Reading Proust - 1

July 17, 2006

A week or so ago I signed up as a member of a small group of bloggers reading Proust. Since then I have been making my very slow way through Swann’s Way (yep, the $8.95 cheap-ass bastard edition– after spot-comparing it with the Lydia Davis translation, I saw no compelling reason to buy the latter).

I don’t have nearly as much time to read as I would like, and the first thing I quickly discovered about Swann’s Way is that it demands that even rarer commodity: quality reading time. This is not the kind of writing that can be effectively done while listening to music or the radio… or even while significantly mentally distracted.

Of course, as everyone knows including those who have never read a word of his work, Proust is all about memory. As the blog alludes to, he distinguishes between volunatary memory, where you consciously seek to recall events from the past, and involuntary memory, which is triggered unexpectedly by objects. In Proust’s conception, the latter is the more genuine. It is all the richer and more complex for being uninvited, and it engages our senses in ways that deliberate, intentional recall cannot.

Proust’s writing demands– and so far rewards– close attention. His sentences are long, elegant, and tricky. But he doesn’t waste words; it’s not all lengthy frills and frippery but Proust’s fundamental unwillingness to let the smallest observation or feeling go by unnoticed or unexamined. It’s ironic to me that he puts so much value in the construction of our selves as seen through the eyes of others in the context of a work which is so intensely inward-gazing that it reaches an almost Zen-like state of absolute command.

At this moment I am poised for the dunking of the famous madeleine and the head-trips that follow. If I disappear for more than a few days, I’ve probably fallen into the book and am unable to get out…

Tags: fiction, memory, proust, reading log