Blocked nose ... vague shivers ... a general sense of one or two below par. Still, L. needed to return her books to the local library & so we walk down, pausing only to collect pocketfuls of conkers. I go in with her & mooch around the children's section when suddenly my attention is caught by a book by Stephane Ebner, published by - who else? - esperleute editions. As L. is checking out her new books, I casually enquire whether they have any other esperleute volumes? I'm told to go upstairs to the adult library & look through the Artist's Books. Artist's Books? They have some?

Upstairs we find ourselves in a modern-looking space with - for a local branch - an impressive selection in all the usual categories. And yes, there in an Ikea glass cabinet, are a few Artist's Books on display. The kind that declare look but don't touch. I ask whether it is at all possible to take them out & am pleasantly surprised when the librarian says 'certainement' and then adds that I'm welcome to go into a further room around the corner. Imagine my astonishment as I walk into a room about the size of the average dining room filled with Artist's Books from ceiling to floor.

Incredible. More than incredible. Miraculous. To think that this has been on my doorstep and I never knew ... To mangle Bogart's famous lines: of all the libraries of all the towns ...

Turns out, this is a collection assembled from other libraries and archives. The librarian on duty this morning insists I come back when the manager of the collection is working - we can talk & I can tell her about my books. Meanwhile, I can join the library (a mere 8 euros for the year) and borrow up to ten books at a time - anything & everything is available for loan.

L. sat down with her books & a *sigh*, she's learnt to recognise the warning signs. Half an hour later (pretty good going, I thought) we leave with an initial haul - some of which I've pictured above (Catherine Wilkins' book on Kafka's Metamorphosis; a volume by Henri Meunier for the wonderfully named L'atelier du poisson soluble; a fat tome of pencil drawings by ARPAIS du bois; Souffle by the aforementioned Stephane Ebner). But there are more. & I'll be going back, that's for sure. It's the kind of place to take a thermos & your notebook & while away the whole day.

& of course, as we are walking back I talk to L. about how, once again, libraries are the business. She's excited at the prospect of diving into her new novel; I'm still dazed from the treasure trove I've just stumbled upon. We're a happy pair on such a bright September morning. And to think that such a resource exists, supported & actively financed by the Commune (there were three piles of new acquisitions waiting to be coded & shelved) when - across the Channel - local libraries are being forced to close ... Well, you can draw your own conclusions.