The Year of Reading Proust discussion

ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "If Proust's remembrances are an exploration of his favorite subject, that being himself, and if he believes that memory is imperfect(" corrupted by the lies of the remembering process"), then he ha..."

He did say that the journalistic account of events mute the experience of the event. I think he wants to provide an experience touched by time, not merely a recording, much like his grandmother's love of objects touched by artistry and time, as opposed to a photographic recording.

My first experience with an on-line book group. I'm curious about how this will influence my thoughts and perceptions of this book. I have finished the first section of Combrey. I am enjoying it so far, but the sentences about real events and interactions are intermingled so strongly with philosophical reflections that I'm going to need to adjust my reading style. Also, this will be a true marathon - with 6? books. I have to dig in my heels and prepare for a long and intimate journey.

Proust's writing is certainly obsessive in specific detail and breadth of observations. Even the ephemeral is magnified into glorious HD-fullscreen-vividness.

I think what I'm trying to say is that we are to feel our way through the novel, that the only cues we are to follow are how he feels about what took place and not what actually took place because his memory is not a perfect memory and that it is an altered recollection. We tend to remember how we felt about an occurrence in accurate detail, but not the details of what actually took place.

Julie wrote: "My first experience with an on-line book group. I'm curious about how this will influence my thoughts and perceptions of this book. I have finished the first section of Combrey. I am enjoying it..."

Welcome, Julie! We are the support group for your marathon. :o) Maybe some madeleines and tea will help, too.

Nick wrote: "Proust's writing is certainly obsessive in specific detail and breadth of observations. Even the ephemeral is magnified into glorious HD-fullscreen-vividness."

Hi ya, Nick. That's how I feel about his writing, too. It's like looking into a glittering diamond.

William Herschel wrote: "Thanks to the group for the effort and idea of setting this all up for us. I would not likely be reading this yet otherwise, which would be regrettable since I'm quite enjoying it.

We all sleep, a..."

Welcome, William! Nice to see you here. Lots of my GR friends here.

Considering that Proust was sick often, I would imagine his bedroom taking on a special significance to him. I don't see his depth of perception and feeling, and his natural emotional reactions as mental illness or disability. That's like saying homosexuality is a mental illness. Now, that's another controversial topic.

ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "I think what I'm trying to say is that we are to feel our way through the novel, that the only cues we are to follow are how he feels about what took place and not what actually took place because ..."

I agree with that, the difference between journalistic recounting and experiential recounting.

Aloha wrote: "...It's like looking into a glittering diamond."

Yes it is. Have you read Perfume by Patrick Süskind? I could taste that novel. I am experiencing the same breadth of vivid and evocative descriptions. Proust's acute sensitivity to the olfactory, oracular; taste sensations and perceptions are projected back in shimmering prose -yes, diamond like.

Yes, I have, Nick. I wrote a review on it. The fish scene is priceless.

Funny how I remembered the passage about the narrator's recollection of his mother's goodnight kiss. I had read it about ten years ago and it is one of the passages I remember best... probably because it is beautiful. Just a quick question, how many pages a day approximately do you need to read to stick to the schedule? I'm reading it in French and I figured 5 pages a day might be enough but I might be wrong.

I've just come back from a walk with my dog, and my thinking now is that the better title is actually Remembrance of Things Past. What Proust was doing, was an exploration of trying to preserve time, to capture the moment, the era, and write a great big ode to himself. He was always conscious of never having done anything worthy and decided he would freeze time, preserve memory as his legacy. By documenting in excrutiating minutae everything about and around him, which is why he was so obsessed with detail, he did do just that.

Daniel wrote: "Funny how I remembered the passage about the narrator's recollection of his mother's goodnight kiss. I had read it about ten years ago and it is one of the passages I remember best... probably beca..."

Without re-reading, it would be about ten pages a day. You might want to do more than that to give time for rereading. Some days I can read a big chunk, other days none at all.

Daniel wrote: "Funny how I remembered the passage about the narrator's recollection of his mother's goodnight kiss. I had read it about ten years ago and it is one of the passages I remember best... probably beca..."

I am reading the Gallimard pocket edition and it is about 70pages per week, or 10 a day..

There is a French readers group in which Richard (comment 22) has posted the suggested schedule for the French edition.

Since I am reading the paper edition, I am using the beginning sentences of each section as the cues, rather than the ebook location.


http://www.goodreads.com/topic/group_...

ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "I've just come back from a walk with my dog, and my thinking now is that the better title is actually Remembrance of Things Past. What Proust was doing, was an exploration of trying to preserve tim..."

I prefer In Search of Lost Time for the same reason you indicated. We all have felt regret for time we didn't cherish while we were in the middle of it, so his detailing of his past is a search for the wasted time, to get some of it back.

Here's an interesting YouTube on The Magic Lantern:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omuDMH...

It makes me interested in doing the extra reading, The Magic Lantern of Marcel Proust: A Critical Study of Remembrance of Things Past.

Aloha wrote: "ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "I've just come back from a walk with my dog, and my thinking now is that the better title is actually Remembrance of Things Past. What Proust was doing, was an explora..."

But was he trying to get it back? Did he want to repeat the past?

ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "But was he trying to get it back? Did he want to repeat the past? "

No, he doesn't want to repeat the past, but he wants to get back his experience of it. There's a difference.

Proustitute wrote: "ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "What Proust was doing, was an exploration of trying to preserve time, to capture the moment, the era"

To me, "remembrance" is a passive thing: memories that somehow j..."

That's actually a very good point! Does memory have to be active to be preserved? Do we have to actively be remembering to hold on to our memories? Or do we have to experience life very mindfully to be truly living in the moment?

Proustitute wrote: "ReemK, those are questions I think well worth keeping in mind while reading Proust and asking it of the text."

Yes, I think so. Will do.

HI, I'll introduce myself here, I'm Mercedes, from Argentina... though I don't know how much I will be participating in the threads, because the amount of posts are a bit overwhelming, but I'll try to keep up... with the posts and the reading... This is the first time joining an online reading group... I am reading Swann's way in spanish, I bought the whole series two years ago and started reading it but what happened to me was that, as some have said, he writes in exquisite detail everything, I put it aside and was caught up with readings for work...
I have no background reading of Proust.
I was sort of amazed how he transmitted the game between the conscience and the memory, he describes memories as if they were right here and now in his conscience...

I agree with Proustitute in that the word "Search" has an important active element. It is a bit like a quest.

“Time perdu” also has a connotation of "time wasted away", and as Proust (Narrator?) was accused when he was young of keeping an idle life, his going back in time and being able to reshape himself out his memories is a way of redeeming himself.

Mercedes wrote: I was sort of amazed how he transmitted the game between the conscience and the memory, he describes memories as if they were right here and now in his conscience..."

And so the question becomes, do we look at this as Proust trying to write actual nonfiction memories (Remembrance of Things Past), or is this a skilled writer creating fiction in such a way that you can say, "These memories are so clear! It's like he has total recall from his childhood. They are so crisp and present." I would say that he is a skilled writer creating amazing fiction and that none of us can know for certain how accurate or inaccurate these memories might be. If I were a gambling man, I would bet on the side of fiction stimulated by memory, rather than anything reliably autobiographical. It is a testament to his skill that we perceive the memories as real.

Jim wrote: "Mercedes wrote: I was sort of amazed how he transmitted the game between the conscience and the memory, he describes memories as if they were right here and now in his conscience..."

And so the qu..."
I would agree with Jim's version of things, and would imagine that Proust probably also had a little trick up his sleeve for us to discover along the way.

Aloha wrote: "Considering that Proust was sick often, I would imagine his bedroom taking on a special significance to him. I don't see his depth of perception and feeling, and his natural emotional reactions as mental illness or disability. That's like saying homosexuality is a mental illness. Now, that's another controversial topic. "

How is it like saying homosexuality is a mental illness, though? Sensory overload is widely recognized as a symptom of autism spectrum disorders, it's in the DSM and everything. Proust wasn't just chronically ill, both his father and his younger brother were prestigious doctors (in this he mirrors Flaubert) so he had more contact with medical professionals than most people. He lived in a period when medical techniques and medical knowledge were rapidly evolving, I don't see why he wouldn't take an interest in this subject. I think themes of illness (both mental and physical, if such a distinction can even be made?) are perhaps not as prevalent in the first volume as they are in some of the following*, but I mentioned it now as something worth keeping an eye on.

*though besides the episode in the Overture, in Un Amour du Swann, Doctor Cottard is one of the secondary characters - I'm not sure how aware people are of this, hopefully it's not entirely useless trivia, but Doctor Cottard was most probably named after the neurologist Jules Cotard, whose most famous contribution to medicine is the Cotard delusion, a rare mental illness causing people to believe they (or parts of their body) are dead or nonexistent.

I had no doubt that it was a work of fiction stimulated by a writer's experience. But I thought the question was the meaning of the Narrator reflecting on his past.

Andreea wrote: "Aloha wrote: "Considering that Proust was sick often, I would imagine his bedroom taking on a special significance to him. I don't see his depth of perception and feeling, and his natural emotional..."

What I meant was misdiagnosing something out of the norm as mental illness or disability. Homosexuality and sensitivity to details alone are not symptoms of mental illness or disability. I don't see the Narrator as someone who had sensory overload to the point that he is disabled. Proust can take an interest in the subject, but in the case of the Narrator, I don't believe the Narrator was within the autistic spectrum.

William Herschel wrote: "Thanks to the group for the effort and idea of setting this all up for us. I would not likely be reading this yet otherwise, which would be regrettable since I'm quite enjoying it.

We all sleep, a..."

I had a similar experience as I started to read "Swann's Way". I began reading at 1:30am...when I, myself, could not sleep. A memory of my grandmother's fresh crisp white sheets surrounding me with the smell of drying in the sunshine was palpable...her home for me when I was a child was a haven of safety.

As I read I drifted off to that between land of sleep and wakefulness...I remember the most brilliant illuminating green light. Next thing I remember I woke from a "childish terror"...a nightmare.

I sense I have entered the "magic lantern" of the Narrator's world.

ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "I think what I'm trying to say is that we are to feel our way through the novel, that the only cues we are to follow are how he feels about what took place and not what actually took place because ..."

I agree. I actually signed on to make note of the experience. The feeling. Allowing ourselves to be swept along on Proust's journey. Nearly a surrender.

In the first paragraph the Narrator speaks of the experience of being the book, not being the book (separation) and then what it must feel to be reincarnated.

He talks of midnight...the travel by train...memorable for its unfamiliar experience...all the more endearing because we are returning home. He speaks of time travel and subversion of memories in his ride on the magic chair.

So far Swann's Way reads to me as the joy or desire or compulsion of writing (or perhaps rewriting and in some sense reinventing) one's life. I find the same when I draw. It takes a lifetime to not draw (or paint or write) for others, to not care how the world may respond...but to do it because we MUST. By then we are mature...have lived a life...and in searching for lost time may imbue our memories with the life lived since OR have the pleasure of recreating.

I recall one time of conscious separation from my work. I was in my 30's. I had created a conceptual piece and it was being exhibited in a show in Chicago...several thousand miles from where I was standing at my kitchen sink doing dishes. I was struck that the person who was doing mundane tasks in my familiar home was the person who created a piece others were experiencing far removed from me. I could barely reconcile myself...although both were equally me.

It seems it is that journey I have signed on for into Proust's world.

Aloha wrote: "Andreea wrote: "Aloha wrote: "Considering that Proust was sick often, I would imagine his bedroom taking on a special significance to him. I don't see his depth of perception and feeling, and his n..."

Agree, Aloha.

Cheryl wrote: "I recall one time of conscious separation from my work. I was in my 30's. I had created a conceptual piece and it was being exhibited in a show in Chicago...several thousand miles from where I was standing at my kitchen sink doing dishes. I was struck that the person who was doing mundane tasks in my familiar home was the person who created a piece others were experiencing far removed from me. I could barely reconcile myself...although both were equally me...."

I know that feeling! A similar kind of disconnect occurs if you're attending an art opening of something you've created. Listening to people tell you what your work means is a big disconnect. The artist's finished work versus the person washing dishes, or drinking cheap red wine wondering when the after party will begin...

I wonder what Proust thought when/if he read or heard critiques of ISOLT? Could they be talking about the sick man struggling to breathe in his cork-lined room.

Cheryl wrote: "ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "I think what I'm trying to say is that we are to feel our way through the novel, that the only cues we are to follow are how he feels about what took place and not wha..."

That is beautifully put, Cheryl. I almost accidentally deleted your beautiful passage with my finger.

Proustitute wrote: "Jim wrote: "I wonder what Proust thought when/if he read or heard critiques of ISOLT?"

Perhaps Kalliope could enlighten us on this, as I know she's recently finished the Carter bio.

I'd be curiou..."

The history of the publishing of La recherche is very complex. But here are several thoughts:

Proust could absorb the costs of publishing, so for him prestige was the most important aspect.

He himself had doubts on how he wanted his work to appear, whether serialize it or not.

His work was becoming impossibly long, and he knew this was creating some serious practical difficulties for whoever was considering publishing.

When the NRF rejected it, it was not the only Publishing house who first refused it. Also, he learnt only later that it had been Gide who had given the negative.

Because prestige was the most important thing, and the NRF was the most prestigious in its approach, Proust had some difficulties in changing publishing houses and move to Gide’s when they showed interest in publishing his later volumes. He felt a serious conflict between loyalty and literary prestige. Eventually the latter won.

Proust was not of a resentful nature. He did not take it against Gide that he had rejected him the first time.

Proust had no doubts that his work was very good. Rejections were more a “contretemps” than of a confidence-shattering nature.

Kalliope wrote: "I agree with Proustitute in that the word "Search" has an important active element. It is a bit like a quest.

“Time perdu” also has a connotation of "time wasted away", and as Proust (Narrator?) w..."

I have just started The Proustian Quest, and I have posted an update under this book which is relevant to this topic... Yes, it is a active Search.

@Kalliope - thank you. Fascinating to know. What's this 'Carter bio' mentioned above. *googles*

@Nick

There is a thread on William Carter's bio on Proust. I also posted a review.

Ollendorff's rejection comment is priceless: "I don't see why a man should take thirty pages to describe how he turns over in bed before he goes to sleep.".

I'm curious to know how Proust might have reacted to that kind of inanity. One person finds it superfluous and doesn't understand why someone would dwell and digress, and all of a sudden a masterpiece is rendered unworthy, even boring. Getting on with the story isn't the sole literary ambition, nor event the primary one for so many of what we now call masterpieces.

How thick-skinned was Proust when confronted with this disinterest?

Aloha wrote: "What I meant was misdiagnosing something out of the norm as mental illness or disability."

Michel Foucault: "If you are not like everybody else, then you are abnormal, if you are abnormal, then you are sick. These three categories, not being like everybody else, not being normal and being sick are in fact very different but have been reduced to the same thing..."

Mme X wrote: The names - Mme de Saint-Loup! Would have been meaningless to me when I read for the first time, but strikes me right at the heart now.

Yes, seeing her name in the midst of these memories really struck me this time, too! The whole novel is hidden in her name! I was suddenly sitting in my chair recalling all the history that leads a little girl to that woman. I continue to marvel at the solid rock-like structure of this seemingly fluid and spontaneous book.

Moonbutterfly wrote: "Aloha wrote: "I don't see his depth of perception and feeling, and his natural emotional reactions as mental illness or disability."

Although I agree with you, I think its a sign of a great book w..."

Why would this book make you old, Moonie?

Kalliope wrote: "@Nick

There is a thread on William Carter's bio on Proust. I also posted a review."

I'm starting to read it. It's really good.

Joshua wrote: "Aloha wrote: "What I meant was misdiagnosing something out of the norm as mental illness or disability."

Michel Foucault: "If you are not like everybody else, then you are abnormal, if you are abn..."

Terrific quote. Thanks, Joshua.

Moonie, he makes you want to recall some of your memories in the same way.

I really enjoy "the goodnight kiss" with the alternating earlier/later 1st person narrators particularly how the passage ends: he gets what he wants, his mother, but having her is not what he thought it would be & is saddened by his "victory" (over her) in a "puberty of grief" et al.

"This was many years ago. The staircase wall on which I saw the rising glimmer of his candle has long since ceased to exist. In me, too, many things have been destroyed that I thought were bound to last forever and new ones have formed that have given birth to new sorrows and joys which I could not have foreseen then, just as the old ones have become difficult for me to understand. It was a very long time ago, too, that my father ceased to be able to say to Mama: "Go with the boy." The possibility of such hours will never be reborn for me. But for a little while now, I have begun to hear again very clearly, if I take care to listen, the sobs that I was strong enough to contain in front of my father and that broke out only when I found myself alone again with Mama. They have never really stopped; and it is only because life is now becoming quieter around me that I can hear them again, like those convent bells covered so well by the clamor of the town during the day that one would think they had ceased altogether but which begin sounding again in the silence of the evening."

First, I really appreciate the images of Bressant and Charles Haas.

I'm struck by how slippery the transitions are between general (conditional?) time and specific scenes. For example, the way Swann's gift of Asti wine and his mention in Figaro show up as an example of the grandmother's general relationship with her sisters, and how that prepares us for the transition (a page later) from Swann's visits being painful in the evenings to: "We were all in the garden when the two hesitant rings of the little bell sounded," quite abruptly in the middle of a paragraph, which happens to be right after the gift of the wine.

The musical structure and overlapping motifs have been mentioned above, but it's still amazing how the metaphors and memories that show up in the first section are all doing multiple things at once.

"The names - Mme de Saint-Loup! Would have been meaningless to me when I read for the first time, but strikes me right at the heart now.

Yes, seeing her name in the midst of these memories really struck me this time, too! The whole novel is hidden in her name! "

I quite agree with this. It's very moving. (view spoiler)[She is the confluence of the two Ways (hide spoiler)]

Proustitute wrote: "Why had I forgotten the dualistic portrait of Swann that Proust creates in these opening scenes? By this I mean not even solely the public versus the private Swann, which will come later on, but the different versions of our public selves, how we are one self with one group of people and an entirely different self with another group of people—and also how we are forced to be these selves due to the limited social scope of those with whom we interact and who refuse to acknowledge that we have other sides to our personalities which, in our exchanges with them, are often suppressed just as they are expressed in the company of others..."

Excellent point! I just started last night and this morning (could not wait any longer for hard copy to arrive so I ordered Kindle version to tide me over). Proust was not subtle about stating this duality but I thought nothing of it other than how it applied to Swann. I see it very similar to how one would act around their family versus, say, at a college campus on Saturday night. We can manage to have different personalities with our grandmother than with our fraternity brothers. We have much more in depth and complex conversations with someone in our literature class than our Uncle who we discuss NFL football.

It doesn't seem to be overly important to the narrator, but it does seem clear to me that the anxiety-paralyzed little boy IS dealing with some serious mental health issues. I know it's become cliche to diagnose literary characters, but obviously his behavior is not regarded as normal within the narrative and other characters in the novel (his mother and grandmother) are acknowledged to be trying to toughen him up.

It doesn't add much to our understanding to say, "Lil' Marcel really needs 20 ml of Paxil, stat!" but I don't think that we should pretend, just because the character lives in the pre-modern health era, that lying for hours in agony because your mom didn't kiss you is in any way normal or unremarkable.

I don't want to belabor the point as it doesn't seem like Proust was too interested in developing it, but it seems to me that the narrator regards this "nervous condition" as just another illness to deal with. In fact, it's heartbreaking to see his relief when his condition is pathologized -- "I could cry without sin."

Ned wrote: In fact, it's heartbreaking to see his relief when his condition is pathologized -- "I could cry without sin."



Great post, Ned. I think it also highlights the parental styles of those days. Fathers were much less involved in a kid's life, and even mothers (in wealthy families as he describes) delegated many tasks as well. Mental illness, a little Oedepus complex, and obsession with routine....

The more I think of this, and the more I read, the more powerful this work becomes. In the entire swirling, layered, detail fabric of time, there are nearly infinite memories and emotions. Heartbreak is definitely one of these.

I was just reading an article that gives us the lessons that we can take from Sherlock Holmes, and they seem to me appropriate to reading and understanding Proust as well, so I'm sharing them with you. Reading Proust involves changing the way we see the world, as he also gives us lessons in not just seeing but the importance of observing and being constantly mindful of our surroundings by using our senses to increase mindfulness. I beleive that is what we are to take away from reading ISOLT.
http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/l...