One of two-hundred and thirty-six copies hard bound in boards covered with a patterened paper designed by the artist. Of these 236, 150 - numbered 61 to 210 - were printed on Zerkall mould-made paper. This is copy 201.
A fine first edition. Published without a dust jacket.
"My name is Lily Campendonc. A long time ago I used to live in Lisbon. . . ." So begins Cork, in which a pragmatic young British widow, proprietor of a cork-processing factory, embarks on an affair with her husband's former office manager, Her lover will meet only once a year, and insists that their encounters be pseudonymous masquerades. For him, this role playing is essential: ''You see, because I am nothing, I can imagine anything. . . . If I were something, I would be unable to imagine.'' Punctuating the story are excerpts from a monograph on the peculiar traits of cork trees. injecting a seemingly dry scientific treatise into a tale of passion. As it turns out, the rare characters of cork—''lightness, impermeability, elasticity''—and the unusual nature of the love affair have much in common.