Abstract

The recent trend of literary tattoos, particularly popular in the English-speaking world, represents a new way of disseminating writers’ portraits, emblematic motifs, and textual fragments, on the body and online. Laurence Sterne’s already highly visual, highly quotable work is no exception. Based on a surprising encounter, this essay takes its cue from Tristram Shandy as an aesthetic object and explores how human skin can read like a blank page on which to reinscribe Sternean ink and its endless mobility.

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