Parfait, 2 and 3
If you love books and/or zines and/or fashion analysis and/or fancy binding and/or letter press and/or library search results and/or math theory and/or French films and literature and/or Red Pandas and/or original illustrations and/or cookie recipes and/or whatever other crazy things are competing to get out of book artist Emily K. Larned's head and fingers, then you will find something to go gaga over in her zine series Parfait.
I must warn you that the following review is as gushy a thing as I have ever written. If the idea of my blasé self losing control like that makes you uncomfortable, do not read on!
When we're not ambivalent, how staggeringly particular we can be. #2, 2005, p. 76.
At the very same booksale you also bought Madame Bovary. You love this book. It is due for a reread. But then upon close inspection later, you find that this edition was "edited" by the translator! Jesus. There's five critical essays tacked onto the end in addition to the lengthy introduction and yet the translator actually took AWAY from the original text? Oh, I'm sorry, did YOU Mr. Translator labour seven hours a day on one paragraph like our pal Gustave? You didn't? Then don't fucking EDIT his work.
You become really rather irrationally upset about this. Like it was morally wrong of these books to be donated to the library booksale so some poor soul such as yourself would buy these lousy editions, ignorant of their inauthenticity. Like, no doubt the person who originally owned these books was duped by them too, and so got rid of them by donation. When in fact you kind of feel like they should have been THROWN OUT. They're broken. They're malfunctioning books. So you're going to throw them out, right? If that is what you think their deserved fate to be? Trash? Book in trash? Um, gosh. Of course not. You'll just donate them... to the Salvation Army. What sort of horrible person would throw out a book? #3, 2007, p. 67