p.
«For Christmas my mother gave me Picked-Up Pieces, a collection that included the golf essay that had cracked her up a few years earlier : she said she liked the cover a lot, which was a wide-angle black-and-white shot of [John] Updike in his front yard holding out a handful of fallen leaves. I was secretly disappointed by the gift, because I wanted to own paperback fiction, not hardback collection of book reviews, and I threw out the jacket because I wanted the hardback books I did have on my shelf to look more like the books in university libraries, which, unlike the embarrassingly crinkly tenants of public institutions, weren’t shelved with their jackets on» (p. 29).
