For completeness: The UK/Canada Modern Classics that I own not for domicile-adornment purposes, but to actually read: Malcolm Lowry’s Under the Volcano (read last year) and James Joyce’s Ulysses (currently still reading).

A convulsing, macabre Mexican Day of the Dead mask on the Lowry; the Martello Tower ethereally wreathed in the novel’s opening and closing words on the Joyce. Both are fine designs — better than any current U.S. editions of them — but I wouldn’t hang them up. The Lowry, I wouldn’t want that horrible thing grinning out at me from the wall all the time. And the Joyce, even if the book were not too thick for the shadow-box frames I use (which it is), I am only up to page 372, and I likely won’t be finished until sometime in the two-thousand-teens.