The Note #2

Deliberately Boring, Bordering On Snobbish

Have you noticed how austere French book covers are? Compared to American or English ones, it’s like sitting Steve Jobs next to Dolly Parton.

What does it say about the French? Yes, of course, that we* have great taste.

And that we’re a touch pretentious. If you think about it, our books reflect exactly what our fashion does. It’s confident, deliberately boring, bordering on snobbish. I don’t need to overdress; I wouldn’t want to distract you from my fascinating self—that’s what our books say. I don’t need to attract you with colours and embossings and gold foils. I am great literature.

Slightly daunting, yes —when you’re in front of one of these books, you don’t know if you’re up to the literary task. The book’s looking at you like a French actress would: “I am worth it. But are you worthy of me?”

Out of vengeance, you might buy it just to show off.

(And then it would sit on the shelf, nagging you for the rest of your life).

—

But isn't that exactly why we love the French? They're* annoying, and we ask for more. I find these covers beautiful—and there is absolutely nothing that makes me drool more than a good old collection of read (please!), cornered (aaaah!), and annotated (oh yes!) Gallimard, Les Editions Du Seuil, or (super droooool) Les Editions De Minuit books. They can nag me as much as they want.

*Note where I associate, and then dissociate with "The French" :)