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Quelques collectionneurs
A charming book by beloved Parisian artist Pierre Le-Tan, filled with dazzling illustrations and intriguing tales about often eccentric art collectors
A Few Collectors is a window into the vast or minuscule world collectors create out of a mix of extravagance and obstinance. It recounts encounters in Paris, the Côte d’Azur, North Africa, London, and New York, where Le-Tan’s subjects have amassed a range of treasures. Some involve famed figures such as former Louvre Museum director Pierre Rosenberg. Others are insolvent aristocrats, princes of film and fashion, expatriate dandies, and flat-out obsessive eccentrics. But Le-Tan devotes to himself what may be his finest chapter.
A Few Collectors is a window into the vast or minuscule world collectors create out of a mix of extravagance and obstinance. It recounts encounters in Paris, the Côte d’Azur, North Africa, London, and New York, where Le-Tan’s subjects have amassed a range of treasures. Some involve famed figures such as former Louvre Museum director Pierre Rosenberg. Others are insolvent aristocrats, princes of film and fashion, expatriate dandies, and flat-out obsessive eccentrics. But Le-Tan devotes to himself what may be his finest chapter.
- GenresArtNonfictionFrance
128 pages, Paperback
First published November 6, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews
August 24, 2022
Rather interesting synopses of collectors and their objects. But the illustrations are wonderful.
January 26, 2023
charmant!
February 12, 2025
v charming little book. lots of really lovely illustrations that are based on memory and imagination but presented as fact. i wish the ARC i read had full-color illustrations.
each chapter is an account of le-tan's friendships and encounters with various collectors. the book explores the collection and juxtaposition of objects as an art form, how collectors are reflected in (or at odds with) the objects they amass, how the act of cataloging can equal the act of owning or preserving, and the serendipitous and relatively autonomous journeys that objects tend to go on during their lifetimes (which often continue after their owners die). what i particularly loved was how the book touches on the tensions between emptiness and fullness — of meaning, of space, of intention etc. for example, one of the first chapters talks about a collector who ended up selling all her paintings, but le-tan found her descriptions of the works and spots of discoloration where they once hung "more moving that if [he'd] seen the pictures themselves." in contrast, he talks about the insipidity of one person's collection, which was outwardly tasteful but "had the same tenor as elevator music."
he talks about people who collect miniature glass figures, artists' trinkets, antiques they refuse to sell, and wax models of dead criminals. one of my favorite collectors le-tan mentions is a dude who collects crumpled up pieces of paper because of the way the light hits them. my favorite chapters were the ones on Howard L., Boris Kochno, Rolande-Louise de Petitpierre, Filippo G., Ghislain Mouret, Pedro Duytveld, and the Princess of Brioni. keep in mind i had no idea who these people were. despite my complete unfamiliarity with most of the artists, collectors, and movements this book mentions, it was impossible to not be transported into its soft, dreamlike world. all of this is underscored by an awareness of the strange privilege and economic realities of collection (although i'm not sure how aware he is of just how disconnected these characters and hobbies are from the average person).
this book made me think about what i collect. i think i collect books, but also paper junk that i enjoy piecing together in meaningful ways. i also collect things people say or do. note to self to think about the materiality and poetics of list making, and list making as a form of collection. anyway!
a selection of my favorite quotes:
"A shepherd was tending his sheep. They were made of ceramic."
"None of these objects left you indifferent."
"Collecting is for me both essential and completely useless."
"There was hardly any furniture; it was a sort of billet. But one still got the sense of a real personality."
"Things that are coveted so, then acquired, always end up escaping our grasp again. The princess embraced me at the front door. I noticed she was wearing false eyelashes that she'd put on backwards. They covered her eyes with a charming latticework."
"Perhaps he didn't have [a private life]. In this cosseted atmosphere, each object had such a presence that no doubt he had no need for anything else, or surely, anyone."
"Everything had been selected by the same infallible eye and together composed a perfect symphony."
"What became of the possessions that so resembled her?"
"The simple catalogue, abundantly illustrated and annotated, favorably replaced the cumbersome ownership of these objects."
"I miss nothing, especially not the profit I could have drawn. These old possessions are now nothing but extraneous commodities, and I find that they've become almost vulgar."
"Oddly enough, these works by marginal artists sometimes shine with such singular brightness that they eclipse those of the greats... The latter end up losing all freshness and often sink into tedium."
"Umberto and I wonder what will become of us when this magnificent place of knowledge disappears."
"For my part, a mix of disenchantment and wisdom acquired with age has taught me that nothing belongs to us... New domains continue to intrigue me, or at least I hope they will. I know, however, that I can part company with it all."
"She told me that my father would have 'adored' it... I don't think she knew who I was or who my father was. It didn't matter..."
"The entire jungle delighted me, but I realized that it was impossible... To buy whatever it might be, since Rolande-Louise was above all a collector and not much of a merchant."
"An orderly jumble that brought together traces of a long and rich career, but also objects he had acquired, chosen with the eye of a great connoisseur. Dust and decay did nothing to diminish the luster of these treasures."
"I hope to leave behind only those little things, probably in a sorry state, but so precious, that were made or given to me by my children in the past: a figuring in modeling clay, a cutout, a broken seashell."
"He never stopped rearranging, always trying to find just the right spot for each thing."
"Its odyssey, which began over two thousand years ago, continues."
"In thinking about this fish restaurant and the collector that I am, I tell myself that in the end I am just like those fishermen who throw their catch back into the water after waiting for hours to reel it in."
each chapter is an account of le-tan's friendships and encounters with various collectors. the book explores the collection and juxtaposition of objects as an art form, how collectors are reflected in (or at odds with) the objects they amass, how the act of cataloging can equal the act of owning or preserving, and the serendipitous and relatively autonomous journeys that objects tend to go on during their lifetimes (which often continue after their owners die). what i particularly loved was how the book touches on the tensions between emptiness and fullness — of meaning, of space, of intention etc. for example, one of the first chapters talks about a collector who ended up selling all her paintings, but le-tan found her descriptions of the works and spots of discoloration where they once hung "more moving that if [he'd] seen the pictures themselves." in contrast, he talks about the insipidity of one person's collection, which was outwardly tasteful but "had the same tenor as elevator music."
he talks about people who collect miniature glass figures, artists' trinkets, antiques they refuse to sell, and wax models of dead criminals. one of my favorite collectors le-tan mentions is a dude who collects crumpled up pieces of paper because of the way the light hits them. my favorite chapters were the ones on Howard L., Boris Kochno, Rolande-Louise de Petitpierre, Filippo G., Ghislain Mouret, Pedro Duytveld, and the Princess of Brioni. keep in mind i had no idea who these people were. despite my complete unfamiliarity with most of the artists, collectors, and movements this book mentions, it was impossible to not be transported into its soft, dreamlike world. all of this is underscored by an awareness of the strange privilege and economic realities of collection (although i'm not sure how aware he is of just how disconnected these characters and hobbies are from the average person).
this book made me think about what i collect. i think i collect books, but also paper junk that i enjoy piecing together in meaningful ways. i also collect things people say or do. note to self to think about the materiality and poetics of list making, and list making as a form of collection. anyway!
a selection of my favorite quotes:
"A shepherd was tending his sheep. They were made of ceramic."
"None of these objects left you indifferent."
"Collecting is for me both essential and completely useless."
"There was hardly any furniture; it was a sort of billet. But one still got the sense of a real personality."
"Things that are coveted so, then acquired, always end up escaping our grasp again. The princess embraced me at the front door. I noticed she was wearing false eyelashes that she'd put on backwards. They covered her eyes with a charming latticework."
"Perhaps he didn't have [a private life]. In this cosseted atmosphere, each object had such a presence that no doubt he had no need for anything else, or surely, anyone."
"Everything had been selected by the same infallible eye and together composed a perfect symphony."
"What became of the possessions that so resembled her?"
"The simple catalogue, abundantly illustrated and annotated, favorably replaced the cumbersome ownership of these objects."
"I miss nothing, especially not the profit I could have drawn. These old possessions are now nothing but extraneous commodities, and I find that they've become almost vulgar."
"Oddly enough, these works by marginal artists sometimes shine with such singular brightness that they eclipse those of the greats... The latter end up losing all freshness and often sink into tedium."
"Umberto and I wonder what will become of us when this magnificent place of knowledge disappears."
"For my part, a mix of disenchantment and wisdom acquired with age has taught me that nothing belongs to us... New domains continue to intrigue me, or at least I hope they will. I know, however, that I can part company with it all."
"She told me that my father would have 'adored' it... I don't think she knew who I was or who my father was. It didn't matter..."
"The entire jungle delighted me, but I realized that it was impossible... To buy whatever it might be, since Rolande-Louise was above all a collector and not much of a merchant."
"An orderly jumble that brought together traces of a long and rich career, but also objects he had acquired, chosen with the eye of a great connoisseur. Dust and decay did nothing to diminish the luster of these treasures."
"I hope to leave behind only those little things, probably in a sorry state, but so precious, that were made or given to me by my children in the past: a figuring in modeling clay, a cutout, a broken seashell."
"He never stopped rearranging, always trying to find just the right spot for each thing."
"Its odyssey, which began over two thousand years ago, continues."
"In thinking about this fish restaurant and the collector that I am, I tell myself that in the end I am just like those fishermen who throw their catch back into the water after waiting for hours to reel it in."
May 6, 2022
The late French illustrator Pierre Le-Tan (who published his first New Yorker cover at age 19) was a collector of art and antiques. What he offers in his final book, alongside some charming pictures, are brief prose sketches of friends and acquaintances who shared the same passion. It’s a rarefied world; Le-Tan references modern artists unknown to me, whose works I would probably hate. And yet this is an unpretentious and very delightful book.
There are different kinds of collectors. The wealthy Patron-of-the-Arts variety gets little respect from Le-Tan. “A kind of halo now crowns dull, laborious men who have lived only for money and power,” he writes. “With art they acquire the so-called ‘glamour’ they lacked, while also realizing that it’s a considerable source of profit. Nonetheless, the delight an aesthete can derive from looking at artworks remains forever alien to them.”
The collectors he admires are those who – like himself – simply thrill to beautiful things, and who love the hunt. “The idea of speculation has never crossed my mind, nor of ‘decoration.’ Collecting is for me both essential and completely useless.”
Le-Tan describes collectors of paintings, of posters, of antique dolls and antique keys, Chinese ceramics, English earthenware figurines, and decorative Islamic tiles. Some of them are hermits, some are exiles, some are eccentric spinsters. One kept in his basement a gallery of nineteenth-century wax model heads of executed criminals, made with their own hair. Another, when he died, left behind a carefully preserved and labelled collection of crumpled scraps of paper found at restaurants, libraries, or on the street.
Of special interest to me are the collections that no longer exist in fact but only in memory. Before divesting themselves of their acquisitions (often to pay bills), many collectors make costly photographic catalogs of them, which they invariably still refer to as “my collection.” An elegant older woman, a friend of his parents, once gave the young Le-Tan a tour of her collection by pointing out all the dark rectangles on the walls of her home where paintings used to hang, describing each in detail.
I like to think I have an aesthetic sense, but I am no collector. Some of my possessions I am especially fond of: a pocket watch my wife gave me soon after we married; an 1871 French Chassepot sword bayonet with a brass handle; a cedar chest that belonged to my great-great-great-grandmother. It’s true, I will buy miniature souvenir totem poles when I find them at antique shops, but too much attachment to mere “things” always smelled to me of rank materialism.
On the other hand, magpies and raccoons are famous for collecting shiny things, and you could hardly accuse them of a moral failing. Perhaps to be a materialist, properly understood, is not so bad a thing. Who, after all, is more materialistic than God, who created the material cosmos ex nihilo and called it good? In this sense, you might say that Le-Tan communicates a godlike joy in the particular objects of his admiration, and there’s an appealing humility in his knowing himself not to be their owner but only a privileged, temporary caretaker.
“For my part,” he says, “a mix of disenchantment and wisdom acquired with age has taught me that nothing belongs to us.”
There are different kinds of collectors. The wealthy Patron-of-the-Arts variety gets little respect from Le-Tan. “A kind of halo now crowns dull, laborious men who have lived only for money and power,” he writes. “With art they acquire the so-called ‘glamour’ they lacked, while also realizing that it’s a considerable source of profit. Nonetheless, the delight an aesthete can derive from looking at artworks remains forever alien to them.”
The collectors he admires are those who – like himself – simply thrill to beautiful things, and who love the hunt. “The idea of speculation has never crossed my mind, nor of ‘decoration.’ Collecting is for me both essential and completely useless.”
Le-Tan describes collectors of paintings, of posters, of antique dolls and antique keys, Chinese ceramics, English earthenware figurines, and decorative Islamic tiles. Some of them are hermits, some are exiles, some are eccentric spinsters. One kept in his basement a gallery of nineteenth-century wax model heads of executed criminals, made with their own hair. Another, when he died, left behind a carefully preserved and labelled collection of crumpled scraps of paper found at restaurants, libraries, or on the street.
Of special interest to me are the collections that no longer exist in fact but only in memory. Before divesting themselves of their acquisitions (often to pay bills), many collectors make costly photographic catalogs of them, which they invariably still refer to as “my collection.” An elegant older woman, a friend of his parents, once gave the young Le-Tan a tour of her collection by pointing out all the dark rectangles on the walls of her home where paintings used to hang, describing each in detail.
I like to think I have an aesthetic sense, but I am no collector. Some of my possessions I am especially fond of: a pocket watch my wife gave me soon after we married; an 1871 French Chassepot sword bayonet with a brass handle; a cedar chest that belonged to my great-great-great-grandmother. It’s true, I will buy miniature souvenir totem poles when I find them at antique shops, but too much attachment to mere “things” always smelled to me of rank materialism.
On the other hand, magpies and raccoons are famous for collecting shiny things, and you could hardly accuse them of a moral failing. Perhaps to be a materialist, properly understood, is not so bad a thing. Who, after all, is more materialistic than God, who created the material cosmos ex nihilo and called it good? In this sense, you might say that Le-Tan communicates a godlike joy in the particular objects of his admiration, and there’s an appealing humility in his knowing himself not to be their owner but only a privileged, temporary caretaker.
“For my part,” he says, “a mix of disenchantment and wisdom acquired with age has taught me that nothing belongs to us.”
February 24, 2023
Original and appealing series of brief descriptions of a number of collectors that Le-Tan knew and visited, illustrated with his own dry, quiet, meticulous drawings. Le-Tan was a much-admired illustrator producing covers for The New Yorker, Vogue and other high-end magazines. He was also himself a collector of arts of all kinds, inhabiting an exalted world of artists, French nobility, fashion designers, and eccentrics who share his passion for seeking, owning, buying and selling objects of their particular passions.
The director of the Louvre fills his apartment with a gleaming menagerie of Murano glass animals. An impoverished princess gives the young Le-Tan a guided tour of her collection: the unfaded rectangles on the walls of her apartment, where the pictures by Rubens, Guercino and others used to be. A fellow he happens to meet on a train shows him his carefully displayed and labeled collection of crumpled pieces of paper: envelopes, paper towel squares, even used tissues (!), relishing the play of shape and texture and shadow. Le-Tan describes this so sympathetically that when he reveals that this man's heirs took all his crumples and smoothed them flat so they would all fit in a box, I was horrified.
Le-Tan is respectful and fascinated. He understands what drives them, whether it's a passion for Islamic tiles, English porcelain, Italian drawings, dolls, or waxen death masks topped with the criminals' own hair - or an assortment of objects chosen for nothing but how beautiful they are to their beholders. Le-Tan's own evolving collections are of a widely eclectic sort, interesting in part because he freely sells them off when he needs money for bills - or another piece of art - without a qualm. His is a curious attitude - he is contemptuous of "vulgar" collectors, ultra-wealthy people who have "lived only for money and power," and who acquire art for purposes of glamor or investment, while purely aesthetic delight remains "alien" to them. Le-Tan acquires objects because they do truly delight him, yet the physical possession of them seems to mean rather little. Sometimes he comes across a piece he once owned in someone else's apartment, and it pleases him to feel that his "children" have been left in the hands of "someone who I trust... safe and happy on my friend Jacques' wall." A lovely, odd, engaging little book - kudos to New Vessel Press, a steady source of such well-chosen titles in translation.
The director of the Louvre fills his apartment with a gleaming menagerie of Murano glass animals. An impoverished princess gives the young Le-Tan a guided tour of her collection: the unfaded rectangles on the walls of her apartment, where the pictures by Rubens, Guercino and others used to be. A fellow he happens to meet on a train shows him his carefully displayed and labeled collection of crumpled pieces of paper: envelopes, paper towel squares, even used tissues (!), relishing the play of shape and texture and shadow. Le-Tan describes this so sympathetically that when he reveals that this man's heirs took all his crumples and smoothed them flat so they would all fit in a box, I was horrified.
Le-Tan is respectful and fascinated. He understands what drives them, whether it's a passion for Islamic tiles, English porcelain, Italian drawings, dolls, or waxen death masks topped with the criminals' own hair - or an assortment of objects chosen for nothing but how beautiful they are to their beholders. Le-Tan's own evolving collections are of a widely eclectic sort, interesting in part because he freely sells them off when he needs money for bills - or another piece of art - without a qualm. His is a curious attitude - he is contemptuous of "vulgar" collectors, ultra-wealthy people who have "lived only for money and power," and who acquire art for purposes of glamor or investment, while purely aesthetic delight remains "alien" to them. Le-Tan acquires objects because they do truly delight him, yet the physical possession of them seems to mean rather little. Sometimes he comes across a piece he once owned in someone else's apartment, and it pleases him to feel that his "children" have been left in the hands of "someone who I trust... safe and happy on my friend Jacques' wall." A lovely, odd, engaging little book - kudos to New Vessel Press, a steady source of such well-chosen titles in translation.
December 12, 2025
Một quyển sách duyên dáng, thú vị, thanh lịch và không kém phần thẳng thắn của tác giả Pierre Le-Tan kể về kỷ niệm cá nhân với vài nhà sưu tập đặc biệt. Những câu chuyện nhỏ, rất ngắn, nhưng chứa đầy kỷ niệm từ thuở nhỏ, khi trưởng thành cho đến tuổi đủ để nhìn lại một chặng đường sống khá dài. Những nhà sưu tập được kể trong sách, có thể là những người gắn với hồi ức về cha mẹ nổi tiếng của ông, có thể là những người bạn của ông sau này, cũng có thể vì họ có bộ sưu tập độc đáo mà ông không thể quên (búp bê, mẫu sáp gương mặt các tử tù, giấy,…). Mỗi câu chuyện không chỉ là chân dung của nhân vật được nhắc đến, mà còn liên kết với những tên tuổi, thông tin nghệ thuật-vân hoá khác, và là một phần nào đó của tác giả mà ông muốn ghi dấu lại, như những mảnh ghép của một ký ức đa dạng và sôi động.
Bản thân tác giả cũng là một nhà sưu tập, đồng thời, mà hơn hết, là một hoạ sĩ minh hoạ có phong cách riêng, thế nên cách ông miêu tả và kể chuyện cũng khá độc đáo, mang tính gợi tả sắc nét và kết nối theo một cách riêng với tâm hồn, cá tính của các nhà sưu tập khác. Quyển sách đem lại cho mình hành trình đọc rất dễ chịu, trung hoà, không bị cuốn vào những miêu tả thái quá về cảm xúc hay ý kiến quá cá nhân, riêng tư, tránh cho độc giả sự bối rối không cần thiết. Thay vào đó, sách như một người dẫn ta đến “gặp” các nhân vật nhà sưu tập, mỗi người vài phút để biết họ đam mê sưu tập gì và biết tác giả có kỷ niệm nào muốn kể về người ấy. Chỉ vậy thôi, không đi sâu vào chuyên môn, thuật ngữ hay những “tuyên ngôn”, phân tích gì, vậy đã đủ để giữ sự thú vị cho toàn quyển sách này, dù nó mỏng.
Một quyển tản văn hay và điềm đạm về mặt nội dung, và đẹp với tranh vẽ minh hoạ. Sách cho ta hiểu hơn một chút về Pierre Lê Tân với những phần tính cách của ông: hoạ sĩ-tác giả-nhà sưu tập.
Bản thân tác giả cũng là một nhà sưu tập, đồng thời, mà hơn hết, là một hoạ sĩ minh hoạ có phong cách riêng, thế nên cách ông miêu tả và kể chuyện cũng khá độc đáo, mang tính gợi tả sắc nét và kết nối theo một cách riêng với tâm hồn, cá tính của các nhà sưu tập khác. Quyển sách đem lại cho mình hành trình đọc rất dễ chịu, trung hoà, không bị cuốn vào những miêu tả thái quá về cảm xúc hay ý kiến quá cá nhân, riêng tư, tránh cho độc giả sự bối rối không cần thiết. Thay vào đó, sách như một người dẫn ta đến “gặp” các nhân vật nhà sưu tập, mỗi người vài phút để biết họ đam mê sưu tập gì và biết tác giả có kỷ niệm nào muốn kể về người ấy. Chỉ vậy thôi, không đi sâu vào chuyên môn, thuật ngữ hay những “tuyên ngôn”, phân tích gì, vậy đã đủ để giữ sự thú vị cho toàn quyển sách này, dù nó mỏng.
Một quyển tản văn hay và điềm đạm về mặt nội dung, và đẹp với tranh vẽ minh hoạ. Sách cho ta hiểu hơn một chút về Pierre Lê Tân với những phần tính cách của ông: hoạ sĩ-tác giả-nhà sưu tập.
October 6, 2021
The illustrator and designer Pierre Le-Tan was a second-generation collector of fine art. Introduced to the world of refined taste by his father, a Vietnamese painter who eventually settled in Paris, where Le-Tan was raised, Le-Tan recollects even at the earliest ages preferring objects of aesthetic appeal over their ability to be played with, and kids usually do with the toys they usually want.
Verbal and pencil sketches by Le-Tan delineate some of the collectors he as befriended or traded with over the decades. Outside of the art world, probably none of these collectors would be known, in part for budgetary reasons and in another part for reasons entirely to do with taste, rather than investment value (which plays a secondary role—nobody here is stupid). They are recorded here, it seems, for their memorable tics and the types of things they collected—porcelain whatnots, death masks, dolls, urns, paintings, and sculptures. (The eclectic tastes give this book a roomy feel rather than of closing onto one genre.)
In addition to items of supreme craftsmanship, one person also collected crumpled paper, apparently delighting the play of light and shadows among the crumples. Another woman, royalty of no means of financial support save the family’s painting collection, explains to Le-Pan as a boy what each painting was that is now represented only by the discolored wallpaper on the wall where it once hung.
It’s a charming bauble of a book, richly illustrated throughout by Le-Tan.
For more of my reviews, please see https://www.thebookbeat.com/backroom/...
Verbal and pencil sketches by Le-Tan delineate some of the collectors he as befriended or traded with over the decades. Outside of the art world, probably none of these collectors would be known, in part for budgetary reasons and in another part for reasons entirely to do with taste, rather than investment value (which plays a secondary role—nobody here is stupid). They are recorded here, it seems, for their memorable tics and the types of things they collected—porcelain whatnots, death masks, dolls, urns, paintings, and sculptures. (The eclectic tastes give this book a roomy feel rather than of closing onto one genre.)
In addition to items of supreme craftsmanship, one person also collected crumpled paper, apparently delighting the play of light and shadows among the crumples. Another woman, royalty of no means of financial support save the family’s painting collection, explains to Le-Pan as a boy what each painting was that is now represented only by the discolored wallpaper on the wall where it once hung.
It’s a charming bauble of a book, richly illustrated throughout by Le-Tan.
For more of my reviews, please see https://www.thebookbeat.com/backroom/...
March 1, 2024
I have owned, I confess, thousands of objects. Even if today most of them are nothing more than memories, I continue to seek, to find, to acquire. . . Collecting is for me both essential and completely useless.
Le-Tan, a French illustrator and painter, recalls notable collections, both his own, and those of friends and acquaintances, and provides commentary and (not enough) illustrations of the treasured possessions. From a collection of crumpled pieces of paper to a disturbing gallery of wax heads of dead criminals, there's a fascinating variety of gathered objects.
It's an oddball little book, and I was drawn to it mainly because of its subject matter, and the fact that I'm a sucker for hardback books with no dustjackets . . . though they are not among the many, many things that I collect. I see nearly all readers have used the word "charming" in their reviews, and well, gosh darn it, the shoe fits. This is darned adorable.
Things that are coveted so, then acquired, always end up escaping our grasp again.
Le-Tan, a French illustrator and painter, recalls notable collections, both his own, and those of friends and acquaintances, and provides commentary and (not enough) illustrations of the treasured possessions. From a collection of crumpled pieces of paper to a disturbing gallery of wax heads of dead criminals, there's a fascinating variety of gathered objects.
It's an oddball little book, and I was drawn to it mainly because of its subject matter, and the fact that I'm a sucker for hardback books with no dustjackets . . . though they are not among the many, many things that I collect. I see nearly all readers have used the word "charming" in their reviews, and well, gosh darn it, the shoe fits. This is darned adorable.
Things that are coveted so, then acquired, always end up escaping our grasp again.
June 17, 2024
I purchased this wonderful book at the French Albertine Bookstore in NYC--the cover was as charming as the writing. The author, who recently passed away, is best known for his crosshatched drawings and watercolors, which often appeared on New Yorker covers. I love his work and was thrilled to find this book, about his encounters with art collectors... the stories are unique and quirky. Perhaps my favorite was the European aristocrats who had to keep selling off their Old Masters to keep financially afloat. Le-Tan writes of the discolored marks left on the walls where the paintings were and the Lady walking him around and describing each and every work of art that once was hanging on the walls. I loved the book and was interested to take a look at Le-Tan's own collection--much of which was auctioned off by Sotheby's after his passing. https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/aucti...
September 9, 2023
A charming little book, fluffy but endearing. The author, a well-known artist and collector, offers brief sketches (written and drawn) of a number of people he's known. All are collectors, some are also dealers.. Most of them collect art and historical artifacts, but there is also a man who collects pieces of crumpled paper, and someone who collects antique dolls, and a visit to macabre collection of waxen death-masks of 19th century murderers. What these people have in common is the instinct, the passion, the need to collect things that bring them joy. The author understands and shares that compulsion.
This is not a scholarly work, or a series of biographies. It's more like a chatty gossip with someone who was very well-connected in the French art world, and who has a secret fondness, both for beautiful objects and the people who collect them.
This is not a scholarly work, or a series of biographies. It's more like a chatty gossip with someone who was very well-connected in the French art world, and who has a secret fondness, both for beautiful objects and the people who collect them.
December 28, 2025
Read most of it this morning in my bed (the couch) while everyone was talking and Stranger Things was on and I kept on taking instagram reels/pinterest breaks for whatever reason. My skin was crawling but this was a neat little book. Four stars might be a little generous. Idc it has pretty illustrations. The crumpled paper collection especially stood out to me as both my favorite drawing & story. What this book lacked in depth, it made up for with simplicity & earnestness. It didn’t overstay its welcome or exaggerate its importance, even though the subject is clearly dear to the author. Very impressive to be able to write about one’s life work without being overly sentimental. Equally as impressive is how Le-Tan easily accepts the transient nature of his own collection. very much different from how I treat my things
October 17, 2022
A really lovely book -- charming, curiosity-sparking.
I'm always surprised, especially as I grow older, to encounter new people, ideas, communities and think, "Oh! I know you." Pierre Le-Tan's descriptions of collecting, the ephemeral nature of "stuff", and, especially, /why/ he collects illuminated something I didn't know about myself, my collections, and why I keep taking books out of the library on the lived-in, lush, messy, often crowded -- or, summarized more aesthetically, "bohemian" -- homes of artists, makers, and those who live in that world.
As always, I'm indebted to the staff of the Multnomah County Library, who spotlighted this book at my branch, seemingly just so I would see it when I walked in.
I'm always surprised, especially as I grow older, to encounter new people, ideas, communities and think, "Oh! I know you." Pierre Le-Tan's descriptions of collecting, the ephemeral nature of "stuff", and, especially, /why/ he collects illuminated something I didn't know about myself, my collections, and why I keep taking books out of the library on the lived-in, lush, messy, often crowded -- or, summarized more aesthetically, "bohemian" -- homes of artists, makers, and those who live in that world.
As always, I'm indebted to the staff of the Multnomah County Library, who spotlighted this book at my branch, seemingly just so I would see it when I walked in.
March 23, 2024
One of the stupidest books I've ever read composed entirely of pointless, uninteresting vignettes.
"I met John LeTard at a nondescript Asain restaurant that served rotten fish. While we were both stuck in the doorway trying to make our escape I happened to learn that John was a collector of 17th Century Belgian lesbian macrame which brought to mind the several times during my childhood when I had a broken shoelace." That is about the caliber of the stories shared in this book. Take a hard pass on this one.
"I met John LeTard at a nondescript Asain restaurant that served rotten fish. While we were both stuck in the doorway trying to make our escape I happened to learn that John was a collector of 17th Century Belgian lesbian macrame which brought to mind the several times during my childhood when I had a broken shoelace." That is about the caliber of the stories shared in this book. Take a hard pass on this one.
January 21, 2025
I’m in love with A Few Collectors by Pierre Le-Tan. It is a wunderkammer of a book, an extraordinary collection of small essays about collectors that Le-Tan knew and / or admired and / or encountered. I’m not even sure what this book is about, because I don’t think collecting is it. Perhaps how to live one’s life, or the importance of beautiful things, or the inherent transience of existence. I actually read it slower and slower because I didn’t want it to end. Also, the printing is beautiful. It’s a coffee table book in miniature.
February 1, 2025
This is a cute little book written by Pierre Le-Tan who was himself an avid collector. In addition to writing about the art collected by his friends, Le-Tan also adds drawings of his friends and some items from their collections. The drawings add a lot. It's fun to see what these friends look like and then what beautiful, odd, strange things they collect. Le-Tan included himself as one of the collectors which adds to the fun.
Written in French in 2013. Translated into English in 2022.
Written in French in 2013. Translated into English in 2022.
October 28, 2022
Utterly charming and quirky book. Each chapter is a bite sized story of a collector Le-Tan encountered during his lifetime of collecting. The illustrations were delightful and the stories short and sweet, simple, while also saying so much. This was such a delightful book of characters and what they collected, and what they let go of, and how things are fleeting.
December 19, 2022
An odd yet somehow charming little book about the author's encounters with fellow collectors in Paris and NY who find delight in acquiring works great and small. The author's illustrations throughout are entertaining and really are the ballast of the book, because the stories are mere introductions to his eccentric collector friends.
January 13, 2025
Breezy story-telling and charming drawings make this slim volume a quick and enjoyable read. Le-Tan does not shy away from revealing his disdain for some and appreciation of other collectors, which comes across as snobbish, but maybe that is just "being French." By far my favorite collector was the one who amassed bits of crumped paper.
Want to read
September 11, 2021Note: I accessed a digital review copy of this book through Edelweiss.
January 22, 2022
Thoroughly enjoyed this collection of collectors. It sent me down many delightful rabbit holes looking into the these intriguing lives and made me question, am I collector? Possibly.
November 28, 2022
Rather detached memoir of collectors and collections. The illustrations are rather charming.
April 1, 2023
I'm not sure who this book about art collectors is for, but it certainly isn't me.
April 3, 2023
It started out very strong. The first half deserves 4 stars and the rest only 2.
April 6, 2023
What a lovely book. Dazzling illustrations and a wonderful glimpse into the world of the eclectic collector’s.
April 25, 2023
A feel good journey
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