Marguerite de Navarre, Louise Labé, Mesdames de Sévigné, Lafayette et de Stael, Sand, Colette, Nemirovsky, Beauvoir, Duras, Yourcenar, Sarraute... Women have left their mark on the history of literature, which has not always done them justice...
First edition of the theatrical adaptation.
Contemporary binding in red half morocco with corners, spine with five raised bands framed by gilt fillets, adorned with double gilt panels and decorative tooling, gilt fillets framing the marbled paper boards, combed paper endpapers and pastedowns, combed edges.
A few stains to the covers, a crisp and clean copy, free of foxing.
Signed autograph inscription by George Sand to the actor Fresne : « à monsieur Fresne, souvenirs affectueux. G. Sand. »
Fresne had performed in her play Molière at its premiere at the Théâtre de la Gaîté in 1851.
First edition, with no mention of deluxe paper copies.
Half red marbled sheep binding, spine faded with four raised bands decorated with a gilt floral motif, light rubbing to the bands, marbled paper boards, marbled endpapers and pastedowns, sprinkled edges, front cover preserved, modest contemporary binding.
Rare signed and inscribed copy by the author Colette Andris to Jean Blavet.
Novelist, music-hall performer and actress, a forgotten and short-lived muse of the Roaring Twenties music-hall, Colette Andris (the pseudonym of Pauline Toutey) managed to write three novels between 1929 and 1935, with a lot of autobiographical elements. She would die in the prime of life the following year. Born into an academic family, she quickly gave up the administrative and teaching careers that awaited her in order to become a nude dancer and, like her heroine Miss Nocturne, to perform in the Parisian music halls.
Autograph letter signed by Marguerite Yourcenar, dated 23 January 1957, two pages in black ink on a single sheet, with the original envelope included.
On two densely written pages, Yourcenar confides her editorial frustrations to her close friend, the painter Elie Grekoff, recounting the blasphemous act of her publisher, who had torn in "en deux ou plutôt en quatre" [‘two or rather four’] the dedicated copy of her poetry collection Les Charités d’Alcippe (1956) and returned it to her by post. She discusses joint projects with Grekoff and requests that he accept the profits from a work he illustrated for her.
Yourcenar writes from the United States, which she joined in 1939 with her companion Grace Frick, then a professor of British literature in New York. From 1950 onwards, they settled on Mont Déserts Island, bordering Canada, in a house named Petite-Plaisance, which she mentions in the handwritten letterhead. Amidst the wild nature and crystalline lakes, she would write there some of her most celebrated works, including The Abyss. Through the text, we catch fleeting images of the author’s reclusive existence: « Ici, travail abrutissant, favorisé par les grands froids, qui font qu'on ne sort qu'un bref moment, ou quand on y est obligé. Correction d'épreuves, correspondance en retard depuis des mois, traduction, et enfin le livre en train [...] les journaux arrivent très régulièrement, et si vite, dans le cas du Monde, que j'apprends par lui les nouvelles de New York avant d'avoir le temps d'aller au village acheter le New York Times » [“The work here is grueling, compounded by the bitter cold, so that one ventures outside only for a short while, or out of necessity. Proofreading, months of overdue letters, translation, and finally the book underway […] the newspapers come so promptly and consistently, particularly Le Monde, that I hear the New York news from it before I even manage to go to the village and buy the New York Times”.]
The most poignant passage of the letter concerns her stormy dealings with her publisher Curvers, regarding her neoclassical-spirited poetry collection Les Charités d'Alcippe. Yourcenar recounts the publisher’s unforgivable act, enraged by her reproaches over the premature release of the collection: "Toute la légalité (et le sens commun) sont de mon côté, mais cela n'a pas empêché l'irascible liégeois de me renvoyer un ex. des 'Charités d'Alcippe' déchiré en deux ou plutôt en quatre. L'époque est à la violence [‘All legality (and common sense) was on my side, yet that irascible man from Liège still sent me back a copy of Les Charités d'Alcippe, torn in two-or rather, in four. These are times defined by violence.’] “The affair of the gentleman from Liège,” as mentioned in the letter, ultimately resulted in a full-fledged legal dispute through attorneys. The writer’s uncompromising standards and constant concern for copyright earned her several disputes, including two lawsuits—one with the director Jean Marchat, and another with her publisher Plon.
The letter’s recipient, Élie Grekoff (1914–1985), painter, illustrator, and master bookbinder, remained a close confidant of the writer for decades and collaborated with her on several editorial and theatrical projects. Among his contributions, he designed the scenery for her Sartre-inspired play, Electre ou la chute des masques, which premiered at the Théâtre des Mathurins. The letter also bears witness to two of their artistic collaborations: the edition of a Latin classic and of a renowned Hindu poem, the Gita-Govinda, both annotated by Yourcenar and illustrated by Grekoff.
In a few beautifully gracious lines, Yourcenar entreats him to accept the proceeds, probably stemming from the 1956 publication of Laevius’s Bagatelles d’Amour: "merci Elie, et je vous en prie, considérez les trente huit mille qui restent comme vôtres, puisque nous n'en avons que faire en ce moment. Et quand je dis comme vôtres, je ne parle pas seulement comme vous le faisiez, du cas de force majeure, guerre, accident ou maladie, mais aussi en vue de rendre un peu plus commode la vie journalière - provisions de charbon, si l'on peut de nouveau en faire, ou achat de sympathiques conserves et repas au restaurant qui vous éviteront l'ennui de faire la cuisine quand vous préféreriez dessiner". [‘thank you, Élie, and I beg you to regard the remaining thirty-eight thousand as entirely yours, for we have no need of them at present. And when I say “yours,” I do not mean only, as you did, in cases of force majeure, war, accident, or illness, but also to make daily life a little more convenient - coal supplies, if they can be had again, or the purchase of pleasant preserves and meals at a restaurant, sparing you the tedium of cooking when you would rather be drawing’.]
A delightful and copious letter from the first woman to be elected to the Académie Française, confronting her publisher and confiding to a trusted friend her fight to safeguard the integrity of her work.
First edition, one of 55 numbered copies on pur fil paper, most limited deluxe issue.
Endleaves and half-title slightly and partially shaded.
Exceedingly rare and handsome copy of this seminal text of modern feminism.
Our copy is housed in a custom gray clamshell box, square spine titled in red, author's name and subtitles in black, first panel hollowed revealing a black and white photograph of Simone de Beauvoir as a young woman under a plexiglass, title in red, author's name, first volume number and subtitle in black, second panel hollowed revealing a color photograph of the author in her prime under plexiglass, titled in red, author's name, second volume number and subtitle in black, box lined with burgundy paper, superb work by artist Julie Nadot.
