(I wonder if it originally had a dust wrapper? I've never seen one).
When I was doing my DPhil on Conrad I accumulated a number of unprepossessing (dust wrapper presence and condition of book immaterial) first editions of his work, seldom for more than a few pounds.
This new obsession had been fuelled by a small legacy from my mother: at last I could actually afford better things – signed copies of Lady Chatterley's Lover and Pansies, as well as one of the only known copies of Sons and Lovers in its original dust wrapper (previously Dennis Wheatley's copy, for which I paid Blackwell's £350 in 1979).
But it's a risible goal, because it ludicrously overvalues condition, and makes dust wrappers worth 20 times more than the books they enclose – so too many modern book collectors are actually collectors of dust wrappers, with thrown-in books.
This will remove the dust, wrappers, and other stuff that is too small to pick up and throw away or there's too many of.
I've been reading a biography of Victor Gollancz, whose publishing house has, since 1928, issued highly distinctive works in bright yellow dust-wrappers, identifiable from 30 yards.
To complete the sum of Valentine's joy, Topping & Company's bookshop is round the corner, offering free coffee and the sudden realisation that your life is incomplete without at least six of their hardbacks (which all come in the store's custom-made, transparent dust-wrappers).
Storm drains relieved, brick walks relaid, a heritage of dust and wrappers is renounced.
If guests are sleeping on the floor, they'll be able to see under beds, tables, chairs, etc., and you don't want them finding dust bunnies, candy wrappers, and stinky socks.
Wet paper wrappers, orange dust on my face, hands, and seemingly everything I owned.
Mr. Ruscha's work is a collection of film stills with tiny text on the back cover and a wax-paper-like dust jacket that resembles the wrapper inside a box of saltines.
