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脌 la recherche du temps perdu #3
小褌芯褉芯薪邪 袚械褉屑邪薪褌芯胁
袩械褉胁褘泄 褌芯屑 褋邪屑芯谐芯 蟹薪邪屑械薪懈褌芯谐芯 褎褉邪薪褑褍蟹褋泻芯谐芯 褉芯屑邪薪邪 啸啸 胁械泻邪 胁褘褕械谢 斜芯谢械械 褋褌邪 谢械褌 薪邪蟹邪写 鈥� 胁 薪芯褟斜褉械 1913 谐芯写邪. 袪芯屑邪薪 薪邪蟹褘胁邪谢褋褟 "袙 褋褌芯褉芯薪褍 小胁邪薪薪邪", 懈 械谐芯 邪胁褌芯褉 袦邪褉褋械谢褜 袩褉褍褋褌 褌芯谐写邪 械褖械 薪械 锌芯写芯蟹褉械胁邪谢, 褔褌芯 械谐芯 写械褌懈褖械 褉邪蟹褉邪褋褌械褌褋褟 胁 褑懈泻谢 "袙 锌芯懈褋泻邪褏 褍褌褉邪褔械薪薪芯谐芯 胁褉械屑械薪懈", 薪邪写 泻芯褌芯褉褘屑 锌懈褋邪褌械谢褜 斜褍写械褌 褉邪斜芯褌邪褌褜 写芯 锌芯褋谢械写薪懈褏 褔邪褋芯胁 褋胁芯械泄 卸懈蟹薪懈. "小褌芯褉芯薪邪 袚械褉屑邪薪褌芯胁" 鈥� 褌褉械褌懈泄 褌芯屑 褋械屑懈褌芯屑薪芯谐芯 褉芯屑邪薪邪 袦邪褉褋械谢褟 袩褉褍褋褌邪. 袝褋谢懈 锌械褉胁邪褟 泻薪懈谐邪, "袙 褋褌芯褉芯薪褍 小胁邪薪薪邪", 褉邪褋褋泻邪蟹褘胁邪械褌 芯 写械褌褋褌胁械 谐谢邪胁薪芯谐芯 谐械褉芯褟 懈 芯 褌芯屑, 褔褌芯 斜褘谢芯 写芯 械谐芯 褉芯卸写械薪懈褟, 胁褌芯褉邪褟, "袩芯写 褋械薪褜褞 写械胁, 褍胁械薪褔邪薪薪褘褏 褑胁械褌邪屑懈", 鈥� 褝褌芯 械谐芯 芯褌褉芯褔械褋褌胁芯, 泻褉邪褏 锌械褉胁芯泄 谢褞斜胁懈 懈 蟹邪褉芯卸写械薪懈械 薪芯胁芯泄, 褌芯 "小褌芯褉芯薪邪 袚械褉屑邪薪褌芯胁" 鈥� 褝褌芯 褞薪芯褋褌褜.
870 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 1, 1920
1,083 people are currently reading
15k people want to read
About the author
Marcel Proust
1,833听books7,124听followersMarcel Proust was a French novelist, best known for his 3000 page masterpiece 脌 la recherche du temps perdu (Remembrance of Things Past or In Search of Lost Time), a pseudo-autobiographical novel told mostly in a stream-of-consciousness style.
Born in the first year of the Third Republic, the young Marcel, like his narrator, was a delicate child from a bourgeois family. He was active in Parisian high society during the 80s and 90s, welcomed in the most fashionable and exclusive salons of his day. However, his position there was also one of an outsider, due to his Jewishness and homosexuality. Towards the end of 1890s Proust began to withdraw more and more from society, and although he was never entirely reclusive, as is sometimes made out, he lapsed more completely into his lifelong tendency to sleep during the day and work at night. He was also plagued with severe asthma, which had troubled him intermittently since childhood, and a terror of his own death, especially in case it should come before his novel had been completed. The first volume, after some difficulty finding a publisher, came out in 1913, and Proust continued to work with an almost inhuman dedication on his masterpiece right up until his death in 1922, at the age of 51.
Today he is widely recognized as one of the greatest authors of the 20th Century, and 脌 la recherche du temps perdu as one of the most dazzling and significant works of literature to be written in modern times.
Born in the first year of the Third Republic, the young Marcel, like his narrator, was a delicate child from a bourgeois family. He was active in Parisian high society during the 80s and 90s, welcomed in the most fashionable and exclusive salons of his day. However, his position there was also one of an outsider, due to his Jewishness and homosexuality. Towards the end of 1890s Proust began to withdraw more and more from society, and although he was never entirely reclusive, as is sometimes made out, he lapsed more completely into his lifelong tendency to sleep during the day and work at night. He was also plagued with severe asthma, which had troubled him intermittently since childhood, and a terror of his own death, especially in case it should come before his novel had been completed. The first volume, after some difficulty finding a publisher, came out in 1913, and Proust continued to work with an almost inhuman dedication on his masterpiece right up until his death in 1922, at the age of 51.
Today he is widely recognized as one of the greatest authors of the 20th Century, and 脌 la recherche du temps perdu as one of the most dazzling and significant works of literature to be written in modern times.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,084 reviews
December 18, 2023
Marcel Proust remains precise in depicting every nuance of relationships.
Life in high circles is rich and full of theatricality鈥�
Theatre is a prolongation of life and life is a continuation of theatre鈥� The hero keeps circulating in high society and living by his romantic delusions and shapeless ideals鈥� He exists in his own world of make-believe鈥�
Every day is a frilly pageant鈥� Receptions, salons, dinners and balls become real celebrations of egregious hypocrisy and vanity鈥�
The life of high society is like foaming champagne 鈥� a flute glass is brimming over but wine barely covers the bottom.
Life in high circles is rich and full of theatricality鈥�
I was sitting next to some vulgar people who did not know who the regular seat-holders were but were anxious to show that they were capable of identifying them and were naming them loudly. They went on to remark that these regulars behaved as if they were in their own drawing-rooms, which implied that they were paying no attention to what was being performed. In fact it was quite the opposite. The inspired student who has taken a stall in order to see La Berma thinks only of keeping his gloves clean, of not disturbing, of ingratiating himself with the neighbour whom chance has placed in the next seat, of pursuing with an intermittent smile the fleeting glance, or avoiding with apparent bad manners the intercepted glance, of someone he knows and has seen in the audience; after endless indecision, he decides to go and pay his respects just as the three knocks from the stage, sounding before he has had time to reach his acquaintance, force him to flee back to his seat, like the Hebrews in the Red Sea, through the heaving swell of men and women in the audience whom he has made to get up from their seats and whose dresses he tears and whose boots he crushes on the way. By contrast, it was because society people sat in their boxes (behind the tiered circle) as in so many little suspended drawing-rooms with the fourth wall removed, or little caf茅s where refreshment can be taken, unintimidated by the gilt-framed mirrors and the red plush seats of this Neapolitan establishment; it was because they rested an indifferent hand on the gilded shafts of the columns supporting this temple of lyric art and because they remained unmoved by the excessive honours which they seemed to receive from the two sculpted figures that held out palm and laurel branches towards each box, that they alone would have had the clarity of mind to attend to the play, if only they had had minds.
Theatre is a prolongation of life and life is a continuation of theatre鈥� The hero keeps circulating in high society and living by his romantic delusions and shapeless ideals鈥� He exists in his own world of make-believe鈥�
I really was in love with Mme de Guermantes. The greatest boon I could have asked of God would have been that he should bring down upon her every possible calamity, and that ruined, discredited, stripped of all the privileges that separated me from her, with no home of her own or people who would consent to speak to her, she would come to me for asylum. In my imagination, I would picture her doing this.
Every day is a frilly pageant鈥� Receptions, salons, dinners and balls become real celebrations of egregious hypocrisy and vanity鈥�
The life of high society is like foaming champagne 鈥� a flute glass is brimming over but wine barely covers the bottom.
June 22, 2018
how can a sociopath love society so much??
because, make no mistake, that is what we are dealing with here.in this third installment, our dear narrator graduates from being a feeble child, from being a lovesick adolescent into a manipulating, stalking, social climbing creature who learns a lesson in disillusionment. cheers.
for all his bookish intelligence, his overthinking, his lofty words, at the end of the day, he is just a pale sticky thing masturbating in society's stairwell.
this is his idea of true love: "I was genuinely in love with Mme. de Guermantes. The greatest happiness that I could have asked of God would have been that he should send down on her every imaginable calamity, and that ruined, despised, stripped of all the privileges that separated her from me, having no longer any home of her own or people who would condescend to speak to her, she should come to me for asylum."
THAT would be his greatest happiness?? dude...
"I was less sad than usual because the melancholy of her expression, the sort of claustration which the startling hue of her dress set between her and the rest of the world, made her seem somehow lonely and unhappy, and this comforted me."
he is such a little shit.
so then how does he get to simultaneously have such refinement and linguistic elegance to make these beautiful observations:
"For the fact of the matter is that, since we are determined always to keep our feelings to ourselves, we have never given any thought to the manner in which we should express them. And suddenly there is within us a strange and obscene animal making itself heard, whose tones may inspire as much alarm in the person who receives the involuntary, elliptical and almost irresistible communication of one's defect or vice as would the sudden avowal indirectly and outlandishly
proffered by a criminal who can no longer refrain from confessing to a murder of which one had never imagined him to be guilty. "
this is how salieri must have felt that such a wanker as mozart was given such talent.(and yes, i get all my history from peter schaffer)
i do love proust, but it is not the way i love anyone i want to spend a lot of time with, and not the kind of love you feel for distant relations, where you kind of have to love them.i don't feel an obligatory book-lover's love for him; he moves me so often that i know my love is genuine, but he also kind of sickens me.
because he writes these gross scenes:
"My food was brought to me in a little panelled room upstairs. The lamp went out during dinner and the serving-girl lighted a couple of candles. Pretending
that I could not see very well as I held out my plate while she helped me to potatoes, I took her bare forearm in my hand, as though to guide her. Seeing that she did not withdraw it, I began to fondle it, then, without saying a word, pulled her towards me, blew out the candles and told her to feel in my pocket for some money."
you just know after the money-in-the-pocket routine, he went home and had himself a good scrawl, kevin spacey-in-se7en kind of way, in his notebooks piling to the ceiling. he pursues women the way he pursued his mother, with this obsessive need that once obtained is quickly discarded, as a scene in this book which i will not spoil for others makes most apparent. (incidentally,mommy is only mentioned once or twice in this volume - we are all grown up now)
and why does that serving-girl scene gross me out so much? because i love byron, and he is known for his "falling upon chambermaids like a lightning bolt".what,
ultimately, is the difference between byron and this guy? is it just a matter of proactivity vs passivity? because if byron had said that about a serving wench, i would have just sighed "oh, byron..." but this guy - suddenly pulling out his one tough-guy move, it just makes the skin crawl.he hasn't earned my belief as an irresistable lady-killer, and comes across instead as kind of rape-y.i picture him as a tiny, pale truman capote creature in the corner, complaining about the draft while trying to look down ladies' blouses and
calling it love.
unrelated to the last paragraph, the whole time i was reading this, all i could think of and then i found that youtube video which was great because someone else had made the leap from recording studio to salon and made the visual for me just to use in this review. thanks, internet! (note - the video has changed, but the song remains the same...music pun intentional)
this is a perfect song about the purity of nostalgia and hero-worship and all of that, with a different ending than proust offers, but i think,a more sweetly poignant ending. who knew there was a bigger downer than morrissey?it is a different situation entirely, of course, but the impulse of infatuation with someone you only know through reputation - these society women were the rock stars of their times.
why am i dwelling so much on morrissey? cuz he is my madeleine.
and this makes it sound like i didn't like this book, but that's not true. i am just focusing on what i felt the most strongly about. the first 200 pages were not terribly fun for me, despite an alarming number of bookmarks indicating my favorite passages. and then - dialogue! it was like a revelation - that's what has been missing! from then on i liked it a lot more, but less than the previous two volumes. i am giving it four, but shhh it really means 3.5.
the parts that were good were very very good, and reminded me of , but let's be honest - there were some dull bits here.
in a novel about the emptiness of the social elite, the impulse is to side with, emotionally, the narrator over the shallow society types. but here, you really can't, because his fawning judgmental inertia is not heroic. he
has done nothing to earn my love or readerly hurrahs. there are no heroes here. it is france.
because, make no mistake, that is what we are dealing with here.in this third installment, our dear narrator graduates from being a feeble child, from being a lovesick adolescent into a manipulating, stalking, social climbing creature who learns a lesson in disillusionment. cheers.
for all his bookish intelligence, his overthinking, his lofty words, at the end of the day, he is just a pale sticky thing masturbating in society's stairwell.
this is his idea of true love: "I was genuinely in love with Mme. de Guermantes. The greatest happiness that I could have asked of God would have been that he should send down on her every imaginable calamity, and that ruined, despised, stripped of all the privileges that separated her from me, having no longer any home of her own or people who would condescend to speak to her, she should come to me for asylum."
THAT would be his greatest happiness?? dude...
"I was less sad than usual because the melancholy of her expression, the sort of claustration which the startling hue of her dress set between her and the rest of the world, made her seem somehow lonely and unhappy, and this comforted me."
he is such a little shit.
so then how does he get to simultaneously have such refinement and linguistic elegance to make these beautiful observations:
"For the fact of the matter is that, since we are determined always to keep our feelings to ourselves, we have never given any thought to the manner in which we should express them. And suddenly there is within us a strange and obscene animal making itself heard, whose tones may inspire as much alarm in the person who receives the involuntary, elliptical and almost irresistible communication of one's defect or vice as would the sudden avowal indirectly and outlandishly
proffered by a criminal who can no longer refrain from confessing to a murder of which one had never imagined him to be guilty. "
this is how salieri must have felt that such a wanker as mozart was given such talent.(and yes, i get all my history from peter schaffer)
i do love proust, but it is not the way i love anyone i want to spend a lot of time with, and not the kind of love you feel for distant relations, where you kind of have to love them.i don't feel an obligatory book-lover's love for him; he moves me so often that i know my love is genuine, but he also kind of sickens me.
because he writes these gross scenes:
"My food was brought to me in a little panelled room upstairs. The lamp went out during dinner and the serving-girl lighted a couple of candles. Pretending
that I could not see very well as I held out my plate while she helped me to potatoes, I took her bare forearm in my hand, as though to guide her. Seeing that she did not withdraw it, I began to fondle it, then, without saying a word, pulled her towards me, blew out the candles and told her to feel in my pocket for some money."
you just know after the money-in-the-pocket routine, he went home and had himself a good scrawl, kevin spacey-in-se7en kind of way, in his notebooks piling to the ceiling. he pursues women the way he pursued his mother, with this obsessive need that once obtained is quickly discarded, as a scene in this book which i will not spoil for others makes most apparent. (incidentally,mommy is only mentioned once or twice in this volume - we are all grown up now)
and why does that serving-girl scene gross me out so much? because i love byron, and he is known for his "falling upon chambermaids like a lightning bolt".what,
ultimately, is the difference between byron and this guy? is it just a matter of proactivity vs passivity? because if byron had said that about a serving wench, i would have just sighed "oh, byron..." but this guy - suddenly pulling out his one tough-guy move, it just makes the skin crawl.he hasn't earned my belief as an irresistable lady-killer, and comes across instead as kind of rape-y.i picture him as a tiny, pale truman capote creature in the corner, complaining about the draft while trying to look down ladies' blouses and
calling it love.
unrelated to the last paragraph, the whole time i was reading this, all i could think of and then i found that youtube video which was great because someone else had made the leap from recording studio to salon and made the visual for me just to use in this review. thanks, internet! (note - the video has changed, but the song remains the same...music pun intentional)
this is a perfect song about the purity of nostalgia and hero-worship and all of that, with a different ending than proust offers, but i think,a more sweetly poignant ending. who knew there was a bigger downer than morrissey?it is a different situation entirely, of course, but the impulse of infatuation with someone you only know through reputation - these society women were the rock stars of their times.
why am i dwelling so much on morrissey? cuz he is my madeleine.
and this makes it sound like i didn't like this book, but that's not true. i am just focusing on what i felt the most strongly about. the first 200 pages were not terribly fun for me, despite an alarming number of bookmarks indicating my favorite passages. and then - dialogue! it was like a revelation - that's what has been missing! from then on i liked it a lot more, but less than the previous two volumes. i am giving it four, but shhh it really means 3.5.
the parts that were good were very very good, and reminded me of , but let's be honest - there were some dull bits here.
in a novel about the emptiness of the social elite, the impulse is to side with, emotionally, the narrator over the shallow society types. but here, you really can't, because his fawning judgmental inertia is not heroic. he
has done nothing to earn my love or readerly hurrahs. there are no heroes here. it is france.
January 17, 2022
(Book 685 from 1001 books) 脌 la recherche du temps perdu III: Le c么t茅 de Guermantes (脌 la recherche du temps perdu #3) = Remembrance of Things Past 鈥� The Guermantes Way, Marcel Proust
The Guermantes Way (Le C么t茅 de Guermantes) originally published in two volumes (1920/1921).
The third volume of Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time, which portrays fashionable Parisian life in the late nineteenth century, where the narrator enters the brilliant, shallow world of the literary and aristocratic salons. Both a salute to and devastating satire of a time, a place, and a culture.
I just keep quiet. Writing about this novel should be a separate book in itself. You do not know where to start, it is like praising the pyramids of Egypt stone by stone, and you do not know how to deal with the storm of words, the glorious word for this novel is smaller than small.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 乇賵夭賴丕蹖 賳賵丕賲亘乇 爻丕賱1994賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 丕夭 丿爻鬲 乇賮鬲賴貙 讴鬲丕亘 爻賵賲: 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賲丕乇爻賱 倬乇賵爻鬲貨 賲鬲乇噩賲 賲賴丿蹖 爻丨丕亘蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賲乇讴夭貙 爻丕賱1372貙 卮丕亘讴9643050092貨 趩丕倬 倬賳噩賲 爻丕賱1385貨 趩丕倬 卮卮賲 爻丕賱1389貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 賮乇丕賳爻賴 - 爻丿賴20賲
讴鬲丕亘 賳禺爻鬲: 胤乇賮 禺丕賳賴 爻賵丕賳貨 讴鬲丕亘 丿賵賲: 丿乇 爻丕蹖賴 丿賵卮蹖夭诏丕賳 卮讴賵賮丕貨 讴鬲丕亘 爻賵賲: 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 蹖讴貨 讴鬲丕亘 趩賴丕乇賲: 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 丿賵貨 讴鬲丕亘 倬賳噩賲: 爻丿賵賲 賵 毓賲賵乇賴貨 讴鬲丕亘 卮卮賲 丕爻蹖乇貨 讴鬲丕亘 賴賮鬲賲 丌賱亘乇鬲蹖賳 诏賲卮丿賴 (诏乇蹖禺鬲賴)貨 讴鬲丕亘 賴卮鬲賲: 夭賲丕賳 亘丕夭蹖丕賮鬲賴貨
賳賵卮鬲賳 丿乇 亘丕乇賴 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳貙 禺賵丿 讴鬲丕亘蹖 亘丕蹖丿 噩丿丕诏丕賳賴 亘丕卮丿貨 賳賲蹖丿丕賳蹖丿 丕夭 讴噩丕 丌睾丕夭 讴賳蹖丿貙 賴賲丕賳賳丿 丕蹖賳 丕爻鬲 讴賴 亘禺賵丕賴蹖丿 爻賳诏 亘賴 爻賳诏 芦丕賴乇丕賲 賲氐乇禄 乇丕 爻鬲丕蹖卮 讴賳蹖丿貙 賵 賳賲蹖丿丕賳蹖丿 亘丕 胤賵賮丕賳 讴賱賲丕鬲貙 趩诏賵賳賴 亘乇禺賵乇丿 賳賲丕蹖蹖丿貙 賵丕跇賴 蹖 亘丕卮讴賵賴 亘乇丕蹖 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 讴賵趩讴鬲乇 丕夭 讴賵趩讴 丕爻鬲貨 卮讴賵賴蹖 亘賴 賲乇丕鬲亘 亘乇鬲乇 丕夭 爻丕禺鬲賲丕賳 讴賱蹖爻丕賴丕蹖 噩丕賲毓 芦诏賵鬲蹖讴禄貙 丕倬乇丕賴丕蹖 芦賵丕诏賳乇禄貙 芦亘鬲賴賵賵賳禄 賵 賳賵卮鬲丕乇賴丕蹖 賴賲诏蹖 芦丕讴爻倬乇爻蹖賵賳蹖爻鬲禄賴丕貨 丕賲丕 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 亘蹖卮 丕夭 賴乇 趩蹖夭 丕夭 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 丿乇賲蹖蹖丕亘蹖賲 丕蹖賳讴賴貙 讴鬲丕亘 丕夭 蹖讴 丿睾丿睾賴貙 爻乇卮丕乇 丕爻鬲貙 丿睾丿睾賴 丕蹖 亘賴 賳丕賲 賴乇丕爻 丕夭 賲乇诏貙 賵 鬲乇爻 丕夭 賲購乇丿賳貙 賵 賳诏賮鬲賳 賵 賳賳诏丕卮鬲賳 丌賳 賴賲賴 賵丕跇賴 丕蹖 讴賴 乇賵丕賳鬲丕賳 乇丕貙 賲蹖禺賵乇賳丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 丕蹖賳 亘乇丕蹖 賲乇丿賲丕賳 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖貙 賯丕亘賱 丿乇讴 賳亘丕卮丿貙 賵 賳蹖爻鬲貨 丕蹖賳讴賴 賲睾夭鬲丕賳 倬乇 丕夭 賵丕跇賴 賴丕蹖蹖 亘丕卮丿貙 讴賴 禺賵丿卮丕賳 乇丕 亘賴 丕蹖賳 丿乇 賵 丌賳 丿蹖賵丕乇 賲蹖讴賵亘賳丿貙 鬲丕 禺丕乇噩 卮賵賳丿貙 賵賱蹖 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳賳丿貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 乇丕 賳丕趩蹖夭 賲蹖卮賲丕乇賳丿貙 賵 禺賵丿 乇丕 賵賯賮 禺蹖丕賱蹖 亘丕賵乇賳讴乇丿賳蹖 賲蹖讴賳賳丿貙 讴賴 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭 乇丕 蹖丕乇丕蹖 亘乇丕亘乇蹖 亘丕 丌賳 賳蹖爻鬲貨 丕蹖賳诏賵賳賴 賲蹖卮賵丿 讴賴 亘乇鬲乇蹖賳 賵氐賮 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 亘夭乇诏鬲乇蹖賳 卮丕賴讴丕乇賴丕蹖 鬲丕乇蹖禺 丕丿亘蹖丕鬲貙 亘賴 卮乇丨 亘蹖賲丕乇蹖 賲丨丿賵丿 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 亘丕 丕蹖賳 賴賲 賲賵丕賮賯 賴爻鬲賲貙 讴賴 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 卮丕賴讴丕乇賴丕蹖 丕丿亘蹖貙 倬乇 丕夭 丨丕賱丕鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賴丕蹖 亘蹖賲丕乇 丕爻鬲貨 丕夭 芦丿丕爻鬲丕蹖賵爻讴蹖禄 賵 芦讴丕賮讴丕禄 诏乇賮鬲賴貙 鬲丕 芦爻賱蹖賳禄貙 芦賴丿丕蹖鬲禄貙 芦賲蹖卮蹖賲丕禄貙 芦賮丕讴賳乇禄貙 芦賵賵賱賮禄 賵 芦噩賵蹖爻禄貙 丕賳爻丕賳賴丕 趩蹖夭蹖 乇丕 賳賲蹖丌賮乇蹖賳賳丿 鬲丕 噩丕賵丿丕賳賴 卮賵丿貙 賵 賴賲蹖卮賴 丕蹖賳 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲賴丕 賴爻鬲賳丿 讴賴 噩丕賵丿丕賳賴 賲蹖卮賵賳丿貨 芦丿乇 噩爻鬲 賵 噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 丕夭 丿爻鬲 乇賮鬲賴禄貙 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 賴賲蹖賳 丿蹖诏乇诏賵賳賴 賴丕 丕爻鬲
丕夭 賲鬲賳 噩賱丿 爻賵賲: 賴乇趩賴 亘賵丿 丕蹖賳 乇丕 賮賴賲蹖丿賲 讴賴 賲丨丕賱 亘鬲賵丕賳 亘賴 诏賵賳賴 丕蹖 賲爻鬲賯蹖賲 賵 賲胤賲卅賳 丿乇蹖丕賮鬲 讴賴 丌蹖丕 賮乇丕賳爻賵丕夭 賲乇丕 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕乇丿 蹖丕 丕夭 賲賳 賲鬲賳賮乇 丕爻鬲. 亘丿蹖賳诏賵賳賴 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 亘丕乇 丕賵 丕蹖賳 丕賳丿蹖卮賴 乇丕 丿乇 賲賳 亘乇丕賳诏蹖禺鬲 讴賴 蹖讴 賮乇丿貙 丌賳趩賳丕賳 讴賴 賲賳 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖讴乇丿賲貙 匕丕鬲蹖 乇賵卮賳 賵 亘蹖丨乇讴鬲 賳蹖爻鬲 讴賴 亘丕 賴賲賴 蹖 禺賵亘蹖賴丕貙 毓蹖亘亘賴丕貙 賳賯卮賴 賴丕貙 賵 賳蹖鬲 賴丕蹖卮 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 賲丕 (賴賲丕賳賳丿 亘丕睾趩賴 丕蹖 亘丕 賴賲賴 蹖 诏賱賴丕 賵 诏蹖丕賴丕賳卮 讴賴 丕夭 倬爻 賳乇丿賴 丕蹖 鬲賲丕卮丕 讴賳蹖賲) 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇賲丕賳 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿賴 亘丕卮丿. 亘賱讴賴 爻丕蹖賴 丕蹖 爻鬲 讴賴 賴乇诏夭 丿乇 丌賳 乇禺賳賴 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳 讴乇丿貙 賵 丿乇亘丕乇賴 丕卮 趩蹖夭蹖 亘賴 賳丕賲 卮賳丕禺鬲 賲爻鬲賯蹖賲 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇丿貨 (氐賮丨賴91)貨
诏賮鬲賴 丕賳丿 讴賴 爻讴賵鬲 賳蹖乇賵蹖蹖 爻鬲. 丿乇爻鬲 丕夭 噩賳亘賴 蹖 丿蹖诏乇蹖貙 爻讴賵鬲 賳蹖乇賵蹖 爻賴賲诏蹖賳蹖 爻鬲 丿乇 丕禺鬲蹖丕乇 賲毓卮賵賯. 爻讴賵鬲 亘乇 丿賱卮賵乇賴 蹖 丕賳鬲馗丕乇 丿丕賲賳 賲蹖夭賳丿. 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭 亘賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 蹖 丌賳趩賴 噩丿丕蹖蹖 賲蹖丕賳丿丕夭丿 丌丿賲 乇丕 亘賴 賳夭丿蹖讴 卮丿賳 亘賴 丿蹖诏乇蹖 丿毓賵鬲 賳賲蹖讴賳丿貙 賵 趩賴 爻丿賾蹖 诏匕乇賳丕倬匕蹖乇鬲乇 丕夭 爻讴賵鬲責 賳蹖夭 诏賮鬲賴 丕賳丿 讴賴 爻讴賵鬲 卮讴賳噩賴 丕蹖 爻鬲 賵 賲蹖鬲賵丕賳丿 夭賳丿丕賳蹖丕賳 賲丨讴賵賲 亘賴 爻讴賵鬲 乇丕 亘賴 丿蹖賵丕賳诏蹖 亘讴卮丕賳丿. 丕賲丕 趩賴 卮讴賳噩賴 丕蹖 亘夭乇诏鬲乇 丕夭 賳賴 爻讴賵鬲 讴乇丿賳貙 讴賴 爻讴賵鬲 丿賱丿丕乇 乇丕 丿蹖丿賳責鈥︹€�..貨 賵丕賳诏賴蹖 趩賳蹖賳 爻讴賵鬲蹖貙 亘爻 爻賳诏丿賱丕賳賴 鬲乇 丕夭 爻讴賵鬲 夭賳丿丕賳貙 禺賵丿 夭賳锟斤拷丕賳蹖 爻鬲. 丨氐丕乇蹖 亘蹖诏賲丕賳 睾蹖乇賲丕丿蹖貙 丕賲丕 乇禺賳賴 賳丕倬匕蹖乇 丕爻鬲 丕蹖賳 賵乇胤賴 讴賴 诏乇趩賴 丕夭 禺賱丕 丌讴賳丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 丕賲丕 倬乇鬲賵 賳诏丕賴 賴丕蹖 賲丨讴賵賲 亘賴 丨丕賱 禺賵丿 乇賴丕卮丿賴 丕夭 丌賳 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳丿 亘诏乇蹖夭丿貨 (氐賮丨賴155)貨
趩賴 亘丕乇賴丕 讴賴 賳卮丿 讴賴 卮賳蹖丿賳卮 丿趩丕乇 丿賱卮賵乇賴 丕賲 賳讴賳丿貙 丕賳诏丕乇 讴賴 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇 丕蹖賳 賲丨賱貙 丕蹖賳讴賴 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳爻鬲賲 亘丿賵賳 趩賳丿蹖賳 爻丕毓鬲 爻賮乇貙 毓夭蹖夭蹖 乇丕 亘亘蹖賳賲 讴賴 氐丿丕蹖卮 丌賳趩賳丕賳 亘賴 诏賵卮賲 賳夭丿蹖讴 亘賵丿貙 亘賴鬲乇 丨爻 賲蹖讴乇丿賲 讴賴 丿乇 倬爻 馗丕賴乇 卮蹖乇蹖賳 卮蹖乇蹖賳鬲乇蹖賳 賳夭丿蹖讴蹖賴丕 趩賴 賲丕蹖賴 爻乇禺賵乇丿诏蹖 賳賴賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲貙 賵 趩賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 丿賵乇蹖賲 丕夭 丌賳丕賳 讴賴 丿賵爻鬲 賲蹖丿丕乇蹖賲 丿乇 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 讴賴 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖乇爻丿 亘丕 丿乇丕夭 讴乇丿賳 丿爻鬲蹖 賲蹖鬲賵丕賳 賳诏丕賴卮丕賳 丿丕卮鬲貨 (氐賮丨賴169)貨
賲丕 賴乇 賱丨馗賴 丿乇 讴丕乇 卮讴賱 丿丕丿賳 亘賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 禺賵蹖卮蹖賲貙 丕賲丕 賳丕禺賵丕爻鬲賴 氐賵乇鬲 讴爻蹖 乇丕 讴倬蹖 賲蹖讴賳蹖賲 讴賴 賴爻鬲蹖賲貙 賳賴 丌賳 讴賴 禺賵卮 丿丕乇蹖賲 亘丕卮蹖賲貨 (氐賮丨賴232)貨
倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱賴丕
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 26/10/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
The Guermantes Way (Le C么t茅 de Guermantes) originally published in two volumes (1920/1921).
The third volume of Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time, which portrays fashionable Parisian life in the late nineteenth century, where the narrator enters the brilliant, shallow world of the literary and aristocratic salons. Both a salute to and devastating satire of a time, a place, and a culture.
I just keep quiet. Writing about this novel should be a separate book in itself. You do not know where to start, it is like praising the pyramids of Egypt stone by stone, and you do not know how to deal with the storm of words, the glorious word for this novel is smaller than small.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 乇賵夭賴丕蹖 賳賵丕賲亘乇 爻丕賱1994賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 丕夭 丿爻鬲 乇賮鬲賴貙 讴鬲丕亘 爻賵賲: 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賲丕乇爻賱 倬乇賵爻鬲貨 賲鬲乇噩賲 賲賴丿蹖 爻丨丕亘蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賲乇讴夭貙 爻丕賱1372貙 卮丕亘讴9643050092貨 趩丕倬 倬賳噩賲 爻丕賱1385貨 趩丕倬 卮卮賲 爻丕賱1389貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 賮乇丕賳爻賴 - 爻丿賴20賲
讴鬲丕亘 賳禺爻鬲: 胤乇賮 禺丕賳賴 爻賵丕賳貨 讴鬲丕亘 丿賵賲: 丿乇 爻丕蹖賴 丿賵卮蹖夭诏丕賳 卮讴賵賮丕貨 讴鬲丕亘 爻賵賲: 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 蹖讴貨 讴鬲丕亘 趩賴丕乇賲: 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 丿賵貨 讴鬲丕亘 倬賳噩賲: 爻丿賵賲 賵 毓賲賵乇賴貨 讴鬲丕亘 卮卮賲 丕爻蹖乇貨 讴鬲丕亘 賴賮鬲賲 丌賱亘乇鬲蹖賳 诏賲卮丿賴 (诏乇蹖禺鬲賴)貨 讴鬲丕亘 賴卮鬲賲: 夭賲丕賳 亘丕夭蹖丕賮鬲賴貨
賳賵卮鬲賳 丿乇 亘丕乇賴 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳貙 禺賵丿 讴鬲丕亘蹖 亘丕蹖丿 噩丿丕诏丕賳賴 亘丕卮丿貨 賳賲蹖丿丕賳蹖丿 丕夭 讴噩丕 丌睾丕夭 讴賳蹖丿貙 賴賲丕賳賳丿 丕蹖賳 丕爻鬲 讴賴 亘禺賵丕賴蹖丿 爻賳诏 亘賴 爻賳诏 芦丕賴乇丕賲 賲氐乇禄 乇丕 爻鬲丕蹖卮 讴賳蹖丿貙 賵 賳賲蹖丿丕賳蹖丿 亘丕 胤賵賮丕賳 讴賱賲丕鬲貙 趩诏賵賳賴 亘乇禺賵乇丿 賳賲丕蹖蹖丿貙 賵丕跇賴 蹖 亘丕卮讴賵賴 亘乇丕蹖 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 讴賵趩讴鬲乇 丕夭 讴賵趩讴 丕爻鬲貨 卮讴賵賴蹖 亘賴 賲乇丕鬲亘 亘乇鬲乇 丕夭 爻丕禺鬲賲丕賳 讴賱蹖爻丕賴丕蹖 噩丕賲毓 芦诏賵鬲蹖讴禄貙 丕倬乇丕賴丕蹖 芦賵丕诏賳乇禄貙 芦亘鬲賴賵賵賳禄 賵 賳賵卮鬲丕乇賴丕蹖 賴賲诏蹖 芦丕讴爻倬乇爻蹖賵賳蹖爻鬲禄賴丕貨 丕賲丕 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 亘蹖卮 丕夭 賴乇 趩蹖夭 丕夭 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 丿乇賲蹖蹖丕亘蹖賲 丕蹖賳讴賴貙 讴鬲丕亘 丕夭 蹖讴 丿睾丿睾賴貙 爻乇卮丕乇 丕爻鬲貙 丿睾丿睾賴 丕蹖 亘賴 賳丕賲 賴乇丕爻 丕夭 賲乇诏貙 賵 鬲乇爻 丕夭 賲購乇丿賳貙 賵 賳诏賮鬲賳 賵 賳賳诏丕卮鬲賳 丌賳 賴賲賴 賵丕跇賴 丕蹖 讴賴 乇賵丕賳鬲丕賳 乇丕貙 賲蹖禺賵乇賳丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 丕蹖賳 亘乇丕蹖 賲乇丿賲丕賳 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖貙 賯丕亘賱 丿乇讴 賳亘丕卮丿貙 賵 賳蹖爻鬲貨 丕蹖賳讴賴 賲睾夭鬲丕賳 倬乇 丕夭 賵丕跇賴 賴丕蹖蹖 亘丕卮丿貙 讴賴 禺賵丿卮丕賳 乇丕 亘賴 丕蹖賳 丿乇 賵 丌賳 丿蹖賵丕乇 賲蹖讴賵亘賳丿貙 鬲丕 禺丕乇噩 卮賵賳丿貙 賵賱蹖 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳賳丿貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 乇丕 賳丕趩蹖夭 賲蹖卮賲丕乇賳丿貙 賵 禺賵丿 乇丕 賵賯賮 禺蹖丕賱蹖 亘丕賵乇賳讴乇丿賳蹖 賲蹖讴賳賳丿貙 讴賴 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭 乇丕 蹖丕乇丕蹖 亘乇丕亘乇蹖 亘丕 丌賳 賳蹖爻鬲貨 丕蹖賳诏賵賳賴 賲蹖卮賵丿 讴賴 亘乇鬲乇蹖賳 賵氐賮 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 亘夭乇诏鬲乇蹖賳 卮丕賴讴丕乇賴丕蹖 鬲丕乇蹖禺 丕丿亘蹖丕鬲貙 亘賴 卮乇丨 亘蹖賲丕乇蹖 賲丨丿賵丿 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 亘丕 丕蹖賳 賴賲 賲賵丕賮賯 賴爻鬲賲貙 讴賴 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 卮丕賴讴丕乇賴丕蹖 丕丿亘蹖貙 倬乇 丕夭 丨丕賱丕鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賴丕蹖 亘蹖賲丕乇 丕爻鬲貨 丕夭 芦丿丕爻鬲丕蹖賵爻讴蹖禄 賵 芦讴丕賮讴丕禄 诏乇賮鬲賴貙 鬲丕 芦爻賱蹖賳禄貙 芦賴丿丕蹖鬲禄貙 芦賲蹖卮蹖賲丕禄貙 芦賮丕讴賳乇禄貙 芦賵賵賱賮禄 賵 芦噩賵蹖爻禄貙 丕賳爻丕賳賴丕 趩蹖夭蹖 乇丕 賳賲蹖丌賮乇蹖賳賳丿 鬲丕 噩丕賵丿丕賳賴 卮賵丿貙 賵 賴賲蹖卮賴 丕蹖賳 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲賴丕 賴爻鬲賳丿 讴賴 噩丕賵丿丕賳賴 賲蹖卮賵賳丿貨 芦丿乇 噩爻鬲 賵 噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 丕夭 丿爻鬲 乇賮鬲賴禄貙 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 賴賲蹖賳 丿蹖诏乇诏賵賳賴 賴丕 丕爻鬲
丕夭 賲鬲賳 噩賱丿 爻賵賲: 賴乇趩賴 亘賵丿 丕蹖賳 乇丕 賮賴賲蹖丿賲 讴賴 賲丨丕賱 亘鬲賵丕賳 亘賴 诏賵賳賴 丕蹖 賲爻鬲賯蹖賲 賵 賲胤賲卅賳 丿乇蹖丕賮鬲 讴賴 丌蹖丕 賮乇丕賳爻賵丕夭 賲乇丕 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕乇丿 蹖丕 丕夭 賲賳 賲鬲賳賮乇 丕爻鬲. 亘丿蹖賳诏賵賳賴 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 亘丕乇 丕賵 丕蹖賳 丕賳丿蹖卮賴 乇丕 丿乇 賲賳 亘乇丕賳诏蹖禺鬲 讴賴 蹖讴 賮乇丿貙 丌賳趩賳丕賳 讴賴 賲賳 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖讴乇丿賲貙 匕丕鬲蹖 乇賵卮賳 賵 亘蹖丨乇讴鬲 賳蹖爻鬲 讴賴 亘丕 賴賲賴 蹖 禺賵亘蹖賴丕貙 毓蹖亘亘賴丕貙 賳賯卮賴 賴丕貙 賵 賳蹖鬲 賴丕蹖卮 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 賲丕 (賴賲丕賳賳丿 亘丕睾趩賴 丕蹖 亘丕 賴賲賴 蹖 诏賱賴丕 賵 诏蹖丕賴丕賳卮 讴賴 丕夭 倬爻 賳乇丿賴 丕蹖 鬲賲丕卮丕 讴賳蹖賲) 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇賲丕賳 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿賴 亘丕卮丿. 亘賱讴賴 爻丕蹖賴 丕蹖 爻鬲 讴賴 賴乇诏夭 丿乇 丌賳 乇禺賳賴 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳 讴乇丿貙 賵 丿乇亘丕乇賴 丕卮 趩蹖夭蹖 亘賴 賳丕賲 卮賳丕禺鬲 賲爻鬲賯蹖賲 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇丿貨 (氐賮丨賴91)貨
诏賮鬲賴 丕賳丿 讴賴 爻讴賵鬲 賳蹖乇賵蹖蹖 爻鬲. 丿乇爻鬲 丕夭 噩賳亘賴 蹖 丿蹖诏乇蹖貙 爻讴賵鬲 賳蹖乇賵蹖 爻賴賲诏蹖賳蹖 爻鬲 丿乇 丕禺鬲蹖丕乇 賲毓卮賵賯. 爻讴賵鬲 亘乇 丿賱卮賵乇賴 蹖 丕賳鬲馗丕乇 丿丕賲賳 賲蹖夭賳丿. 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭 亘賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 蹖 丌賳趩賴 噩丿丕蹖蹖 賲蹖丕賳丿丕夭丿 丌丿賲 乇丕 亘賴 賳夭丿蹖讴 卮丿賳 亘賴 丿蹖诏乇蹖 丿毓賵鬲 賳賲蹖讴賳丿貙 賵 趩賴 爻丿賾蹖 诏匕乇賳丕倬匕蹖乇鬲乇 丕夭 爻讴賵鬲責 賳蹖夭 诏賮鬲賴 丕賳丿 讴賴 爻讴賵鬲 卮讴賳噩賴 丕蹖 爻鬲 賵 賲蹖鬲賵丕賳丿 夭賳丿丕賳蹖丕賳 賲丨讴賵賲 亘賴 爻讴賵鬲 乇丕 亘賴 丿蹖賵丕賳诏蹖 亘讴卮丕賳丿. 丕賲丕 趩賴 卮讴賳噩賴 丕蹖 亘夭乇诏鬲乇 丕夭 賳賴 爻讴賵鬲 讴乇丿賳貙 讴賴 爻讴賵鬲 丿賱丿丕乇 乇丕 丿蹖丿賳責鈥︹€�..貨 賵丕賳诏賴蹖 趩賳蹖賳 爻讴賵鬲蹖貙 亘爻 爻賳诏丿賱丕賳賴 鬲乇 丕夭 爻讴賵鬲 夭賳丿丕賳貙 禺賵丿 夭賳锟斤拷丕賳蹖 爻鬲. 丨氐丕乇蹖 亘蹖诏賲丕賳 睾蹖乇賲丕丿蹖貙 丕賲丕 乇禺賳賴 賳丕倬匕蹖乇 丕爻鬲 丕蹖賳 賵乇胤賴 讴賴 诏乇趩賴 丕夭 禺賱丕 丌讴賳丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 丕賲丕 倬乇鬲賵 賳诏丕賴 賴丕蹖 賲丨讴賵賲 亘賴 丨丕賱 禺賵丿 乇賴丕卮丿賴 丕夭 丌賳 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳丿 亘诏乇蹖夭丿貨 (氐賮丨賴155)貨
趩賴 亘丕乇賴丕 讴賴 賳卮丿 讴賴 卮賳蹖丿賳卮 丿趩丕乇 丿賱卮賵乇賴 丕賲 賳讴賳丿貙 丕賳诏丕乇 讴賴 丿乇 亘乇丕亘乇 丕蹖賳 賲丨賱貙 丕蹖賳讴賴 賳賲蹖鬲賵丕賳爻鬲賲 亘丿賵賳 趩賳丿蹖賳 爻丕毓鬲 爻賮乇貙 毓夭蹖夭蹖 乇丕 亘亘蹖賳賲 讴賴 氐丿丕蹖卮 丌賳趩賳丕賳 亘賴 诏賵卮賲 賳夭丿蹖讴 亘賵丿貙 亘賴鬲乇 丨爻 賲蹖讴乇丿賲 讴賴 丿乇 倬爻 馗丕賴乇 卮蹖乇蹖賳 卮蹖乇蹖賳鬲乇蹖賳 賳夭丿蹖讴蹖賴丕 趩賴 賲丕蹖賴 爻乇禺賵乇丿诏蹖 賳賴賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲貙 賵 趩賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 丿賵乇蹖賲 丕夭 丌賳丕賳 讴賴 丿賵爻鬲 賲蹖丿丕乇蹖賲 丿乇 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 讴賴 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖乇爻丿 亘丕 丿乇丕夭 讴乇丿賳 丿爻鬲蹖 賲蹖鬲賵丕賳 賳诏丕賴卮丕賳 丿丕卮鬲貨 (氐賮丨賴169)貨
賲丕 賴乇 賱丨馗賴 丿乇 讴丕乇 卮讴賱 丿丕丿賳 亘賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 禺賵蹖卮蹖賲貙 丕賲丕 賳丕禺賵丕爻鬲賴 氐賵乇鬲 讴爻蹖 乇丕 讴倬蹖 賲蹖讴賳蹖賲 讴賴 賴爻鬲蹖賲貙 賳賴 丌賳 讴賴 禺賵卮 丿丕乇蹖賲 亘丕卮蹖賲貨 (氐賮丨賴232)貨
倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱賴丕
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 26/10/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
March 26, 2021
Si et les exploraient respectivement l鈥檈nfance et l鈥檃dolescence du Narrateur, avec Le c么t茅 de Guermantes, nous entrons dans l鈥櫭e adulte. Proust, dans les deux premiers volumes de la Recherche, avait explor茅 avec une minutie prodigieuse les fluctuations du sentiment amoureux et de son double habituel, la jalousie. Dans ce troisi猫me tome, exit les madeleines et les aub茅pines 鈥� Proust passe 脿 la vitesse sup茅rieure. L鈥檃mour est toujours pr茅sent : fascination pour la duchesse de Guermantes, 茅pisode rapport茅 sur l鈥檃venture de Saint-Loup avec l鈥檃guichante Rachel, fantasme passager sur Mme de Stermaria, visite transitoire d鈥橝lbertine devenue 芦 facile 禄. Mais d茅sormais, Proust s鈥檃ttache 脿 peindre un milieu social qui le fascine : l鈥檃ristocratie parisienne.
L鈥檌ncursion du narrateur dans 芦 le boulevard Saint-Germain 禄 avait d茅j脿 eu des signes avant-coureurs dans 芦 Un amour de Swann 禄 (rappelons la soir茅e Saint-Euverte et le petit cercle des Verdurin). Mais ici, Proust vise plus haut dans l鈥櫭ヽhelle sociale : nous avons affaire au gratin du petit Paris. Il plonge aussi plus profond dans le travail d鈥檕bservation et de description. Les deux morceaux de r茅sistance dans Le c么t茅 de Guermantes sont : d鈥檜ne part la matin茅e chez Mme de Villeparisis, d鈥檃utre part le d卯ner chez les Guermantes. Il s鈥檃git, dans les deux cas, d鈥櫭﹑isodes copieux (plus d鈥檜ne centaine de pages chacun) o霉, du seul point de vue ph茅nom茅nologique, il ne se passe gu猫re plus qu鈥檜ne conversation mondaine un peu d茅cousue sur des sujets vari茅s (parmi lesquels, l鈥橝ffaire Dreyfus n鈥檈st pas des moindres). Proust, cependant, indique, comme en passant, quelle est son intention en ce qui concerne son portrait des Guermantes :
Ainsi, non seulement Proust 茅vite de donner de ce milieu social une sorte d鈥檈squisse pittoresque, mais c鈥檈st pr茅cis茅ment l脿 qu鈥檌l d茅ploie tout le g茅nie de ses observations et le mordant de son ironie : chaque geste, chaque parole, chaque 茅l茅ment vestimentaire, chaque pi猫ce d鈥檃meublement ou de d茅coration est 茅pluch茅, d茅pec茅, d茅soss茅 sous la plume de Proust qui, sans cesse, semble vouloir sonder sous l鈥櫭﹑iderme des faits, prendre une sorte de tangente humoristique, linguistique, onomastique, historique, m茅taphysique, et, ce faisant, fait s鈥櫭ヽouler le temps lui-m锚me comme au ralenti, pris dans une substance sirupeuse, toujours a la limite de la cristallisation, la mati猫re m锚me de son roman, telle une r茅sine fossilis茅e.
Je note pour conclure (provisoirement) que certains moments du C么t茅 de Guermantes resteront sans doute grav茅s dans ma m茅moire : les sc猫nes ou apparaissent le baron de Charlus (inspir茅 par le comte Robert de Montesquiou, que Proust avait fr茅quent茅), ainsi que celles avec le duc de Guermantes (avatar du comte Henry Greffulhe), ont toutes un grain d鈥檃ffectation, de goujaterie, presque d鈥檌mpudeur, que je trouve tout 脿 fait vivifiant. A cet 茅gard, l鈥櫭﹑isode final du roman (la sc猫ne des souliers rouges), ou Swann fait une derni猫re et courte apparition, est un bijou ou se m锚lent de mani猫re presque d茅chirante les deux mouvements contraires de la bouffonnerie et du fun猫bre.
> Vol. pr茅c茅dent : 脌 l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs
> Vol. suivant : Sodome et Gomorrhe
L鈥檌ncursion du narrateur dans 芦 le boulevard Saint-Germain 禄 avait d茅j脿 eu des signes avant-coureurs dans 芦 Un amour de Swann 禄 (rappelons la soir茅e Saint-Euverte et le petit cercle des Verdurin). Mais ici, Proust vise plus haut dans l鈥櫭ヽhelle sociale : nous avons affaire au gratin du petit Paris. Il plonge aussi plus profond dans le travail d鈥檕bservation et de description. Les deux morceaux de r茅sistance dans Le c么t茅 de Guermantes sont : d鈥檜ne part la matin茅e chez Mme de Villeparisis, d鈥檃utre part le d卯ner chez les Guermantes. Il s鈥檃git, dans les deux cas, d鈥櫭﹑isodes copieux (plus d鈥檜ne centaine de pages chacun) o霉, du seul point de vue ph茅nom茅nologique, il ne se passe gu猫re plus qu鈥檜ne conversation mondaine un peu d茅cousue sur des sujets vari茅s (parmi lesquels, l鈥橝ffaire Dreyfus n鈥檈st pas des moindres). Proust, cependant, indique, comme en passant, quelle est son intention en ce qui concerne son portrait des Guermantes :
Je ne cherchais qu鈥檜n plaisir po茅tique. Sans le conna卯tre eux-m锚mes, ils me le procuraient comme eussent fait des laboureurs ou des matelots parlant de culture et de mar茅es, r茅alit茅s trop peu d茅tach茅es d鈥檈ux-m锚mes pour qu鈥檌ls puissent y go没ter la beaut茅 que personnellement je me chargeais d鈥檈n extraire. (Pl茅iade, t. II, p. 825)
Ainsi, non seulement Proust 茅vite de donner de ce milieu social une sorte d鈥檈squisse pittoresque, mais c鈥檈st pr茅cis茅ment l脿 qu鈥檌l d茅ploie tout le g茅nie de ses observations et le mordant de son ironie : chaque geste, chaque parole, chaque 茅l茅ment vestimentaire, chaque pi猫ce d鈥檃meublement ou de d茅coration est 茅pluch茅, d茅pec茅, d茅soss茅 sous la plume de Proust qui, sans cesse, semble vouloir sonder sous l鈥櫭﹑iderme des faits, prendre une sorte de tangente humoristique, linguistique, onomastique, historique, m茅taphysique, et, ce faisant, fait s鈥櫭ヽouler le temps lui-m锚me comme au ralenti, pris dans une substance sirupeuse, toujours a la limite de la cristallisation, la mati猫re m锚me de son roman, telle une r茅sine fossilis茅e.
Je note pour conclure (provisoirement) que certains moments du C么t茅 de Guermantes resteront sans doute grav茅s dans ma m茅moire : les sc猫nes ou apparaissent le baron de Charlus (inspir茅 par le comte Robert de Montesquiou, que Proust avait fr茅quent茅), ainsi que celles avec le duc de Guermantes (avatar du comte Henry Greffulhe), ont toutes un grain d鈥檃ffectation, de goujaterie, presque d鈥檌mpudeur, que je trouve tout 脿 fait vivifiant. A cet 茅gard, l鈥櫭﹑isode final du roman (la sc猫ne des souliers rouges), ou Swann fait une derni猫re et courte apparition, est un bijou ou se m锚lent de mani猫re presque d茅chirante les deux mouvements contraires de la bouffonnerie et du fun猫bre.
> Vol. pr茅c茅dent : 脌 l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs
> Vol. suivant : Sodome et Gomorrhe
September 3, 2024
In the first two volumes (I argue, anyway, in ), Proust was most interested in putting romantic relationships under the microscope. He returns to that theme later on in the series, but in the third book he is primarily concerned with picking apart the concept of wit, more exactly, esprit, something that has always been terribly important to the French upper classes. If you want an easier tour of the subject, you might like to check out Leconte's 1996 movie Ridicule
As usual in Proust, a vast number of things happen, and the language is very beautiful, so I'm only giving the barest of bare bones. The narrator develops a major crush on the Duchesse de Guermantes, Paris's most charming, fashionable, and above all witty hostess. It's kind of embarrassing at first: he pretty much stalks her. But, after a while, he manages to get into her highly exclusive social circle, and appreciate all that sparkling esprit at first hand. People sometimes criticize Proust for not being amusing, but this book is the exception. The Duchesse is, in fact, pretty damn funny a lot of the time. I particularly like her 诲茅蝉颈苍惫辞濒迟耻谤别 as she comments on the Duc's interminable series of mistresses, and how much trouble they always cause her.
What's both fascinating and rather scary is the way in which Proust then focuses his analytical intelligence on the Duchesse's wit. Instead of just enjoying it, he decides to pick it to pieces. He's almost too successful in this attempt: a good part of me wished he hadn't done it. What was originally sparkling becomes trite and mechanical. She's got a number of formulas, and she rings the changes on them. I shouldn't have looked at the man behind the curtain. It's all part of Proust's overall program, and it's thematic, so I guess I shouldn't complain; the true reward for reading him is supposed to be at a higher level. All the same, it would be nice to get some straightforward pleasure every now and then without him insisting on ruining it immediately afterwards. His analysis reminds me of the following well-known lines from T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral:
___________________________
After posting my review of The Information a couple of days ago, I started to wonder what other books there were which directly address the 欧宝娱乐 experience. It occurred to me that Le C么t茅 de Guermantes was a strong contender. Literary salons have passed into the realm of myth, so you don't immediately recognize one when it comes along, but 欧宝娱乐 does indeed seem to have many of the qualities you find in descriptions from 19th century and early 20th century novels. We're all sitting around trying to dazzle each other with our witty sallies, and there is a definite cachet attached to being friendly with the pickier reviewing stars.
And, just as in Proust, you discover how hard it is to maintain a high standard of esprit. Over and over again, you see the phenomenon he describes here: you're first captivated by someone's brilliant 补辫别谤莽耻蝉, then, having become familiar with their style, you start anticipating them. In the end, they become predictable and boring, and you move on to admiring someone else.
I hope I haven't ruined too many people's days by pointing this out, and I'm honestly not thinking of anyone in particular. It's everyone; it's part of the human condition. Damn Proust for noticing that and explaining it so well.
As usual in Proust, a vast number of things happen, and the language is very beautiful, so I'm only giving the barest of bare bones. The narrator develops a major crush on the Duchesse de Guermantes, Paris's most charming, fashionable, and above all witty hostess. It's kind of embarrassing at first: he pretty much stalks her. But, after a while, he manages to get into her highly exclusive social circle, and appreciate all that sparkling esprit at first hand. People sometimes criticize Proust for not being amusing, but this book is the exception. The Duchesse is, in fact, pretty damn funny a lot of the time. I particularly like her 诲茅蝉颈苍惫辞濒迟耻谤别 as she comments on the Duc's interminable series of mistresses, and how much trouble they always cause her.
What's both fascinating and rather scary is the way in which Proust then focuses his analytical intelligence on the Duchesse's wit. Instead of just enjoying it, he decides to pick it to pieces. He's almost too successful in this attempt: a good part of me wished he hadn't done it. What was originally sparkling becomes trite and mechanical. She's got a number of formulas, and she rings the changes on them. I shouldn't have looked at the man behind the curtain. It's all part of Proust's overall program, and it's thematic, so I guess I shouldn't complain; the true reward for reading him is supposed to be at a higher level. All the same, it would be nice to get some straightforward pleasure every now and then without him insisting on ruining it immediately afterwards. His analysis reminds me of the following well-known lines from T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral:
Man's life is a cheat and disappointment;I like this passage for the same reason I like Le C么t茅 de Guermantes; it expresses despair in a wonderfully elegant way.
All things are unreal,
Unreal and disappointing:
The Catherine wheel, the pantomime cat,
The prizes given at the children's party,
The prize awarded for the English Essay,
The scholar's degree, the statesman's decoration,
All things become less real, man passes
From unreality to unreality.
___________________________
After posting my review of The Information a couple of days ago, I started to wonder what other books there were which directly address the 欧宝娱乐 experience. It occurred to me that Le C么t茅 de Guermantes was a strong contender. Literary salons have passed into the realm of myth, so you don't immediately recognize one when it comes along, but 欧宝娱乐 does indeed seem to have many of the qualities you find in descriptions from 19th century and early 20th century novels. We're all sitting around trying to dazzle each other with our witty sallies, and there is a definite cachet attached to being friendly with the pickier reviewing stars.
And, just as in Proust, you discover how hard it is to maintain a high standard of esprit. Over and over again, you see the phenomenon he describes here: you're first captivated by someone's brilliant 补辫别谤莽耻蝉, then, having become familiar with their style, you start anticipating them. In the end, they become predictable and boring, and you move on to admiring someone else.
I hope I haven't ruined too many people's days by pointing this out, and I'm honestly not thinking of anyone in particular. It's everyone; it's part of the human condition. Damn Proust for noticing that and explaining it so well.
March 30, 2024
This third volume of Research ventures into the Faubourg Saint Germain, an aristocratic land. In this famous "side of Guermantes," the narrator surprisingly manages to enter the living room of the Duchess of Guermantes thanks to his intellectual and literary qualities.
As he appears Balbec and his country in the previous volume, with the images constructed and dreamed of from his simple name, he balances his fantasized vision of this world of the high nobility with what he sees, feels, and hears during dinners and routes to which he is regularly invited. Suffice it to say that the shift is just as radical as for Balbec and that the disillusion is complete. Reality does not match an image that is always too idealized. The narrator realizes that aristocratic as they are, the inhabitants of the beautiful hotels of the Faubourg Saint Germain are men and women like the others. The incarnation kills the dream.
Moreover, the dream is a theme dear to Proust; like all the intellectuals of his time, he explores its riches. Although formally far removed from the Surrealists, he had the same concerns.
Although painting the salons is sometimes a little long and tedious, especially at Madame de Villeparisis, I was again dazzled by Proust's extreme thoroughness when he attached himself to an idea. He works, hollows, and hammers it to extract unexpected flavors and impressions.
As he appears Balbec and his country in the previous volume, with the images constructed and dreamed of from his simple name, he balances his fantasized vision of this world of the high nobility with what he sees, feels, and hears during dinners and routes to which he is regularly invited. Suffice it to say that the shift is just as radical as for Balbec and that the disillusion is complete. Reality does not match an image that is always too idealized. The narrator realizes that aristocratic as they are, the inhabitants of the beautiful hotels of the Faubourg Saint Germain are men and women like the others. The incarnation kills the dream.
Moreover, the dream is a theme dear to Proust; like all the intellectuals of his time, he explores its riches. Although formally far removed from the Surrealists, he had the same concerns.
Although painting the salons is sometimes a little long and tedious, especially at Madame de Villeparisis, I was again dazzled by Proust's extreme thoroughness when he attached himself to an idea. He works, hollows, and hammers it to extract unexpected flavors and impressions.
December 27, 2020
The last time I read Proust I got bogged down in this part and the same thing nearly happened again this time. Given how otherworldly brilliant Proust can be it's extraordinary how bloody boring he can also be. Much of this volume is dedicated to anatomising French high society with whom he's garrulously starstruck. From what I know of Proust he spent a lot of his early life social climbing. In part, his book is an attempt to transfigure into art all that ostensibly wasted time. For me, literature has given us better dramatisations of the pitfalls of social climbing - Great Expectations springs immediately to mind. There's a lot of discussion of Dreyfus and Jews in general which hasn't aged well. Same with lots of the detail of social etiquette (though probably invaluable to anyone researching French high society in that period.) As a result often I had to force myself not to skim read. I couldn't help thinking of Brideshead Revisited now and again and how Waugh, though starstruck like Proust, undresses his aristocrats with so much more incisive economy.
Outside of his family, women for Proust seem to be either snakes or ladders. It's interesting how scornfully dismissive he is, for example, of Rachel who, to me, is much more compelling as a character than his aristocratic women. I missed Swann and Odette, though the fabulously comic Charlus was a welcome addition to the cast.
All this said, I love how often in Proust a memory reveals itself to anticipate what's not yet happened. Memory as prophecy. So true of life. And like Christmas lights they all have to ignite to connect.
Outside of his family, women for Proust seem to be either snakes or ladders. It's interesting how scornfully dismissive he is, for example, of Rachel who, to me, is much more compelling as a character than his aristocratic women. I missed Swann and Odette, though the fabulously comic Charlus was a welcome addition to the cast.
All this said, I love how often in Proust a memory reveals itself to anticipate what's not yet happened. Memory as prophecy. So true of life. And like Christmas lights they all have to ignite to connect.
May 27, 2020
Names with Power
According to Proust, proper names imply a soul, even for inanimate objects like cities. If something has a proper name, it somehow lives and has some sort of spiritual coherence. And the existence of such names has a specific effect on human beings. It provokes them to join with proper names in a sort of search for what this nominal soul, and their own, might consist of.
Guermantes is such a proper name. Guermantes is a person, in the first instance the Duchess but also her husband Le Duc. Guermantes is also a place, or rather two particular places, a castle in the country and a Parisian residence in the Faubourg St. Germain. Further removed, but also denoted by the proper name, Guermantes is a dispersed set of estates in space, and a corresponding family history which chronicles their acquisition and management in time.
All of these denotations, according to Proust's theory, have a soul to be searched for and explored. But it is not the person or place that is to be investigated; it is the proper noun itself. Thus, for example, the actress Berman, by whom the younger Marcel was captivated, no longer has a soul for him. The concrete person is vacuous and her name has no real significance except as a good actress. No longer an archetype of Woman, she has been reduced to 'that actress', not even a proper noun. Although he admires her theatrical skill, she has lost all power in Marcel's life.
On the other hand, Guermantes is a name with power, not archetypal but singular power. It is a word that, like all proper nouns, has a meaning that exceeds its denotations. It is a word that can only be described as having a life of its own. It is self-referential. And such a proper noun is powerful precisely to the degree of its self-referentiality. It is bigger than its denotation, not in the sense of suggesting something 'beyond' but because it attracts meaning to itself.
So, the Duchess Guermantes, although fashionable, is a fairly unimpressive woman. Out of the context of her proper name she might be considered merely ordinary. But her salon is the most sought-after in Paris. Guermantes castle is insignificant militarily and architecturally; but it us enmeshed in a sort of regal nostalgia which seems a part of the French national psyche since the Revolution. The Guermantes family name itself has no ancient pedigree; but it has emotional and social 'connections' which allow it to be treated as if it had. Its history is a symbol for the history of all of France.
Words with power condense inarticulate feelings into articulate myths and ideals. But however articulate these myths and ideals, they are unanalyzable, first because their articulation is never stable and second because they are infinitely interpretable. Every interpretive statement about them becomes a component of their meaning and adds to their power.
This power of proper names appears to be supernatural, even more mysterious and potent than language in general. It emanates mysteriously from human interaction but is beyond the control of any individual, as all language is. But there is a character to proper nouns which is decidedly religious, even doctrinal. As Marcel says with some obvious religious emotion,
It is not possible to escape the power of these proper nouns. One cannot ignore them or unilaterally refrain from using them in one's vocabulary because they intrude continuously and intimately into one's life. Encountering Le Duc, for example, without knowing who he is or without using the correct form of address will evoke a humiliating response.
On the other hand, attempting to actively resist this power is futile. The power does not exist in the concrete embodiment of Le Duc, or his castle, or even of his wealth. It exists in his name itself. Its power is that of vocabulary not of politics or armaments. It is a power that is immune from individual effort to displace it. As is always the case with language, fighting it means isolating oneself utterly from one's fellow. The name derives its potency for all intents and purposes from another dimension.
Therefore one must submit to the power of these proper nouns, either by merely accepting their mythical and ideological demands, or by assimilating these demands into one's own personality. In this matter event, one discovers the motivation of ambition for the first time: the active desire to become a part of the word with power.
The recognition of ambition marks Marcel's transition into adulthood. The grown-up world is not one of the concrete reality of things. It is a world of the symbolic reality of proper names. Of course symbolism has always been important for Marcel - one thinks of the meanings suggested by church steeples, as well as the actress in previous volumes, for example. But the symbolism of these things was directed toward an ungraspable beyondness, a primitive spirituality, that evoked searching, as it were, past the symbol to some other reality. These symbols represented something internal to Marcel, whether purpose or destiny, he knew not. But they called him forth into himself.
Marcel's emergent adult symbolism is of a radically different sort. The symbols of proper nouns point not beyond themselves but only to themselves. This is the psychic sump of their self-referentiality. Their profound self-referentiality will eventually blind Marcel to his infantile symbolic quest altogether. His iconic symbolism will be steadily replaced by a sort of heretical symbolism which narrows and closely binds Marcel's perception. This is the Guermantes Way.
According to Proust, proper names imply a soul, even for inanimate objects like cities. If something has a proper name, it somehow lives and has some sort of spiritual coherence. And the existence of such names has a specific effect on human beings. It provokes them to join with proper names in a sort of search for what this nominal soul, and their own, might consist of.
Guermantes is such a proper name. Guermantes is a person, in the first instance the Duchess but also her husband Le Duc. Guermantes is also a place, or rather two particular places, a castle in the country and a Parisian residence in the Faubourg St. Germain. Further removed, but also denoted by the proper name, Guermantes is a dispersed set of estates in space, and a corresponding family history which chronicles their acquisition and management in time.
All of these denotations, according to Proust's theory, have a soul to be searched for and explored. But it is not the person or place that is to be investigated; it is the proper noun itself. Thus, for example, the actress Berman, by whom the younger Marcel was captivated, no longer has a soul for him. The concrete person is vacuous and her name has no real significance except as a good actress. No longer an archetype of Woman, she has been reduced to 'that actress', not even a proper noun. Although he admires her theatrical skill, she has lost all power in Marcel's life.
On the other hand, Guermantes is a name with power, not archetypal but singular power. It is a word that, like all proper nouns, has a meaning that exceeds its denotations. It is a word that can only be described as having a life of its own. It is self-referential. And such a proper noun is powerful precisely to the degree of its self-referentiality. It is bigger than its denotation, not in the sense of suggesting something 'beyond' but because it attracts meaning to itself.
So, the Duchess Guermantes, although fashionable, is a fairly unimpressive woman. Out of the context of her proper name she might be considered merely ordinary. But her salon is the most sought-after in Paris. Guermantes castle is insignificant militarily and architecturally; but it us enmeshed in a sort of regal nostalgia which seems a part of the French national psyche since the Revolution. The Guermantes family name itself has no ancient pedigree; but it has emotional and social 'connections' which allow it to be treated as if it had. Its history is a symbol for the history of all of France.
Words with power condense inarticulate feelings into articulate myths and ideals. But however articulate these myths and ideals, they are unanalyzable, first because their articulation is never stable and second because they are infinitely interpretable. Every interpretive statement about them becomes a component of their meaning and adds to their power.
This power of proper names appears to be supernatural, even more mysterious and potent than language in general. It emanates mysteriously from human interaction but is beyond the control of any individual, as all language is. But there is a character to proper nouns which is decidedly religious, even doctrinal. As Marcel says with some obvious religious emotion,
"... the presence of Jesus Christ in the host seemed to me no more a mystery than [the Duchess's] house in the Faubourg being situated on the right bank of the river and so near my bedroom in the morning. I could hear its carpets being beaten. But the line of demarcation that separated me from the Faubourg St. Germain seemed to me all the more real because it was purely ideal."
It is not possible to escape the power of these proper nouns. One cannot ignore them or unilaterally refrain from using them in one's vocabulary because they intrude continuously and intimately into one's life. Encountering Le Duc, for example, without knowing who he is or without using the correct form of address will evoke a humiliating response.
On the other hand, attempting to actively resist this power is futile. The power does not exist in the concrete embodiment of Le Duc, or his castle, or even of his wealth. It exists in his name itself. Its power is that of vocabulary not of politics or armaments. It is a power that is immune from individual effort to displace it. As is always the case with language, fighting it means isolating oneself utterly from one's fellow. The name derives its potency for all intents and purposes from another dimension.
Therefore one must submit to the power of these proper nouns, either by merely accepting their mythical and ideological demands, or by assimilating these demands into one's own personality. In this matter event, one discovers the motivation of ambition for the first time: the active desire to become a part of the word with power.
The recognition of ambition marks Marcel's transition into adulthood. The grown-up world is not one of the concrete reality of things. It is a world of the symbolic reality of proper names. Of course symbolism has always been important for Marcel - one thinks of the meanings suggested by church steeples, as well as the actress in previous volumes, for example. But the symbolism of these things was directed toward an ungraspable beyondness, a primitive spirituality, that evoked searching, as it were, past the symbol to some other reality. These symbols represented something internal to Marcel, whether purpose or destiny, he knew not. But they called him forth into himself.
Marcel's emergent adult symbolism is of a radically different sort. The symbols of proper nouns point not beyond themselves but only to themselves. This is the psychic sump of their self-referentiality. Their profound self-referentiality will eventually blind Marcel to his infantile symbolic quest altogether. His iconic symbolism will be steadily replaced by a sort of heretical symbolism which narrows and closely binds Marcel's perception. This is the Guermantes Way.
March 24, 2020
Viene de...
Lo mejor, los maravillosos retratos que Proust nos regala y con los que, siguiendo su propio consejo, disecciona cualquier fen贸meno social. Dos figuras, adem谩s de la suya propia, destacan en esta ocasi贸n por encima de cualquiera otra, su criada Fran莽oise y, naturalmente, Oriane, la duquesa de Guermantes. La primera es censurada, aunque discretamente admirada. La segunda es elevada a las m谩s altas cimas de la excelencia solo para gozar m谩s hondamente de su ca铆da en el abismo de su desprecio.
P.D. Proust gusta de describir edificios, paisajes, estancias, cuadros, rostros y figuras, pero soy incapaz de resistirme a terminar estos comentarios con esta maravillosa oda a una olla de leche puesta al fuego:
颁辞苍迟颈苍耻补谤谩...
鈥溾€uando una vez por cada mil pod铆a seguir al escritor hasta el final de su frase, lo que ve铆a era siempre de una gracia, de una verdad, de un encanto an谩logos a los que en otros tiempos hab铆a encontrado en la lectura de Bergotte, pero m谩s deliciosos.鈥�Por lo que a m铆 respecta, y en relaci贸n a Proust, pueden cambiar a Bergotte por casi cualquier escritor que yo haya le铆do y la frase anterior seguir谩 siendo igual de cierta. Sin embargo, esta parte de Guermantes presenta para m铆 un gran inconveniente. Muy centrada en los salones parisinos, Proust quiso que sinti茅ramos en carne propia el sopor que en 茅l provocaban tales saraos, y, aunque mantuvo inalterada mi fascinaci贸n por su prosa, su sarcasmo apenas fue suficiente para compensar tanta vacuidad, tanta pretenciosidad, tanta mezquindad y aristocr谩tica nada materializada en las incontables p谩ginas donde, sin escatimar comentario alguno, por m谩s insustancial que este sea, Proust nos presenta esas interminables veladas.
Lo mejor, los maravillosos retratos que Proust nos regala y con los que, siguiendo su propio consejo, disecciona cualquier fen贸meno social. Dos figuras, adem谩s de la suya propia, destacan en esta ocasi贸n por encima de cualquiera otra, su criada Fran莽oise y, naturalmente, Oriane, la duquesa de Guermantes. La primera es censurada, aunque discretamente admirada. La segunda es elevada a las m谩s altas cimas de la excelencia solo para gozar m谩s hondamente de su ca铆da en el abismo de su desprecio.
鈥淪emejantes a esas plantas a que un animal a quien est谩n enteramente unidas nutre con los alimentos que atrapa, come, digiere para ellas y les ofrece en su 煤ltimo y completamente asimilable residuo Fran莽oise viv铆a con nosotros en simbiosis; 茅ramos nosotros los que, con nuestras virtudes, con nuestra hacienda, con nuestro pie de vida, con nuestra situaci贸n, ten铆amos que encargarnos de elaborar las peque帽as satisfacciones de amor propio de que estaba formada.鈥�En efecto, Fran莽oise representa la existencia vicaria de los criados respecto de la vida de sus amos. Ellos son los primeros en alegrarse de sus 茅xitos sociales y de lamentar las injusticias que contra ellos se puedan cometer si no son honrados como les corresponde. Alabando tanto la virtud como la riqueza terminan por pensar que son lo mismo y sienten tanto orgullo por la posici贸n que ocupan en la casa en la que prestan sus servicios y por el deber que con ella tienen como el m谩s ultramontano de los arist贸cratas respecto de su propia alcurnia. Franca y descort茅s, buena y compasiva, dura y orgullosa, aguda y limitada, Fran莽oise fue la primera en ense帽ar a Marcel que los dem谩s son 鈥渦na sombra en que jam谩s podremos penetrar鈥na sombra en la que podemos alternativamente imaginarnos con asaz verosimilitud que brillan el odio como el amor.鈥� Intrigante declaraci贸n.
鈥淥riane de Guermantes, que es fina como un coral, maliciosa como un mono, que tiene dotes para todo, que hace acuarelas dignas de un gran pintor y versos como pocos grandes poetas los hacen, y ya saben ustedes que, por lo que se refiere a la familia, es de lo m谩s encopetado que hay, su abuela era la se帽orita de Montpensier, y ella es la d茅cimoctava Oriana de Guermantes sin un solo entronque desigual, es de la sangre m谩s pura, antigua de Francia.鈥�Oriane, la marquesa de Guermantes, es la cumbre de la sociedad aristocr谩tica de la 茅poca y la imagen que mejor la representa. Tras ser su gran amor secreto, su mayor anhelo, Marcel descubre, nuevamente decepcionado por la vida, que ella y su entorno 鈥渟e asemejaban m谩s a sus semejantes que a su propio nombre鈥�. Oriane, enterada de todo, sentaba c谩tedra sin saber de nada. Todos intentaban imitarla, ser admitidos en sus reuniones o gozar de su presencia en las propias, y, por encima de todo, evitar un mal comentario suyo que los avocara a la marginaci贸n social o profesional. Aunque presume de liberal, es desconsiderada y cruel con sus inferiores, muy capaz de vender a sus mejores amigos o familiares por un chascarrillo ingenioso y de ser el altavoz del cotilleo m谩s mezquino y cruel si con ello arrancaba alguna sonrisa a sus invitados. Ego铆sta y eg贸latra, es, a su pesar, mucho menos ingeniosa de lo que cree, m谩s esclava de su posici贸n social de lo que estar铆a dispuesta a admitir y, como no, profundamente antidreyfuista.
鈥淭oda esta cuesti贸n de Dreyfus no tiene m谩s que un inconveniente, y es que destruye la sociedad鈥� gentes conocidas, con las que me encuentro hasta en casa de mis primos porque forman parte de la Liga de la Patria Francesa, antijud铆a y no s茅 qu茅 m谩s, como si una opini贸n pol铆tica diese derecho a una calificaci贸n social.鈥�Pero por encima de todos los dem谩s, Marcel sigue siendo el gran personaje de la novela, ese ser tan atrayente como repulsivo que nos cautiva y nos confunde. Su inteligencia, su sensibilidad, su elegancia en el trato, su refinamiento, su inusitada necesidad de reconocimiento y aprobaci贸n social, su personalidad introspectiva, choca y de qu茅 manera con esa persona 谩vida de sensaciones capaz de ser arrastrado por el roce casual de un vestido a rodear con sus brazos 鈥渁 una transe煤nte aterrada鈥�.
鈥淯n plano inclinado acerca el deseo al goce lo suficientemente aprisa para que la simple belleza aparezca ya como un consentimiento.鈥�Una persona capaz de batirse en duelo y solo citarlo como de pasada, de una llamativa promiscuidad sexual que apenas esboza. Un esnob que ridiculiza a los esnobs y al que se le presupone un m茅rito art铆stico y un ingenio verbal para el halago y la maledicencia social del que solo tenemos indicios como actor del drama que relata, aunque, eso s铆, como autor lo haga con un ingenio y una maledicencia desbordante. Un ser contradictorio y complejo que disfruta m谩s del deseo de un placer futuro que del gozo de un placer presente, que siente siempre la resistencia de lo que persigue mientras lamenta la entrega lo que ya desde帽a, para quien un deseo frustrado puede transmutarse en amor con la misma facilidad que una pretensi贸n largamente ansiada se le disuelve, una vez conseguida, en amarga decepci贸n.
鈥淣o fue a ella a quien am茅, pero podr铆a haberlo sido y una de las razones por las que el gran amor que pronto iba a sentir result贸 el m谩s cruel fue la de decirme 鈥揳l recordar aquella velada鈥� que, si se hubieran modificado circunstancias muy sencillas, podr铆a haber reca铆do en otra, en la Sra. de Stermaria; as铆, pues, aplicado a la que me lo inspir贸 poco despu茅s, no era 鈥揷omo habr铆a deseado, sin embargo, y habr铆a necesitado tanto, creer鈥� absolutamente necesario y predestinado.鈥�
P.D. Proust gusta de describir edificios, paisajes, estancias, cuadros, rostros y figuras, pero soy incapaz de resistirme a terminar estos comentarios con esta maravillosa oda a una olla de leche puesta al fuego:
鈥淨uien ha quedado totalmente sordo no puede siquiera calentar junto a s铆 una olla de leche sin dejar de acechar con los ojos, sobre la tapadera abierta, el reflejo blanco, hiperb贸reo, semejante a una tempestad de nieve y que es la se帽al premonitoria a la que es prudente obedecer cortando -como el se帽or deten铆a las olas- la corriente el茅ctrica, pues ya el huevo ascendiente y espasm贸dico de la leche que hierve crece en unas elevaciones oblicuas, se infla, redondea algunas velas zozobrantes que hab铆an plegado la nata, lanza a la tormenta una de n谩car y la interrupci贸n de la corriente -si se conjura a tiempo la tormenta el茅ctrica- har谩 arremolinarse todas y las arrojar谩 a la deriva, convertidas en p茅talos de magnolia.鈥�
颁辞苍迟颈苍耻补谤谩...
June 3, 2019
Finally the scheme of the novel as a whole comes into view, as the narrator uses the characters of book two (the always-gallant St. Loup and the outmoded Madame de Villeparisis) to try to ascend socially to the "pinnacle" of Mme de Guermantes's legendary salon. But along the way, we encounter two beloved characters from book one who have drastically changed, who are shown not to fit into what's required of Marcel's new world view. Three highlights: An incredible tour de force Balzacian 100 pages at Madame de VilleParisis's that involves a fantastic comedy of errors with hats; the force of Charlus, who, though a problematic character w/r/t gay anxiety, is fantastically written; a trip to the theater that complicates interpersonal analysis from book 2 and ends with a memorable wave.
Now, there are problems too. You NEED to carefully read the Wikipedia page on the Dreyfus case before this volume, as all of Proust's Paris is swept up in the incredibly confusing vagaries of the case. Two sequences - one on military history, and somewhat disappointingly, the book's climactic dinner (which is an intentional disappointment, I know, and stylistically fascinating), read sluggishly. Proust's worldview is fundamentally flawed in all sorts of ways, but is presented as truth, which has its seductions but also its frustrations.
But there's so much that's fascinating here. His willful denial of plot conventions (the book abounds with spoilers) and refusal to focus on what most interests us really work. There's a European storm building up here and the novel ends on an excellent cliffhanger - for the first time, I started reading the next volume as soon as I finished.
Now, there are problems too. You NEED to carefully read the Wikipedia page on the Dreyfus case before this volume, as all of Proust's Paris is swept up in the incredibly confusing vagaries of the case. Two sequences - one on military history, and somewhat disappointingly, the book's climactic dinner (which is an intentional disappointment, I know, and stylistically fascinating), read sluggishly. Proust's worldview is fundamentally flawed in all sorts of ways, but is presented as truth, which has its seductions but also its frustrations.
But there's so much that's fascinating here. His willful denial of plot conventions (the book abounds with spoilers) and refusal to focus on what most interests us really work. There's a European storm building up here and the novel ends on an excellent cliffhanger - for the first time, I started reading the next volume as soon as I finished.
February 4, 2025
She was not yet dead. But I was already alone.
~~~
Volume III of Marcel Proust鈥檚, In Search of Lost Time, The Guermantes Way is my favorite volume in this long, brilliant tale. The Guermantes Way is a charming, clever read. Again, I say, Proust is brilliant.
Once more, Marcel Proust presents the reader with a vivid portrait of a France that actually did exist long ago and in a far off time, the Belle 脡poque; it has, sadly, passed into history. In The Guermantes Way we once more meet the aristocracy, already on their way out since the Revolution, but still clinging desperately to their social position; they are unaware that they are breathing their last breath. We also see the ascendancy of the bourgeoisie as evidenced by the popularity of the salon of the Verdurins and of Mme Swann. This is world that Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas would come to inhabit and eventually reign over after World War I.
In this world the reader witnesses characters rise in importance from humble or disreputable beginnings, such as the former courtesan Odette de Cr茅cy who is now, as Mme Swann, is a leader of bourgeois society, while her once aristocratic husband has lost significant clout as a result of marrying her. We witness a France split over the Dreyfus affair, which unmasked France鈥檚 ugly antisemitism and nationalist sentiments; we also come to appreciate the aristocrats who bravely accept the innocence of Dreyfus, and attempt to work for justice.
We eavesdrop on an intimate world where dinner parties, soir茅es, salons, and musical evenings are de rigueur; we follow Marcel into these gatherings ~~ seeing this world from his eyes ~~ as Proust punctures the pompous, mocks the ignorant, and exposes the minions and frauds. In The Guermantes Way Marcel fights alone with his obsessions and fears ~~ even while attending soir茅es and parties ~~ while we view Marcel鈥檚 Paris thru his eyes ~~ as a bonus we experience some marvelous comic moments. It is here that Marcel shares his ideas on art and literature ~~ which differ greatly from the opinions of the French Aristocracy. The discussions on art, literature and music are both fascinating and brilliant.
Thanks to both the character of Marcel, and Proust, the reader experiences brilliant art, music, literature, and so much more set against the background of a dying world ~~ a world of summers spent by the sea, the social season, and trips to Venice in the spring. Soon Marcel will take us on a journey to 鈥�
~~~
Volume III of Marcel Proust鈥檚, In Search of Lost Time, The Guermantes Way is my favorite volume in this long, brilliant tale. The Guermantes Way is a charming, clever read. Again, I say, Proust is brilliant.
Once more, Marcel Proust presents the reader with a vivid portrait of a France that actually did exist long ago and in a far off time, the Belle 脡poque; it has, sadly, passed into history. In The Guermantes Way we once more meet the aristocracy, already on their way out since the Revolution, but still clinging desperately to their social position; they are unaware that they are breathing their last breath. We also see the ascendancy of the bourgeoisie as evidenced by the popularity of the salon of the Verdurins and of Mme Swann. This is world that Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas would come to inhabit and eventually reign over after World War I.
In this world the reader witnesses characters rise in importance from humble or disreputable beginnings, such as the former courtesan Odette de Cr茅cy who is now, as Mme Swann, is a leader of bourgeois society, while her once aristocratic husband has lost significant clout as a result of marrying her. We witness a France split over the Dreyfus affair, which unmasked France鈥檚 ugly antisemitism and nationalist sentiments; we also come to appreciate the aristocrats who bravely accept the innocence of Dreyfus, and attempt to work for justice.
We eavesdrop on an intimate world where dinner parties, soir茅es, salons, and musical evenings are de rigueur; we follow Marcel into these gatherings ~~ seeing this world from his eyes ~~ as Proust punctures the pompous, mocks the ignorant, and exposes the minions and frauds. In The Guermantes Way Marcel fights alone with his obsessions and fears ~~ even while attending soir茅es and parties ~~ while we view Marcel鈥檚 Paris thru his eyes ~~ as a bonus we experience some marvelous comic moments. It is here that Marcel shares his ideas on art and literature ~~ which differ greatly from the opinions of the French Aristocracy. The discussions on art, literature and music are both fascinating and brilliant.
Thanks to both the character of Marcel, and Proust, the reader experiences brilliant art, music, literature, and so much more set against the background of a dying world ~~ a world of summers spent by the sea, the social season, and trips to Venice in the spring. Soon Marcel will take us on a journey to 鈥�
March 12, 2025
Update: Finished
Family Portrait, II, by Florine Stettheimer.
I鈥檓 just over halfway through this volume, but I鈥檝e been reading this for almost a year, so I thought I should give an update on my feelings on Proust, since I might die before finishing the entire novel.
As a child and teenager, the narrator (let鈥檚 just call him Marcel) was in love with the work of an author called Bergotte, modeled on Anatole France and John Ruskin, and maybe Proust himself: 鈥渋f he had hit upon some great truth, or upon the name of an historic cathedral, he would break off his narrative, and in an invocation, an apostrophe, a long prayer, would give free rein to those exhalations鈥� (Swann鈥檚 Way). Just over halfway into this volume, Bergotte, who is very sick, starts visiting Marcel, who we learn is no longer in love with him. His writing has become too familiar; his sentences are as ordinary as 鈥渢he furniture in my room and the carriages in the streets.鈥� 鈥淎ll the details were easily visible, not perhaps precisely as one had always seen them, but at any rate as one was accustomed to see them now.鈥� We learn that Marcel is in love with a new author:
鈥淏ut a new writer had recently begun to publish work in which the relations between things were so different from those that connected them for me that I could understand hardly anything of what he wrote. 鈥� Only I felt that it was not the sentence that was badly constructed but I myself that lacked the strength and agility necessary to reach the end. I would start afresh, striving tooth and nail to reach the point from which I would see the new relationships between things. And each time, after I had got about half-way through the sentence, I would fall back again鈥� And from then onwards I felt less admiration for Bergotte, whose limpidity struck me as a deficiency.鈥�
This reminds me of my first experience with Proust, which seems like a distant dream. Anyway, despite falling out of love with him, Bergotte is still a part of Marcel: he鈥檚 like a curtain, against whose velvet folds the New stands out in rich contrast (I fear it鈥檚 the same with me and Proust). Marcel falls out of love with Bergotte because he craves novelty, which he finds in the new author, for now, but it鈥檚 bound to wear off eventually, as it always does in Proust. Marcel is sure to lose interest鈥攑robably quickly. Habit, novelty, jaded appetites, excitement鈥攖hese are far more important themes in Proust than time and memory, which isn鈥檛 something you hear when climbing the lower slopes of Mount Proust, gingerly stepping over the dead bodies lying in the snow. (I鈥檓 not sure whether to count myself among their number.) All this is to say: I鈥檝e fallen out of love! But not for the reasons Proust would expect.
To be honest, I don鈥檛 like watching the narrator enter the social kaleidoscope of Belle 脡poque salons. I don鈥檛 like watching him change from a lovesick teenager into a manipulative social climber. I don鈥檛 like watching the characters he once worshipped be revealed as the shallow, selfish people they are, now that the poetic fog of Combray and Balbec is gone. I miss the weightlessness that would come over me, that sense of floating, like an astronaut, in infinite space. After the dreamy prose-poetry of Swann鈥檚 Way and Budding Grove, I can鈥檛 bear seeing the novel I loved so much turn into a minutely observed comedy of manners, like some grotesque parody of Jane Austen in which every fold of every dress is visible. Oh, I can鈥檛 bear it! What could justify this constant explosion of the events of a single evening鈥攁 dinner party, a soir茅e鈥攊nto hundreds of pages? They assume a mass of their own, all out of proportion to the novel in which they鈥檙e embedded. I try to turn the pages, and my arms are weighed down by a slothlike inertia. It鈥檚 all I can do not to sink into my chair. Rather than weightlessness, it鈥檚 like trying to walk on Jupiter鈥攊f you could walk on Jupiter, of course鈥攚here the force of gravity is more than twice that of Earth.
It鈥檚 become increasingly clear I shouldn鈥檛 write confidently about Proust until I鈥檝e finished the entire novel, but I also think it鈥檚 important to chart my changing impressions. If this is what reading Proust is like, I鈥檓 not sure I want to continue. I鈥檝e read that Time Regained is a return to the prose-poetry of the earlier volumes, which is one reason I鈥檝e got to try, as well as Sodom and Gomorrah, even though it鈥檒l probably be just as tedious as this one. If it weren鈥檛 for those two volumes, I wouldn鈥檛 even bother to finish this, except to say that I have finished this, but really, what鈥檚 the point? Most people I鈥檝e met have never even heard of Proust (or of Tolstoy <\3 ). I鈥檝e also that Proust originally planned a three-volume work: Swann鈥檚 Way, Guermantes Way (the book we know today as Within a Budding Grove), and Time Regained. Quite honestly, I think it would have been a much better novel if Proust had stuck to his original plan鈥攏ot because it鈥檇 be shorter, but because this is torture.
I鈥檝e fallen out of love! And it鈥檚 been a long, painful, and traumatic experience鈥攁s with Swann and Odette, or with Marcel and Gilberte, or with Saint-Loup and Rachel. It鈥檚 a pattern that seems to hold for all the love affairs in the novel. I guess it鈥檚 only fitting that it hold for my real-life love affair with Proust as well. Although it was much less exciting. There were no鈥� What鈥檚 the male word for 鈥渕istresses鈥�? There were no misters. If I continue to climb Mount Proust, it won鈥檛 be out of love, but out of pride. I鈥檓 sure I鈥檒l reach the top eventually, but I鈥檒l climb in fits and starts, while reading other, more interesting books, on the lookout for a glint in the snow, for a poignant reminder of what it was like to read those first two volumes (a poignant reminder, not a Proustian one鈥攚hat does it even mean to call something Proustian?*), but I doubt I鈥檒l find one until I reach the top.
鈥�
* Gopnik there are at least six Marcel Prousts:
鈥淭here鈥檚 the Period Proust, the Toulouse-Lautrec-like painter of the high life of the Belle 脡poque, who offers an unmatched picture both of riding in the Bois and of visiting the brothels near the Op茅ra; and the Philosophical Proust, whose thoughts on the nature of time supposedly derived from the ideas of Henri Bergson and are argued to have paralleled those of Einstein. There鈥檚 the Psychological Proust, whose analysis of human motives鈥攁bove all, of love and jealousy鈥攊s the real living core of his book; and the 鈥淧erverse鈥� Proust (as the eminent scholar Antoine Compagnon refers to him), who was among the first French authors to write quite openly about homosexuality. Then there is the Political Proust, the Jewish writer who diagrammed the fault line that the Dreyfus Affair first cracked in French society, and that the war pulled apart. Finally, there鈥檚 the Poetic Proust, the path茅tique Proust who writes the sentences and finds the phrases, and whose twilight intensity and violet-tinted charm make his Big Book one of the few that readers urge on friends rather than merely force on students.鈥�
I have to admit that the Philosophical Proust, the Perverse Proust, and the Poetic Proust are the only ones I really enjoy reading. And they鈥檝e been almost entirely absent in this volume so far鈥� Well, almost:
鈥淲e call that a leaden sleep, and it seems as though, even for a few moments after such a sleep is ended, one has oneself become a simple figure of lead. One is no longer a person. How then, searching for one鈥檚 thoughts, one鈥檚 personality, as one searches for a lost object, does one recover one鈥檚 own self rather than any other? Why, when one begins again to think, is it not a personality other than the previous one that becomes incarnate in one? One fails to see what dictates the choice, or why, among the millions of human beings one might be, it is on the being one was the day before that unerringly one lays one鈥檚 hand. What is it that guides us, when there has been a real interruption鈥攚hether it be that our unconsciousness has been complete or our dreams entirely different from ourselves? There has indeed been death, as when the heart has ceased to beat and a rhythmical traction of the tongue revives us. No doubt the room, even if we have seen it only once before, awakens memories to which other, older memories cling, or perhaps some were dormant in us, of which we now become conscious. The resurrection at our awakening鈥攁fter that beneficent attack of mental alienation which is sleep鈥攎ust after all be similar to what occurs when we recall a name, a line, a refrain that we had forgotten. And perhaps the resurrection of the soul after death is to be conceived as a phenomenon of memory.鈥�
Oh, Proust鈥�
Family Portrait, II, by Florine Stettheimer.
I鈥檓 just over halfway through this volume, but I鈥檝e been reading this for almost a year, so I thought I should give an update on my feelings on Proust, since I might die before finishing the entire novel.
As a child and teenager, the narrator (let鈥檚 just call him Marcel) was in love with the work of an author called Bergotte, modeled on Anatole France and John Ruskin, and maybe Proust himself: 鈥渋f he had hit upon some great truth, or upon the name of an historic cathedral, he would break off his narrative, and in an invocation, an apostrophe, a long prayer, would give free rein to those exhalations鈥� (Swann鈥檚 Way). Just over halfway into this volume, Bergotte, who is very sick, starts visiting Marcel, who we learn is no longer in love with him. His writing has become too familiar; his sentences are as ordinary as 鈥渢he furniture in my room and the carriages in the streets.鈥� 鈥淎ll the details were easily visible, not perhaps precisely as one had always seen them, but at any rate as one was accustomed to see them now.鈥� We learn that Marcel is in love with a new author:
鈥淏ut a new writer had recently begun to publish work in which the relations between things were so different from those that connected them for me that I could understand hardly anything of what he wrote. 鈥� Only I felt that it was not the sentence that was badly constructed but I myself that lacked the strength and agility necessary to reach the end. I would start afresh, striving tooth and nail to reach the point from which I would see the new relationships between things. And each time, after I had got about half-way through the sentence, I would fall back again鈥� And from then onwards I felt less admiration for Bergotte, whose limpidity struck me as a deficiency.鈥�
This reminds me of my first experience with Proust, which seems like a distant dream. Anyway, despite falling out of love with him, Bergotte is still a part of Marcel: he鈥檚 like a curtain, against whose velvet folds the New stands out in rich contrast (I fear it鈥檚 the same with me and Proust). Marcel falls out of love with Bergotte because he craves novelty, which he finds in the new author, for now, but it鈥檚 bound to wear off eventually, as it always does in Proust. Marcel is sure to lose interest鈥攑robably quickly. Habit, novelty, jaded appetites, excitement鈥攖hese are far more important themes in Proust than time and memory, which isn鈥檛 something you hear when climbing the lower slopes of Mount Proust, gingerly stepping over the dead bodies lying in the snow. (I鈥檓 not sure whether to count myself among their number.) All this is to say: I鈥檝e fallen out of love! But not for the reasons Proust would expect.
To be honest, I don鈥檛 like watching the narrator enter the social kaleidoscope of Belle 脡poque salons. I don鈥檛 like watching him change from a lovesick teenager into a manipulative social climber. I don鈥檛 like watching the characters he once worshipped be revealed as the shallow, selfish people they are, now that the poetic fog of Combray and Balbec is gone. I miss the weightlessness that would come over me, that sense of floating, like an astronaut, in infinite space. After the dreamy prose-poetry of Swann鈥檚 Way and Budding Grove, I can鈥檛 bear seeing the novel I loved so much turn into a minutely observed comedy of manners, like some grotesque parody of Jane Austen in which every fold of every dress is visible. Oh, I can鈥檛 bear it! What could justify this constant explosion of the events of a single evening鈥攁 dinner party, a soir茅e鈥攊nto hundreds of pages? They assume a mass of their own, all out of proportion to the novel in which they鈥檙e embedded. I try to turn the pages, and my arms are weighed down by a slothlike inertia. It鈥檚 all I can do not to sink into my chair. Rather than weightlessness, it鈥檚 like trying to walk on Jupiter鈥攊f you could walk on Jupiter, of course鈥攚here the force of gravity is more than twice that of Earth.
It鈥檚 become increasingly clear I shouldn鈥檛 write confidently about Proust until I鈥檝e finished the entire novel, but I also think it鈥檚 important to chart my changing impressions. If this is what reading Proust is like, I鈥檓 not sure I want to continue. I鈥檝e read that Time Regained is a return to the prose-poetry of the earlier volumes, which is one reason I鈥檝e got to try, as well as Sodom and Gomorrah, even though it鈥檒l probably be just as tedious as this one. If it weren鈥檛 for those two volumes, I wouldn鈥檛 even bother to finish this, except to say that I have finished this, but really, what鈥檚 the point? Most people I鈥檝e met have never even heard of Proust (or of Tolstoy <\3 ). I鈥檝e also that Proust originally planned a three-volume work: Swann鈥檚 Way, Guermantes Way (the book we know today as Within a Budding Grove), and Time Regained. Quite honestly, I think it would have been a much better novel if Proust had stuck to his original plan鈥攏ot because it鈥檇 be shorter, but because this is torture.
I鈥檝e fallen out of love! And it鈥檚 been a long, painful, and traumatic experience鈥攁s with Swann and Odette, or with Marcel and Gilberte, or with Saint-Loup and Rachel. It鈥檚 a pattern that seems to hold for all the love affairs in the novel. I guess it鈥檚 only fitting that it hold for my real-life love affair with Proust as well. Although it was much less exciting. There were no鈥� What鈥檚 the male word for 鈥渕istresses鈥�? There were no misters. If I continue to climb Mount Proust, it won鈥檛 be out of love, but out of pride. I鈥檓 sure I鈥檒l reach the top eventually, but I鈥檒l climb in fits and starts, while reading other, more interesting books, on the lookout for a glint in the snow, for a poignant reminder of what it was like to read those first two volumes (a poignant reminder, not a Proustian one鈥攚hat does it even mean to call something Proustian?*), but I doubt I鈥檒l find one until I reach the top.
鈥�
* Gopnik there are at least six Marcel Prousts:
鈥淭here鈥檚 the Period Proust, the Toulouse-Lautrec-like painter of the high life of the Belle 脡poque, who offers an unmatched picture both of riding in the Bois and of visiting the brothels near the Op茅ra; and the Philosophical Proust, whose thoughts on the nature of time supposedly derived from the ideas of Henri Bergson and are argued to have paralleled those of Einstein. There鈥檚 the Psychological Proust, whose analysis of human motives鈥攁bove all, of love and jealousy鈥攊s the real living core of his book; and the 鈥淧erverse鈥� Proust (as the eminent scholar Antoine Compagnon refers to him), who was among the first French authors to write quite openly about homosexuality. Then there is the Political Proust, the Jewish writer who diagrammed the fault line that the Dreyfus Affair first cracked in French society, and that the war pulled apart. Finally, there鈥檚 the Poetic Proust, the path茅tique Proust who writes the sentences and finds the phrases, and whose twilight intensity and violet-tinted charm make his Big Book one of the few that readers urge on friends rather than merely force on students.鈥�
I have to admit that the Philosophical Proust, the Perverse Proust, and the Poetic Proust are the only ones I really enjoy reading. And they鈥檝e been almost entirely absent in this volume so far鈥� Well, almost:
鈥淲e call that a leaden sleep, and it seems as though, even for a few moments after such a sleep is ended, one has oneself become a simple figure of lead. One is no longer a person. How then, searching for one鈥檚 thoughts, one鈥檚 personality, as one searches for a lost object, does one recover one鈥檚 own self rather than any other? Why, when one begins again to think, is it not a personality other than the previous one that becomes incarnate in one? One fails to see what dictates the choice, or why, among the millions of human beings one might be, it is on the being one was the day before that unerringly one lays one鈥檚 hand. What is it that guides us, when there has been a real interruption鈥攚hether it be that our unconsciousness has been complete or our dreams entirely different from ourselves? There has indeed been death, as when the heart has ceased to beat and a rhythmical traction of the tongue revives us. No doubt the room, even if we have seen it only once before, awakens memories to which other, older memories cling, or perhaps some were dormant in us, of which we now become conscious. The resurrection at our awakening鈥攁fter that beneficent attack of mental alienation which is sleep鈥攎ust after all be similar to what occurs when we recall a name, a line, a refrain that we had forgotten. And perhaps the resurrection of the soul after death is to be conceived as a phenomenon of memory.鈥�
Oh, Proust鈥�
December 10, 2017
丕诏乇 亘賴 丿賵乇踿 賳賵噩賵丕賳賶 乇丕賵賶 賲賶 倬乇丿丕禺鬲 賰賴 毓卮賯 賵 卮賵乇賴丕 賵 禺賷丕賱丕鬲 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丿乇 噩丕賳卮 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 亘賵丿貙 噩賱丿 爻賵賲 亘賴 丿賵乇踿 噩賵丕賳賶 丕卮 賲賶 倬乇丿丕夭丿 賰賴 爻禺鬲 丿賳亘丕賱 丿爻鬲 賵 倬丕 賰乇丿賳 賲賵賯毓賷鬲賶 丿乇 亘賷賳 賲丨賮賱 賴丕賶 丕卮乇丕賮賶 丕爻鬲.
賵 賴賲丕賳 胤賵乇 賰賴 丿乇 噩賱丿 丿賵賲 乇丕賵賶 亘丕 賲賵丕噩賴賴 亘丕 賵丕賯毓賷鬲 亘賶 賲丕賷诏賶 禺賷丕賱丕鬲 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 乇丕 丿乇蹖丕賮鬲貙 丿乇 噩賱丿 爻賵賲 倬爻 丕夭 鬲賱丕卮 賴丕賶 賮乇丕賵丕賳 亘乇丕賶 乇丕賴 賷丕賮鬲賳 亘賴 賲丨丕賮賱 丕卮乇丕賮賶 - 賰賴 亘賴 禺丕胤乇 亘爻鬲賴 亘賵丿賳卮丕賳 賵 賳丕賲 賴丕賶 倬乇 胤賳胤賳賴 卮丕賳 丌丿賲 乇丕 亘賴 丕賷賳 賮乇賷亘 丿趩丕乇 賲賶 賰賳賳丿 賰賴 趩賷夭賶 丕夭 毓馗賲鬲 賵 卮賰賵賴 丿乇 丌賳 賴丕爻鬲 - 賵賯鬲賶 亘賴 亘丕賱丕鬲乇賷賳 賲丨丕賮賱 丕卮乇丕賮賶 乇丕賴 賲賶 賷丕亘丿 倬賵趩賶 賵 丕亘鬲匕丕賱 丌賳 賴丕 乇丕 丿乇賰 賲賶 賰賳丿 賵 賴賲趩賵賳 賯亘賱 丕夭 亘賶 卮亘丕賴鬲 亘賵丿賳 禺賷丕賱 賵 賵丕賯毓賷鬲 爻乇禺賵乇丿賴 賲賶 卮賵丿.
賴賲趩賳丕賳 賰賴 賰鬲丕亘 賯亘賱 倬丿賷丿丕乇卮賳丕爻賶 毓卮賯 亘賵丿貙 丕賷賳 賰鬲丕亘 倬丿賷丿丕乇卮賳丕爻賶 丕卮乇丕賮賷鬲 丕爻鬲貙 倬乇賵爻鬲 亘丕 诏乇丿丌賵乇丿賳 禺氐賵氐賷丕鬲 趩賳丿 禺丕賳丿丕賳 丕卮乇丕賮賶 賵丕賯毓賶 丿乇 禺丕賳丿丕賳 禺賷丕賱賶 "诏乇賲丕賳鬲" 亘賴 鬲賵氐賷賮 賵 鬲丨賱賷賱 丌丿丕亘 賵 乇賮鬲丕乇賴丕賶 倬乇鬲噩賲賱 賵賱賶 鬲賵禺丕賱賶 丕賷賳 胤亘賯賴 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴. 賵 賴賲賷賳 鬲賵氐賷賮 賴丕 賵 鬲丨賱賷賱 賴丕賶 噩夭卅賶 賰賴 賵賯鬲賶 丿乇 噩賱丿 丿賵賲 賲毓胤賵賮 亘賴 毓卮賯 亘賵丿賳丿 禺賵丕賴 賳丕禺賵丕賴 賲賵噩亘 噩匕丕亘賷鬲 賵 賰卮卮 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賲賶 卮丿賳丿貙 賵賯鬲賶 賲毓胤賵賮 亘賴 丌丿丕亘 賵 乇爻賵賲 丕卮乇丕賮賶 卮賵賳丿 亘丕毓孬 賲賶 卮賵賳丿 賰鬲丕亘 賲賱丕賱 丌賵乇 诏乇丿丿貙 賵 賴乇 趩賴 丿乇 噩賱丿 賯亘賱賶 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 禺賵丿 乇丕 亘賴 鬲賵氐賷賮丕鬲 賳賵賷爻賳丿賴 丕夭 乇賵丨賷丕鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賶 賳夭丿賷賰 丨爻 賲賶 賰乇丿 賵 丕夭 丕賷賳 賳夭丿賷賰賶 亘賴 賴賷噩丕賳 賲賶 丌賲丿貙 丿乇 丕賷賳 噩賱丿 禺賵丿 乇丕 丕夭 鬲賵氐賷賮 賮囟丕賴丕賶 丕卮乇丕賮賶 丿賵乇 賲賶 亘賷賳丿貙 賲禺氐賵氐丕賸 趩賵賳 趩賳賷賳 賮囟丕賴丕賷賶 丕賲乇賵夭 丿賷诏乇 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇賳丿.
鬲賳賴丕 趩賷夭賶 賰賴 賰卮卮 賰鬲丕亘 乇丕 丨賮馗 賲賶 賰乇丿 胤賳夭 倬乇賵爻鬲 賵 胤毓賳賴 賴丕賶 亘賶 丕賲丕賳卮 亘賴 丕卮乇丕賮 亘賵丿貙 賵 賳賰丕鬲 噩匕丕亘賶 賰賴 丕賷賳 噩丕 賵 丌賳 噩丕 乇丕噩毓 亘賴 禺氐賵氐賷丕鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賶 賲賶 诏賮鬲貙 賵 賴賲趩賳賷賳 亘禺卮 賴丕賷賶 賰賴 丕夭 夭賳丿诏賶 賲丨賮賱賶 丿賵乇 賲賶 卮丿 賵 亘賴 鬲賵氐賷賮 夭賳丿诏賶 卮禺氐蹖 乇丕賵蹖 賲賶 倬乇丿丕禺鬲貙 丕夭 噩賲賱賴 丿賳亘丕賱踿 賲丕噩乇丕賶 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕卮 亘丕 丌賱亘乇鬲賷賳 賰賴 丕夭 噩賱丿 賯亘賱 賳丕鬲賲丕賲 賲丕賳丿賴 亘賵丿貙 賵賯丕蹖毓 賲乇亘賵胤 亘賴 賲乇诏 賲丕丿乇亘夭乇诏卮貙 賵 丌卮賳丕蹖蹖 丕卮 亘丕 丿賵卮丕乇賱賵爻 丿乇 丕賵丕禺乇 讴鬲丕亘.
賵 賴賲丕賳 胤賵乇 賰賴 丿乇 噩賱丿 丿賵賲 乇丕賵賶 亘丕 賲賵丕噩賴賴 亘丕 賵丕賯毓賷鬲 亘賶 賲丕賷诏賶 禺賷丕賱丕鬲 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 乇丕 丿乇蹖丕賮鬲貙 丿乇 噩賱丿 爻賵賲 倬爻 丕夭 鬲賱丕卮 賴丕賶 賮乇丕賵丕賳 亘乇丕賶 乇丕賴 賷丕賮鬲賳 亘賴 賲丨丕賮賱 丕卮乇丕賮賶 - 賰賴 亘賴 禺丕胤乇 亘爻鬲賴 亘賵丿賳卮丕賳 賵 賳丕賲 賴丕賶 倬乇 胤賳胤賳賴 卮丕賳 丌丿賲 乇丕 亘賴 丕賷賳 賮乇賷亘 丿趩丕乇 賲賶 賰賳賳丿 賰賴 趩賷夭賶 丕夭 毓馗賲鬲 賵 卮賰賵賴 丿乇 丌賳 賴丕爻鬲 - 賵賯鬲賶 亘賴 亘丕賱丕鬲乇賷賳 賲丨丕賮賱 丕卮乇丕賮賶 乇丕賴 賲賶 賷丕亘丿 倬賵趩賶 賵 丕亘鬲匕丕賱 丌賳 賴丕 乇丕 丿乇賰 賲賶 賰賳丿 賵 賴賲趩賵賳 賯亘賱 丕夭 亘賶 卮亘丕賴鬲 亘賵丿賳 禺賷丕賱 賵 賵丕賯毓賷鬲 爻乇禺賵乇丿賴 賲賶 卮賵丿.
丌賳 趩賴 賲蹖 诏賮鬲賳丿 賴賲賴 賴蹖趩 賵 倬賵趩 亘賵丿. 诏賮鬲诏賵 丿乇亘丕乇踿 賮乇丕賳爻 賴丕賱爻 蹖丕 禺爻賾鬲 賵 丌賳 賴賲 丨乇賮 夭丿賳 亘賴 賴賲丕賳 賱丨賳 賵 卮蹖賵踿 賲乇丿賲丕賳 賲毓賲賵賱蹖. 賲賴賲丕賳蹖 丕蹖 讴賴 亘丕 丌賳 賴丕蹖蹖 讴賴 丿乇 賴乇 噩丕蹖 亘蹖乇賵賳 丕夭 賮賵亘賵乇 爻賳 跇乇賲賳 (賲丨賱踿 丕卮乇丕賮蹖 倬丕乇蹖爻) 亘乇倬丕 賲蹖 卮丿 賴蹖趩 鬲賮丕賵鬲 丕爻丕爻蹖 賳丿丕卮鬲. 丌蹖丕 亘賴 乇丕爻鬲蹖 亘乇丕蹖 賲賴賲丕賳蹖 賴丕蹖蹖 趩賵賳 賲賴賲丕賳蹖 丌賳 卮亘 亘賵丿 讴賴 丌賳 讴爻丕賳 禺賵丿 乇丕 賲蹖 丌乇丕爻鬲賳丿 賵 亘賵乇跇賵丕賴丕 乇丕 亘賴 賲丨賮賱 賴丕蹖 丌賳 趩賳丕賳 亘爻鬲賴 卮丕賳 乇丕賴 賳賲蹖 丿丕丿賳丿責 亘乇丕蹖 趩賳丕賳 賲賴賲丕賳蹖 賴丕蹖蹖責 蹖讴 賱丨馗賴 亘丕賵乇 讴乇丿賲貙 丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 亘蹖卮 丕夭 丕賳丿丕夭賴 亘丕賵乇賳讴乇丿賳蹖 亘賵丿. 賲賳胤賯 爻丕丿賴 賲乇丕 亘賴 丕賳讴丕乇 丌賳 賵丕 賲蹖 丿丕卮鬲.
賴賲趩賳丕賳 賰賴 賰鬲丕亘 賯亘賱 倬丿賷丿丕乇卮賳丕爻賶 毓卮賯 亘賵丿貙 丕賷賳 賰鬲丕亘 倬丿賷丿丕乇卮賳丕爻賶 丕卮乇丕賮賷鬲 丕爻鬲貙 倬乇賵爻鬲 亘丕 诏乇丿丌賵乇丿賳 禺氐賵氐賷丕鬲 趩賳丿 禺丕賳丿丕賳 丕卮乇丕賮賶 賵丕賯毓賶 丿乇 禺丕賳丿丕賳 禺賷丕賱賶 "诏乇賲丕賳鬲" 亘賴 鬲賵氐賷賮 賵 鬲丨賱賷賱 丌丿丕亘 賵 乇賮鬲丕乇賴丕賶 倬乇鬲噩賲賱 賵賱賶 鬲賵禺丕賱賶 丕賷賳 胤亘賯賴 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴. 賵 賴賲賷賳 鬲賵氐賷賮 賴丕 賵 鬲丨賱賷賱 賴丕賶 噩夭卅賶 賰賴 賵賯鬲賶 丿乇 噩賱丿 丿賵賲 賲毓胤賵賮 亘賴 毓卮賯 亘賵丿賳丿 禺賵丕賴 賳丕禺賵丕賴 賲賵噩亘 噩匕丕亘賷鬲 賵 賰卮卮 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賲賶 卮丿賳丿貙 賵賯鬲賶 賲毓胤賵賮 亘賴 丌丿丕亘 賵 乇爻賵賲 丕卮乇丕賮賶 卮賵賳丿 亘丕毓孬 賲賶 卮賵賳丿 賰鬲丕亘 賲賱丕賱 丌賵乇 诏乇丿丿貙 賵 賴乇 趩賴 丿乇 噩賱丿 賯亘賱賶 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 禺賵丿 乇丕 亘賴 鬲賵氐賷賮丕鬲 賳賵賷爻賳丿賴 丕夭 乇賵丨賷丕鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賶 賳夭丿賷賰 丨爻 賲賶 賰乇丿 賵 丕夭 丕賷賳 賳夭丿賷賰賶 亘賴 賴賷噩丕賳 賲賶 丌賲丿貙 丿乇 丕賷賳 噩賱丿 禺賵丿 乇丕 丕夭 鬲賵氐賷賮 賮囟丕賴丕賶 丕卮乇丕賮賶 丿賵乇 賲賶 亘賷賳丿貙 賲禺氐賵氐丕賸 趩賵賳 趩賳賷賳 賮囟丕賴丕賷賶 丕賲乇賵夭 丿賷诏乇 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇賳丿.
鬲賳賴丕 趩賷夭賶 賰賴 賰卮卮 賰鬲丕亘 乇丕 丨賮馗 賲賶 賰乇丿 胤賳夭 倬乇賵爻鬲 賵 胤毓賳賴 賴丕賶 亘賶 丕賲丕賳卮 亘賴 丕卮乇丕賮 亘賵丿貙 賵 賳賰丕鬲 噩匕丕亘賶 賰賴 丕賷賳 噩丕 賵 丌賳 噩丕 乇丕噩毓 亘賴 禺氐賵氐賷丕鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賶 賲賶 诏賮鬲貙 賵 賴賲趩賳賷賳 亘禺卮 賴丕賷賶 賰賴 丕夭 夭賳丿诏賶 賲丨賮賱賶 丿賵乇 賲賶 卮丿 賵 亘賴 鬲賵氐賷賮 夭賳丿诏賶 卮禺氐蹖 乇丕賵蹖 賲賶 倬乇丿丕禺鬲貙 丕夭 噩賲賱賴 丿賳亘丕賱踿 賲丕噩乇丕賶 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕卮 亘丕 丌賱亘乇鬲賷賳 賰賴 丕夭 噩賱丿 賯亘賱 賳丕鬲賲丕賲 賲丕賳丿賴 亘賵丿貙 賵賯丕蹖毓 賲乇亘賵胤 亘賴 賲乇诏 賲丕丿乇亘夭乇诏卮貙 賵 丌卮賳丕蹖蹖 丕卮 亘丕 丿賵卮丕乇賱賵爻 丿乇 丕賵丕禺乇 讴鬲丕亘.
March 1, 2019
螆谓伪蟼 渭伪纬喂魏蠈蟼 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰蟼 渭蔚 位蠈纬喂伪, 未苇慰蟼 渭蟺蟻慰蟽蟿维 蟽蟿慰 蟺蟻慰谓蠈渭喂慰 蟺慰蠀 未委谓蔚蟿伪喂 谓伪 蟺位畏蟽喂维蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿伪 纬蟻伪蟺蟿维 蟿慰蠀 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿, 慰喂 蟺蟻慰蟿维蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 蔚喂谓伪喂 蔚喂魏慰谓喂魏维 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠀蟻纬萎渭伪蟿伪 伪蟺慰 渭蠈谓蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀蟼, 伪谓伪蟿蟻苇蟺慰蠀谓 渭慰蟻蠁苇蟼 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼 魏伪喂 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬慰蠉谓 谓苇蔚蟼 蟿慰位渭畏蟻苇蟼 渭慰蟻蠁苇蟼 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪蟼, 渭慰蟻蠁苇蟼 蟺慰蠀 未喂蔚蠀蟻蠉谓慰蠀谓 蟺蟿蠀蠂苇蟼 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼, 渭喂伪蟼 味蠅萎蟼 蟽蔚 伪谓伪味萎蟿畏蟽畏 魏伪喂蟻慰蠉-蠂蟻蠈谓慰蠀, 渭喂伪蟼 味蠅萎蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭蔚 蟿苇蟿慰喂慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 未蔚谓 苇蠂蔚喂 蔚魏蟿蔚胃蔚委 蟺慰蟿苇 蟽蔚 蟿蠀蟺蠅渭苇谓畏 蟽蔚位委未伪.
....韦蠈蟿蔚, 魏伪蟿伪位伪尾伪委谓蔚喂蟼, 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 未喂伪尾维蟽蔚喂蟼 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿, 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 未蔚蠂蟿蔚委蟼 蔚渭尾蠈位喂渭伪, 渭谓萎渭蔚蟼, 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃萎渭伪蟿伪, 蟺谓蔚蠀渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蔚纬魏伪蟿维位蔚喂蠄畏, 蟺位伪蟿蠅谓喂魏慰蠉蟼 苇蟻蠅蟿蔚蟼, 蟿蟻伪纬喂魏苇蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓蔚蟼 魏蠅渭蠅未委蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟺慰位位萎 伪纬维蟺畏.
螒纬维蟺畏 纬蔚谓喂魏蠈蟿蔚蟻伪, 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蔚 慰渭委蠂位畏, 蟺维谓蠅 伪蟺慰 位委渭谓蔚蟼 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃畏渭维蟿蠅谓. 螣渭慰蠁蠀位慰蠁喂位喂魏萎 伪纬维蟺畏, 蟺慰蠀 渭伪胃伪委谓蔚喂 谓伪 蟺伪委味蔚喂 魏蟻蠀蠁蟿蠈, 渭蔚蟿蟻蠋谓蟿伪蟼 伪谓蟿委蟽蟿蟻慰蠁伪, 渭维蟿喂伪 伪谓慰喂蠂蟿维 魏伪喂 蟽伪蟻魏喂魏维 蟽蠉渭尾慰位伪 魏维蟺蠅蟼 蟺喂慰 蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓伪
韦慰 蟿蟻委蟿慰 渭苇蟻慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 芦螒谓伪味畏蟿蠋谓蟿伪蟼 蟿慰谓 蠂伪渭苇谓慰 蠂蟻蠈谓慰禄, 芦螒蟺慰 蟿畏谓 渭蔚蟻喂维 蟿蠅谓 螕魏蔚蟻渭维谓蟿禄 蔚委谓伪喂 尾伪胃蠉蟺位慰蠀蟿慰 蟽蔚 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓伪蟻蟺伪蟽蟿喂魏苇蟼 蟺伪蟻伪蟿畏蟻萎蟽蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 伪蠁慰蟻慰蠉谓 蟿畏谓 魏伪蟿伪谓蠈畏蟽畏 蠈位蠅谓 蟿蠅谓 伪蟿蔚位蔚喂蠋谓 蟿畏蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏蟼 蠁蠉蟽畏蟼.
螘未蠋, 慰 渭喂魏蟻蠈蟼 伪蠁畏纬畏蟿萎蟼 渭伪蟼 伪蟺慰魏蟿维 蟺蟻蠈蟽尾伪蟽畏 蟽蟿畏谓 蔚位委蟿 蟿畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 螤伪蟻喂蟽喂慰蠉. 螤喂魏蟻委伪, 伪纬伪谓维魏蟿畏蟽畏, 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽渭蠈蟼, 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻, 魏伪蠀蟽蟿喂魏萎 蔚喂蟻蠅谓委伪, 蟺伪蟻伪蟺位伪谓畏蟿喂魏萎 胃蠉蔚位位伪 渭伪蟿伪喂慰未慰尉委伪蟼 魏伪喂 伪蟺慰未蠈渭畏蟽畏 蟺蟻慰蟽蠋蟺蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪尉喂蠋谓.
螤伪蟻苇蠂蔚喂 位蔚蟺蟿慰渭蔚蟻苇蟼 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻伪委蟿慰 蟿蠅谓 位蔚喂蟿慰蠀蟻纬喂蠋谓 蟿畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂魏萎蟼 伪位位畏位蔚蟺委未蟻伪蟽畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 蠀蟺慰魏蔚委渭蔚谓蔚蟼 未蠀谓维渭蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 未委谓慰蠀谓 魏委谓畏蟿蟻伪, 蟺慰蠀 蟺伪蟻伪魏喂谓慰蠉谓 魏伪喂 伪位位慰喂蠋谓慰蠀谓 蟿畏谓 伪蟽蟿喂魏萎 蟿维尉畏.
螒谓蟿喂渭蔚蟿蠅蟺委味蔚喂 渭蔚 伪蟺慰纬慰萎蟿蔚蠀蟽畏 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰魏蟻维蟿蔚蟼 纬蟻维蠁慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭喂伪 纬位蠀魏蠈蟺喂魏蟻畏 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿蔚委伪 蟿蠈蟽慰 伪蟺慰位蠀蟿畏 魏伪喂 蔚尉伪魏蟻喂尾蠅渭苇谓畏 蟺慰蠀 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 蟺伪纬蔚喂蠅渭苇谓伪 渭喂伪 伪蟺蟻慰蟽渭苇蟿蟻畏蟿畏 伪蟺慰纬慰萎蟿蔚蠀蟽畏.
螣 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 蟿慰蟺慰胃蔚蟿蔚委 蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蟽蟿慰谓 魏蠈蟽渭慰 蟺慰蠀 尾委蠅蟽蔚 苇谓蟿慰谓伪 魏伪喂 蟿慰蠀 蠂伪蟻委味蔚喂 渭喂伪 蔚渭蟺蔚喂蟻委伪 慰位慰魏位畏蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎蟼 伪蟺慰蟻蟻蠈蠁畏蟽畏蟼.
螣 螠蟺伪位味维魏 伪蟺蔚喂魏蠈谓喂蟽蔚 渭蔚 蠈位伪 蟿伪 蠂蟻蠋渭伪蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 魏喂谓萎蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓蟿慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 蟿畏谓 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 蟿慰蠀 螤伪蟻喂蟽喂慰蠉 蠅蟼 渭喂伪 芦伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏 魏蠅渭蠅未委伪禄.
螣 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 渭蔚 渭蔚纬维位慰 蠂蟻蠅渭伪蟿喂魏蠈,蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃畏渭伪蟿喂魏蠈, 位蔚蟺蟿蠈 魏伪喂 蔚蠀伪委蟽胃畏蟿慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 伪蟺蔚喂魏蠈谓喂蟽畏蟼 慰喂魏蔚喂慰蟺慰喂蔚委蟿伪喂 蠈位伪 蟿伪 蟺慰位蠉蟺位慰魏伪 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓伪 未蟻蠋渭蔚谓伪.
螚 蟽魏位畏蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪, 蟺慰蠀 胃蔚蠅蟻蔚委蟿伪喂 伪蟺位萎 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏 伪谓蟿委未蟻伪蟽畏 蟺伪蟻慰蠀蟽喂维味蔚蟿伪喂 伪蟺慰 蟿慰谓 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 谓伪 蔚蟺喂蟿蟻苇蟺蔚喂 蟽蟿慰谓 伪蠁畏纬畏蟿萎 苇谓伪 尾伪胃蠉 魏伪喂 伪蟽蠀谓蔚委未畏蟿慰 未喂伪位慰纬喂蟽渭蠈 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 魏伪蟿蠅蟿蔚蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪蟽蠂萎渭喂伪 蟿畏蟼 渭伪谓委伪蟼.
危蔚 魏维胃蔚 蟺蟻蠈蟿伪蟽畏 蟿慰蠀 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 蠀位喂魏蠈 纬喂伪 谓伪 纬蟻伪蠁蟿蔚委 慰位蠈魏位畏蟻慰 尾喂尾位委慰, 尾维胃畏 蟽蠀位位慰纬喂蟽渭蠋谓 魏伪喂 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻伪蟽渭维蟿蠅谓 渭蔚 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏萎 蟿伪蠉蟿喂蟽畏 纬喂伪 魏维胃蔚 慰谓蔚喂蟻蔚蠀蟿萎 蟺慰蠀 蟿伪尉喂未蔚蠉蔚喂 渭伪味委 蟿慰蠀 蟽蟿慰谓 蠂蠋蟻慰 魏伪喂 蟿慰谓 蠂蟻蠈谓慰.
螣喂 渭蔚蟿伪蠁慰蟻苇蟼 蟽蠂蔚蟿喂魏维 渭蔚 蟿畏 蠁蠉蟽畏 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蟿苇蠂谓畏 蔚喂蟽蠂蠅蟻慰蠉谓 蟿蠈蟽慰 蔚渭渭慰谓喂魏维 蟽蟿慰 渭蠀伪位蠈 蟿慰蠀 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蠋蟽蟺慰蠀 伪蟻蠂委味蔚喂 谓伪 尾位苇蟺蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 蟺蔚蟻喂纬蟻伪蠁苇蟼, 蟿慰蠀蟼 未喂伪位蠈纬慰蠀蟼, 蟿喂蟼 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻苇蟼, 蟺蔚蟻谓蠋谓蟿伪蟼 伪渭苇蟿蟻畏蟿蔚蟼 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿伪 蟽伪位蠈谓喂伪 蟿畏蟼 蠀蠄畏位萎蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 魏伪喂 伪谓维渭蔚蟽伪 蟽蔚 蟺伪蟻维尉蔚谓伪 蟺伪喂蠂谓委未喂伪 蟽蠂苇蟽蔚蠅谓, 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻维蟼, 蟽蠀纬纬蔚谓喂魏蠋谓 蟺伪蟻伪纬蠈谓蟿蠅谓 纬蔚谓蔚伪位慰纬喂魏萎蟼 伪尉委伪蟼, 蟽蔚尉慰蠀伪位喂魏蠋谓 蟿维蟽蔚蠅谓 (蟺慰蠀 胃伪 未喂蔚蟻蔚蠀谓畏胃慰蠉谓 伪蟻纬蠈蟿蔚蟻伪) 魏伪喂 未慰尉伪蟽渭苇谓蠅谓 蔚蟺喂纬伪渭喂蠋谓.
螠苇蟽蠅 蟿畏蟼 伪谓伪蠁慰蟻维蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 蠀蟺蠈胃蔚蟽畏 螡蟿蟻苇喂蠁慰蠀蟼 蟺慰蠀 蟽蠀谓蟿伪蟻维蟽蟽蔚喂 蟿畏谓 螕伪位位委伪 蟺伪蟻慰蠀蟽喂维味蔚蟿伪喂 慰 蟽谓慰渭蟺喂蟽渭蠈蟼 渭喂伪蟼 蠁慰尾喂蟽渭苇谓畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪喂蟻蔚委蟿伪喂 魏伪喂 伪谓蟿喂未蟻维 蟽蟺伪蟽渭蠅未喂魏维. 螚 蠀蟺蠈胃蔚蟽畏 伪蠀蟿萎 蟺慰蠀 伪蟺伪蟽蠂慰位蔚委 喂未喂伪喂蟿苇蟻蠅蟼 蟿慰谓 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 蟿慰 渭苇蟽慰 蟺慰蠀 伪蟺蔚喂魏慰谓委味蔚喂 蟿伪 蟽蠀谓蔚蠂蠋蟼 渭蔚蟿伪尾伪位位蠈渭蔚谓伪 魏蟻喂蟿萎蟻喂伪, 渭苇蟽蠅 蟿蠅谓 慰蟺慰委蠅谓 慰喂 蟺慰位喂蟿喂魏慰委, 蟽蟿蟻伪蟿喂蠅蟿喂魏慰委, 未喂魏伪蟽蟿喂魏慰委 魏伪喂 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰魏蟻伪蟿喂魏慰委 蟽谓慰渭蟺 魏蠉魏位慰喂, 胃蔚蠅蟻慰蠉蟽伪谓 魏维蟺慰喂慰谓 蠅蟼 渭苇蟻慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 慰渭维未伪蟼 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭畏蟿蠋谓 蟽蠂苇蟽蔚蠅谓.
螣 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 蟽蠀谓蔚蠂委味蔚喂 谓伪 蔚蟻纬维味蔚蟿伪喂 纬喂伪 谓伪 蟺蔚蟻喂纬蟻维蠄蔚喂 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪纬蠅谓喂味蠈渭蔚谓慰蠀蟼 蟽蠀谓蟿慰谓喂蟽蟿苇蟼 蟿慰蠀 蠁伪委谓蔚蟽胃伪喂 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蟺伪蟻维位慰纬蠅谓 蔚蟺喂魏蟻委蟽蔚蠅谓 蟽蔚 魏维胃蔚 魏伪蟿畏纬慰蟻喂慰蟺慰委畏蟽畏. 螒蟽蠂慰位蔚委蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 蟽蟿蟻伪蟿喂蠅蟿喂魏萎 蟽蟿蟻伪蟿畏纬喂魏萎, 蟿慰谓 蟽慰蟽喂伪位喂蟽渭蠈, 蟿慰谓 伪谓蟿喂蟽畏渭喂蟿喂蟽渭蠈 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蟿伪尉喂魏萎 蔚蠂胃蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪.
螘喂蟽蟺谓慰萎 ... 蔚魏蟺谓慰萎
危蠀谓蔚蠂委味蔚蟿伪喂 ..!
馃枻馃枻馃枻
螝伪位萎 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏!!
螤慰位位慰蠉蟼 伪蟽蟺伪蟽渭慰蠉蟼.
....韦蠈蟿蔚, 魏伪蟿伪位伪尾伪委谓蔚喂蟼, 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 未喂伪尾维蟽蔚喂蟼 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿, 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 未蔚蠂蟿蔚委蟼 蔚渭尾蠈位喂渭伪, 渭谓萎渭蔚蟼, 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃萎渭伪蟿伪, 蟺谓蔚蠀渭伪蟿喂魏萎 蔚纬魏伪蟿维位蔚喂蠄畏, 蟺位伪蟿蠅谓喂魏慰蠉蟼 苇蟻蠅蟿蔚蟼, 蟿蟻伪纬喂魏苇蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓蔚蟼 魏蠅渭蠅未委蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟺慰位位萎 伪纬维蟺畏.
螒纬维蟺畏 纬蔚谓喂魏蠈蟿蔚蟻伪, 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蔚 慰渭委蠂位畏, 蟺维谓蠅 伪蟺慰 位委渭谓蔚蟼 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃畏渭维蟿蠅谓. 螣渭慰蠁蠀位慰蠁喂位喂魏萎 伪纬维蟺畏, 蟺慰蠀 渭伪胃伪委谓蔚喂 谓伪 蟺伪委味蔚喂 魏蟻蠀蠁蟿蠈, 渭蔚蟿蟻蠋谓蟿伪蟼 伪谓蟿委蟽蟿蟻慰蠁伪, 渭维蟿喂伪 伪谓慰喂蠂蟿维 魏伪喂 蟽伪蟻魏喂魏维 蟽蠉渭尾慰位伪 魏维蟺蠅蟼 蟺喂慰 蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓伪
韦慰 蟿蟻委蟿慰 渭苇蟻慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 芦螒谓伪味畏蟿蠋谓蟿伪蟼 蟿慰谓 蠂伪渭苇谓慰 蠂蟻蠈谓慰禄, 芦螒蟺慰 蟿畏谓 渭蔚蟻喂维 蟿蠅谓 螕魏蔚蟻渭维谓蟿禄 蔚委谓伪喂 尾伪胃蠉蟺位慰蠀蟿慰 蟽蔚 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓伪蟻蟺伪蟽蟿喂魏苇蟼 蟺伪蟻伪蟿畏蟻萎蟽蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 伪蠁慰蟻慰蠉谓 蟿畏谓 魏伪蟿伪谓蠈畏蟽畏 蠈位蠅谓 蟿蠅谓 伪蟿蔚位蔚喂蠋谓 蟿畏蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏蟼 蠁蠉蟽畏蟼.
螘未蠋, 慰 渭喂魏蟻蠈蟼 伪蠁畏纬畏蟿萎蟼 渭伪蟼 伪蟺慰魏蟿维 蟺蟻蠈蟽尾伪蟽畏 蟽蟿畏谓 蔚位委蟿 蟿畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 蟿慰蠀 螤伪蟻喂蟽喂慰蠉. 螤喂魏蟻委伪, 伪纬伪谓维魏蟿畏蟽畏, 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽渭蠈蟼, 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻, 魏伪蠀蟽蟿喂魏萎 蔚喂蟻蠅谓委伪, 蟺伪蟻伪蟺位伪谓畏蟿喂魏萎 胃蠉蔚位位伪 渭伪蟿伪喂慰未慰尉委伪蟼 魏伪喂 伪蟺慰未蠈渭畏蟽畏 蟺蟻慰蟽蠋蟺蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪尉喂蠋谓.
螤伪蟻苇蠂蔚喂 位蔚蟺蟿慰渭蔚蟻苇蟼 蟺慰蟻蟿蟻伪委蟿慰 蟿蠅谓 位蔚喂蟿慰蠀蟻纬喂蠋谓 蟿畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂魏萎蟼 伪位位畏位蔚蟺委未蟻伪蟽畏蟼 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 蠀蟺慰魏蔚委渭蔚谓蔚蟼 未蠀谓维渭蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 未委谓慰蠀谓 魏委谓畏蟿蟻伪, 蟺慰蠀 蟺伪蟻伪魏喂谓慰蠉谓 魏伪喂 伪位位慰喂蠋谓慰蠀谓 蟿畏谓 伪蟽蟿喂魏萎 蟿维尉畏.
螒谓蟿喂渭蔚蟿蠅蟺委味蔚喂 渭蔚 伪蟺慰纬慰萎蟿蔚蠀蟽畏 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰魏蟻维蟿蔚蟼 纬蟻维蠁慰谓蟿伪蟼 渭喂伪 纬位蠀魏蠈蟺喂魏蟻畏 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿蔚委伪 蟿蠈蟽慰 伪蟺慰位蠀蟿畏 魏伪喂 蔚尉伪魏蟻喂尾蠅渭苇谓畏 蟺慰蠀 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 蟺伪纬蔚喂蠅渭苇谓伪 渭喂伪 伪蟺蟻慰蟽渭苇蟿蟻畏蟿畏 伪蟺慰纬慰萎蟿蔚蠀蟽畏.
螣 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 蟿慰蟺慰胃蔚蟿蔚委 蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蟽蟿慰谓 魏蠈蟽渭慰 蟺慰蠀 尾委蠅蟽蔚 苇谓蟿慰谓伪 魏伪喂 蟿慰蠀 蠂伪蟻委味蔚喂 渭喂伪 蔚渭蟺蔚喂蟻委伪 慰位慰魏位畏蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎蟼 伪蟺慰蟻蟻蠈蠁畏蟽畏蟼.
螣 螠蟺伪位味维魏 伪蟺蔚喂魏蠈谓喂蟽蔚 渭蔚 蠈位伪 蟿伪 蠂蟻蠋渭伪蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 魏喂谓萎蟽蔚喂蟼 蟿慰蠀 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓蟿慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 蟿畏谓 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪 蟿慰蠀 螤伪蟻喂蟽喂慰蠉 蠅蟼 渭喂伪 芦伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏 魏蠅渭蠅未委伪禄.
螣 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 渭蔚 渭蔚纬维位慰 蠂蟻蠅渭伪蟿喂魏蠈,蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃畏渭伪蟿喂魏蠈, 位蔚蟺蟿蠈 魏伪喂 蔚蠀伪委蟽胃畏蟿慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 伪蟺蔚喂魏蠈谓喂蟽畏蟼 慰喂魏蔚喂慰蟺慰喂蔚委蟿伪喂 蠈位伪 蟿伪 蟺慰位蠉蟺位慰魏伪 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓伪 未蟻蠋渭蔚谓伪.
螚 蟽魏位畏蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪, 蟺慰蠀 胃蔚蠅蟻蔚委蟿伪喂 伪蟺位萎 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏 伪谓蟿委未蟻伪蟽畏 蟺伪蟻慰蠀蟽喂维味蔚蟿伪喂 伪蟺慰 蟿慰谓 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 谓伪 蔚蟺喂蟿蟻苇蟺蔚喂 蟽蟿慰谓 伪蠁畏纬畏蟿萎 苇谓伪 尾伪胃蠉 魏伪喂 伪蟽蠀谓蔚委未畏蟿慰 未喂伪位慰纬喂蟽渭蠈 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 魏伪蟿蠅蟿蔚蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪蟽蠂萎渭喂伪 蟿畏蟼 渭伪谓委伪蟼.
危蔚 魏维胃蔚 蟺蟻蠈蟿伪蟽畏 蟿慰蠀 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 蠀位喂魏蠈 纬喂伪 谓伪 纬蟻伪蠁蟿蔚委 慰位蠈魏位畏蟻慰 尾喂尾位委慰, 尾维胃畏 蟽蠀位位慰纬喂蟽渭蠋谓 魏伪喂 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻伪蟽渭维蟿蠅谓 渭蔚 蟺蟻慰蟽蠅蟺喂魏萎 蟿伪蠉蟿喂蟽畏 纬喂伪 魏维胃蔚 慰谓蔚喂蟻蔚蠀蟿萎 蟺慰蠀 蟿伪尉喂未蔚蠉蔚喂 渭伪味委 蟿慰蠀 蟽蟿慰谓 蠂蠋蟻慰 魏伪喂 蟿慰谓 蠂蟻蠈谓慰.
螣喂 渭蔚蟿伪蠁慰蟻苇蟼 蟽蠂蔚蟿喂魏维 渭蔚 蟿畏 蠁蠉蟽畏 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蟿苇蠂谓畏 蔚喂蟽蠂蠅蟻慰蠉谓 蟿蠈蟽慰 蔚渭渭慰谓喂魏维 蟽蟿慰 渭蠀伪位蠈 蟿慰蠀 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蠋蟽蟺慰蠀 伪蟻蠂委味蔚喂 谓伪 尾位苇蟺蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 蟺蔚蟻喂纬蟻伪蠁苇蟼, 蟿慰蠀蟼 未喂伪位蠈纬慰蠀蟼, 蟿喂蟼 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻苇蟼, 蟺蔚蟻谓蠋谓蟿伪蟼 伪渭苇蟿蟻畏蟿蔚蟼 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿伪 蟽伪位蠈谓喂伪 蟿畏蟼 蠀蠄畏位萎蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 魏伪喂 伪谓维渭蔚蟽伪 蟽蔚 蟺伪蟻维尉蔚谓伪 蟺伪喂蠂谓委未喂伪 蟽蠂苇蟽蔚蠅谓, 蟽蠀渭蟺蔚蟻喂蠁慰蟻维蟼, 蟽蠀纬纬蔚谓喂魏蠋谓 蟺伪蟻伪纬蠈谓蟿蠅谓 纬蔚谓蔚伪位慰纬喂魏萎蟼 伪尉委伪蟼, 蟽蔚尉慰蠀伪位喂魏蠋谓 蟿维蟽蔚蠅谓 (蟺慰蠀 胃伪 未喂蔚蟻蔚蠀谓畏胃慰蠉谓 伪蟻纬蠈蟿蔚蟻伪) 魏伪喂 未慰尉伪蟽渭苇谓蠅谓 蔚蟺喂纬伪渭喂蠋谓.
螠苇蟽蠅 蟿畏蟼 伪谓伪蠁慰蟻维蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 蠀蟺蠈胃蔚蟽畏 螡蟿蟻苇喂蠁慰蠀蟼 蟺慰蠀 蟽蠀谓蟿伪蟻维蟽蟽蔚喂 蟿畏谓 螕伪位位委伪 蟺伪蟻慰蠀蟽喂维味蔚蟿伪喂 慰 蟽谓慰渭蟺喂蟽渭蠈蟼 渭喂伪蟼 蠁慰尾喂蟽渭苇谓畏蟼 魏慰喂谓蠅谓委伪蟼 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪喂蟻蔚委蟿伪喂 魏伪喂 伪谓蟿喂未蟻维 蟽蟺伪蟽渭蠅未喂魏维. 螚 蠀蟺蠈胃蔚蟽畏 伪蠀蟿萎 蟺慰蠀 伪蟺伪蟽蠂慰位蔚委 喂未喂伪喂蟿苇蟻蠅蟼 蟿慰谓 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 蟿慰 渭苇蟽慰 蟺慰蠀 伪蟺蔚喂魏慰谓委味蔚喂 蟿伪 蟽蠀谓蔚蠂蠋蟼 渭蔚蟿伪尾伪位位蠈渭蔚谓伪 魏蟻喂蟿萎蟻喂伪, 渭苇蟽蠅 蟿蠅谓 慰蟺慰委蠅谓 慰喂 蟺慰位喂蟿喂魏慰委, 蟽蟿蟻伪蟿喂蠅蟿喂魏慰委, 未喂魏伪蟽蟿喂魏慰委 魏伪喂 伪蟻喂蟽蟿慰魏蟻伪蟿喂魏慰委 蟽谓慰渭蟺 魏蠉魏位慰喂, 胃蔚蠅蟻慰蠉蟽伪谓 魏维蟺慰喂慰谓 蠅蟼 渭苇蟻慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 慰渭维未伪蟼 蔚蟺喂胃蠀渭畏蟿蠋谓 蟽蠂苇蟽蔚蠅谓.
螣 螤蟻慰蠉蟽蟿 蟽蠀谓蔚蠂委味蔚喂 谓伪 蔚蟻纬维味蔚蟿伪喂 纬喂伪 谓伪 蟺蔚蟻喂纬蟻维蠄蔚喂 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪纬蠅谓喂味蠈渭蔚谓慰蠀蟼 蟽蠀谓蟿慰谓喂蟽蟿苇蟼 蟿慰蠀 蠁伪委谓蔚蟽胃伪喂 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蟺伪蟻维位慰纬蠅谓 蔚蟺喂魏蟻委蟽蔚蠅谓 蟽蔚 魏维胃蔚 魏伪蟿畏纬慰蟻喂慰蟺慰委畏蟽畏. 螒蟽蠂慰位蔚委蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 蟽蟿蟻伪蟿喂蠅蟿喂魏萎 蟽蟿蟻伪蟿畏纬喂魏萎, 蟿慰谓 蟽慰蟽喂伪位喂蟽渭蠈, 蟿慰谓 伪谓蟿喂蟽畏渭喂蟿喂蟽渭蠈 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蟿伪尉喂魏萎 蔚蠂胃蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪.
螘喂蟽蟺谓慰萎 ... 蔚魏蟺谓慰萎
危蠀谓蔚蠂委味蔚蟿伪喂 ..!
馃枻馃枻馃枻
螝伪位萎 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏!!
螤慰位位慰蠉蟼 伪蟽蟺伪蟽渭慰蠉蟼.
February 15, 2025
The Guermantes Way is the third volume of In Search of Lost Time. The volume sets the stage for the story-proper to unfold, after the two preceding preparatory volumes. It is sort of a coming of the age story where the narrator tells the story of his transformation from his childhood to the first bloom of his youth. Being of an impressionable age, his thoughts, feelings, and first impressions of love, sound quite naive. But as the story progresses, with the new acquaintances he makes (older than his age) his look of life gradually changes. These changes affect his character, and his thoughts become mature. At the same time, however, he becomes a changed man from his Combray and Balbec days to a clear-headed, ambitious, social climber. I don't say this in a bad way. In fact, our narrator doesn't do any unscrupulous or immoral thing on his part to get to know the high society, although that is what he desires. Still, however, with the help of the friendships he makes at Balbec, he manages to get introduced to highly respected exclusive salons in Parisian society.
The narrator takes us into the heart of Paris's aristocratic society full of Dukes, Duchesses, Princes, Princesses, Comtes, Comtesses, Vicomtes, Barons, etc, giving us a first-hand account of the prejudices of the lot. It was truly amusing to read the narration of their pride of ancient lineage, the social etiquette, for example, who takes precedence over whom according to their title and royal blood, how some keep their salons exclusive to the highly privileged, and how the others try desperately to procure an invitation to enter them. The lot kept me entertained by their strict adherence to the long-held aristocratic conventions and hypocrisy.
However, I was very much put off by some of the prominent characters of the story, especially the Duc and Duchesse de Guermantes of whom the story mainly revolves around. I found the duo, the lady especially, snobbish. Although they make it quite a show to pretend that they don't care one jot about their titles, it is in fact the very thing they do. And I found her "wit", so much admired in the Parisian salons, vulgar. It was shocking to read the sort of "wit" that was admired in Paris Society at Proust's time.
Another disturbing factor was the antisemitism of French society of the day. There is much talk about the Alfred Dreyfus case in this volume which divided society. Some were convinced of his guilt simply because he was a Jew; as if there is no doubt that, if he is a jew, he is capable of committing treason. Only a few believed in his innocence and advocated for a fair trial. We know that J'accuse, the famous open letter that was written to the President of the Third French Republic by Emile Zola cost him his liberty. Such strong open hostility displayed for the Jewish people was dreadful. The holocaust seems unsurprising given the platform was slowly building.
My main attraction to this series is Proust's dreamy writing. Those who have read my review of the preceding two volumes will bear witness. In The Guermantes Way, however, I didn't feel that same beauty in his writing. It felt less poetic and more contrived. Perhaps, it was because my expectations were set too high. This is not to say that his writing was completely devoid of poetry. There were some beautifully written parts. Yet, many were affected, disturbing the overall dreamy quality. But I won't judge him and very much looking forward to being invested in the next adventure.
More of my reviews can be found at
The narrator takes us into the heart of Paris's aristocratic society full of Dukes, Duchesses, Princes, Princesses, Comtes, Comtesses, Vicomtes, Barons, etc, giving us a first-hand account of the prejudices of the lot. It was truly amusing to read the narration of their pride of ancient lineage, the social etiquette, for example, who takes precedence over whom according to their title and royal blood, how some keep their salons exclusive to the highly privileged, and how the others try desperately to procure an invitation to enter them. The lot kept me entertained by their strict adherence to the long-held aristocratic conventions and hypocrisy.
However, I was very much put off by some of the prominent characters of the story, especially the Duc and Duchesse de Guermantes of whom the story mainly revolves around. I found the duo, the lady especially, snobbish. Although they make it quite a show to pretend that they don't care one jot about their titles, it is in fact the very thing they do. And I found her "wit", so much admired in the Parisian salons, vulgar. It was shocking to read the sort of "wit" that was admired in Paris Society at Proust's time.
Another disturbing factor was the antisemitism of French society of the day. There is much talk about the Alfred Dreyfus case in this volume which divided society. Some were convinced of his guilt simply because he was a Jew; as if there is no doubt that, if he is a jew, he is capable of committing treason. Only a few believed in his innocence and advocated for a fair trial. We know that J'accuse, the famous open letter that was written to the President of the Third French Republic by Emile Zola cost him his liberty. Such strong open hostility displayed for the Jewish people was dreadful. The holocaust seems unsurprising given the platform was slowly building.
My main attraction to this series is Proust's dreamy writing. Those who have read my review of the preceding two volumes will bear witness. In The Guermantes Way, however, I didn't feel that same beauty in his writing. It felt less poetic and more contrived. Perhaps, it was because my expectations were set too high. This is not to say that his writing was completely devoid of poetry. There were some beautifully written parts. Yet, many were affected, disturbing the overall dreamy quality. But I won't judge him and very much looking forward to being invested in the next adventure.
More of my reviews can be found at
April 9, 2018
芦... 蟿蟻蔚喂蟼 纬蠀谓伪委魏蔚蟼 蟺慰蠀 蔚委蠂伪 伪纬伪蟺萎蟽蔚喂 -, 蟽魏苇蠁蟿畏魏伪 蟺蠅蟼 畏 魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂魏萎 渭伪蟼 味蠅萎 蔚委谓伪喂, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 蟿慰 蔚蟻纬伪蟽蟿萎蟻喂 蟿慰蠀 魏伪位位喂蟿苇蠂谓畏, 纬蔚渭维蟿畏 蟺蟻慰蟽蠂苇未喂伪 蟺蔚蟿伪渭苇谓伪 蟽蟿伪 慰蟺慰委伪 谓慰渭委蟽伪渭蔚 蟺蠅蟼 胃伪 渭蟺慰蟻慰蠉蟽伪渭蔚 谓伪 未蠋蟽慰蠀渭蔚 慰蟻喂蟽蟿喂魏萎 渭慰蟻蠁萎 蟽蟿畏谓 伪谓维纬魏畏 渭伪蟼 纬喂伪 苇谓伪谓 渭蔚纬维位慰 苇蟻蠅蟿伪, 伪位位维 未蔚谓 位慰纬维蟻喂伪蟽伪 蟺蠅蟼 渭蔚蟻喂魏苇蟼 蠁慰蟻苇蟼, 伪谓 蟿慰 蟺蟻慰蟽蠂苇未喂慰 未蔚谓 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺慰位蠉 蟺伪位喂蠈, 渭蟺慰蟻蔚委 谓伪 蟿蠉蠂蔚喂 谓伪 蟿慰 尉伪谓伪蟺喂维蟽慰蠀渭蔚 魏伪喂 谓伪 蟿慰 渭蔚蟿伪蟿蟻苇蠄慰蠀渭蔚 蟽鈥� 苇谓伪 苇蟻纬慰 慰位蠈蟿蔚位伪 未喂伪蠁慰蟻蔚蟿喂魏蠈, 委蟽蠅蟼 渭维位喂蟽蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺喂慰 蟽畏渭伪谓蟿喂魏蠈 伪蟺蠈 蔚魏蔚委谓慰 蟺慰蠀 蔚委蠂伪渭蔚 蟺蟻慰尾位苇蠄蔚喂 伪蟻蠂喂魏维禄.
螘尉委蟽慰蠀 蔚谓蟿蠀蟺蠅蟽喂伪魏蠈蟼 慰 螤蟻慰蠀蟽蟿, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蟿伪 未蠉慰 蟺蟻蠋蟿伪 尾喂尾位委伪. 螒纬伪蟺畏渭苇谓慰蟼.
螘尉委蟽慰蠀 蔚谓蟿蠀蟺蠅蟽喂伪魏蠈蟼 慰 螤蟻慰蠀蟽蟿, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蟿伪 未蠉慰 蟺蟻蠋蟿伪 尾喂尾位委伪. 螒纬伪蟺畏渭苇谓慰蟼.
September 11, 2022
YouTube kanal谋mda Marcel Proust'un hayat谋, b眉t眉n kitaplar谋 ve kronolojik okuma s谋ras谋 hakk谋nda bilgi edinebilirsiniz:
Dreyfus yanl谋s谋, Dreyfus kar艧谋t谋, Yahudi yanl谋s谋, Yahudi kar艧谋t谋, 15 Temmuz yanl谋s谋, 15 Temmuz kar艧谋t谋, bilgi yanl谋s谋, bilgi kar艧谋t谋... Peki, insan bunun neresinde?
Park ve Burgess gibi sosyologlara g枚re birey, belirli bir stat眉s眉 olmayan ki艧idir. Onlara g枚re biz, d眉nyaya birey olarak geliriz, toplum i莽inde belirli mevki ve stat眉ler kazand谋k莽a ki艧i olmaya ba艧lar谋z. Ayn谋 Sartre'谋苍 "Varolu艧 枚zden 枚nce gelir." demesi gibi varolu艧umuzun yazg谋s谋nda da birey olmak vard谋r, ki艧ilik 枚z眉m眉z ise birey hamurunun belirli mevki ve stat眉ler e艧li臒inde ustaca yo臒rulmas谋ndan meydana gelir. Birey, d枚neminin olaylar谋na ne kadar tan谋kl谋k edip sessiz kalm谋yorsa o kadar da kimlik mertebesine ula艧ma hakk谋 kazanabilir.
舰颈尘诲颈, bir birey d眉艧眉n眉n. Bu da Proust'un Kay谋p Zaman谋n 陌zinde serisinin anlat谋c谋s谋 yani ba艧rol karakteri olsun. Biliriz ki, roman karakterlerinin ya艧amlar谋 boyunca olacaklar谋 varl谋k, girecekleri sosyete, a艧谋k olmak isteyecekleri kad谋nlar 莽izilmi艧tir. Bunlar谋n 枚z眉 ise Proust'un d眉艧眉nce topra臒谋n谋n i莽ine d眉艧en hayal k谋r谋kl谋klar谋, ula艧谋lamamazl谋臒谋n verdi臒i kesintisiz arzu, duygulan谋mlar谋n seri ilerledik莽e sanat g枚stergelerine ula艧ma ihtiya莽lar谋 ve karakterin ac谋lar谋, rahats谋zl谋klar谋, sorgulamalar谋 sonucundaki kimlik kozala臒谋d谋r. 驰补锄补谤谋苍 izlenim g枚臒眉n眉n alt谋ndaki d眉艧眉nce topra臒谋, a臒a莽 olan bireyin varolu艧unu ve yazg谋s谋n谋 tamamen eline alm谋艧t谋r. 脰z, varolu艧tan 枚nce ya da en az谋ndan ayn谋 s谋rada gelmektedir, demi艧ti Sartre da. Proust'a g枚re 枚z, zaman谋 yakalamakt谋r. Proust'un karakterlerinin zaman谋 yakalamak i莽in hayal k谋r谋kl谋klar谋, ac谋lar谋 ve rahats谋zl谋klar谋 e艧li臒inde 枚zlerinin olu艧turulma s眉re莽lerinde bulunmalar谋 gibi. Bu y眉zden de Yahudili臒i, 谋rk谋, kendisinin belirleyemeyece臒i t眉rden kal谋t谋msal 枚zellikleri, 谋zd谋rari kaderi ona bir yol 莽izmez. Yaln谋zca se莽eneklerini daraltabilir.
Se莽eneklerinin daralt谋lm谋艧 olmas谋n谋n en iyi 枚rne臒i Guermantes Taraf谋 kitab谋n谋n sosyete muhabbetlerindeki insanlar谋n Yahudi ya da Dreyfus yanl谋s谋-kar艧谋t谋 olup olmamalar谋na g枚re ayr谋m yap谋lmalar谋d谋r. Fakat insan ise 枚nce varolur, daha sonra yapt谋klar谋 ve yapamad谋klar谋yla 枚z眉n眉 olu艧turur, denmi艧tir. Proust'un anlat谋c谋s谋n谋n varolu艧 sil眉etinin ba艧lang谋c谋n谋 ise Swann'lar谋n Taraf谋 ve 脟i莽ek A莽m谋艧 Gen莽 K谋zlar谋n G枚lgesinde kitaplar谋nda g枚rm眉艧t眉k. Karakterin bu noktaya gelene kadarki a艧谋k oldu臒u kad谋nlar, pe艧ine tak谋ld谋臒谋 insanlar, girmeye 莽al谋艧t谋臒谋 sosyetik gruplar, yakalamaya 莽abalad谋臒谋 anl谋k hayat reaksiyonlar谋n谋n hepsi yapt谋klar谋 ile yapamad谋klar谋n谋n Proust ele臒i i莽erisinde 枚z眉n眉n 莽谋kar谋lmaya 莽al谋艧谋lmas谋d谋r.
Sosyeteye girmi艧 insanlar谋n t眉m眉n眉n 枚nceden g枚steri艧li ve bilgi gerektiren mesleklere sahip olup sonradan yozla艧malar谋 ile karakterin Swann'lar谋n Taraf谋'ndaki duygulan谋mlar谋n谋n salt aile 莽ekirde臒inden 莽谋k谋p 莽evreyi tan谋ma, ba艧ka gruplarda kendini bulma ve Marcel 陌htiya莽lar Hiyerar艧isi'ndeki "Ait olma ve sevgi ihtiyac谋" ile katmanl谋 bir zaman bilinci edinmesi 枚l眉m眉ne sava艧谋r. Siperler al谋nm谋艧t谋r. T眉fekler g枚stergelerdir. Komutanlar ise insan谋n insanl谋臒谋na ula艧mas谋 i莽in 莽ekti臒i ac谋lard谋r. Fizyolojik ihtiya莽lar cephesi Swann'lar谋n Taraf谋 ise g眉venlik ihtiyac谋 cephesi 脟i莽ek A莽m谋艧 Gen莽 K谋zlar谋n G枚lgesinde'dir. Fakat bu ihtiya莽 sava艧谋n谋n s谋ralamas谋 serinin her kitab谋nda de臒i艧ir. Hatta Kay谋p Zaman谋n 陌zinde serisi okunurken duygulan谋m olarak bir 枚ncekini ge莽en her bir kitab谋n Waterloo Sava艧谋'nda Frans谋zlar谋 ve Napolyon'un ordusunu hende臒e d眉艧眉ren Wellington oldu臒unu s枚yleyebiliriz. Yani, Sodom ve Gomorra kitab谋 da Guermantes Taraf谋'n谋 o 枚l眉m hende臒ine d眉艧眉rmek i莽in sava艧acakt谋r. Anlat谋c谋 da bu siyasi olaylarda ne kadar bo艧a ge莽irilmeyen zaman, sanat g枚stergesi ve maneviyat bulabilirse o kadar hayata dokunabilecektir.
Unutulmamal谋d谋r ki, Victor Hugo'nun dedi臒i gibi: "Zaferler azald谋k莽a 枚zg眉rl眉kler artar." Anlat谋c谋-ba艧rol karakteri de bunu bilir, 莽眉nk眉 Proust'un zaman piramidinin ta艧lar谋 da birbirlerine kar艧谋 s眉rekli sanatsal bir zafer kazanmaya 莽al谋艧an "bo艧a harcad谋臒谋m谋z zaman, kay谋p zaman, ele ge莽irilen zaman ve yakalanan zaman" gibi ta艧lardan olu艧ur. Guermantes Taraf谋'nda bir insan谋n di臒er bir insana el sallay谋艧谋n谋n verdi臒i umut, y眉ksek konuma sahip olan bir kad谋n谋 arzulamak, karakterin b眉y眉kannesinin rahats谋zl谋臒谋, sosyete muhabbetlerindeki d枚nem ve Dreyfus olay谋 yans谋malar谋 ile sosyete g枚stergelerinin vasat, alayl谋 ve i莽i kof bir 艧ekilde ger莽eklenmeleri tam da karakterin bo艧a harcad谋臒谋m谋z zaman ile kay谋p zaman谋n ortalar谋nda bir yerde devinmek oldu臒unu kan谋tlar niteliktedir. Karakter ise b眉t眉n bu sosyetik vasatl谋k ke艧meke艧inin ortas谋nda akl谋ndaki haf谋za bah莽esinin i莽inde bulunan Elstir tablolar谋n谋n ona hat谋rlatt谋臒谋 manevi sanat g枚stergeleriyle, Berma'n谋n jestinin heykeli hat谋rlatmas谋yla ya da bir m眉zi臒in onu zaman谋nda nas谋l etkiledi臒iyle avunmaya 莽al谋艧谋r.
"Berma'n谋n bir jesti bir heykelin duru艧unu 莽a臒r谋艧t谋rd谋臒谋 i莽in g眉zeldir. Ayn谋 艧ekilde Vinteuil'眉n m眉zi臒i, Boulogne Orman谋'nda bir gezintiyi 莽a臒r谋艧t谋rd谋臒谋 i莽in g眉zeldir." (s. 44) Proust ve G枚stergeler
Ba艧taki soruya d枚nmem gerekirse, insan, hayatta izleyicidir. Hayat g枚r眉nt眉lerinin ve duygulan谋m arzular谋n谋n Monet, Renoir ve C茅zanne gibi ressamlar谋n aktar谋m谋yla birlikte izlenimcilik ad谋na kavu艧tu臒u bir kimlik d眉nyas谋 devrialeminde insan, etraf谋ndaki siyasi olaylar谋, s谋n谋flar谋, di臒er insanlar谋n ya艧ay谋艧lar谋n谋, jestlerini deneyimledi臒i ve bunlara tepki ad谋n谋 koyabilece臒i izlenimleriyle aktarmaya yazg谋l谋d谋r.
Nas谋l ki Emile Zola, zaman谋n cumhurba艧kan谋na "厂耻莽濒耻测辞谤耻尘" adl谋 yazd谋臒谋 mektupta zaman谋n Dreyfus olay谋 aleyhtarlar谋n谋n Yahudi d眉艧manl谋臒谋n谋 ve 谋rk莽谋l谋臒谋n谋 kan谋tlam谋艧sa, bu siyasi olay谋n izlenimleri o zaman谋n sosyetik gruplar谋nda da kendisine yer bulmu艧tur. Proust'un anlat谋c谋s谋, sosyetik gruplar谋n ressaml谋臒谋n谋 yapt谋臒谋, renklerin vasatl谋k, bo艧luk ve zekadan yoksunluk oldu臒u tabloda, bo艧 bir tuval olma g枚revini ta艧谋r. Fakat tam da bundan dolay谋 renkler i莽in cezbedicidir. Sosyete onu aras谋nda g枚rmek i莽in daha 莽ok arzular. 脟眉nk眉 bir tuval de, 眉st眉ne hangi renklerin boyanaca臒谋n谋, hangi ressamlar谋n onu deneyimleyece臒ini bilmeden hayata at谋l谋r. Izd谋rari kaderinde tuval olmak vard谋r, bunu se莽emez ama tuval olarak d眉nyaya gelmi艧 olmas谋 se莽eneklerini daraltabilir. Yine de 眉st眉ne ne kadar vasatl谋k, hayal k谋r谋kl谋klar谋, eziklik, a艧a臒谋lanm谋艧l谋k, ula艧谋lmak istenen arzular谋n bir bir ula艧谋lmazl谋klarla sonu莽lanmas谋, sosyetik gruplar谋n zekadan yoksunlu臒u gibi renkler at谋l谋rsa o kadar da kendi akl谋n谋n sanat galerisinde manevi sanat g枚stergelerinin zamanla fiyatland谋臒谋 bir g枚steride kendine yer bulur. Sanat galerisinin sahibi ise Marcel Proust'tur.
Vakit nakittir, Kay谋p Zaman谋n 陌zinde serisi de Alain de Botton'un deyimiyle ne kadar kendi g枚zlerimizle Proust'un d眉nyas谋na de臒il, Proust'un g枚zleriyle kendi d眉nyam谋za bakmam谋z谋 gerektiren bir bak谋艧 a莽谋s谋yla okunursa o kadar bilgi olarak nakit elde edece臒imiz bir s眉re莽 olacakt谋r.
Dreyfus yanl谋s谋, Dreyfus kar艧谋t谋, Yahudi yanl谋s谋, Yahudi kar艧谋t谋, 15 Temmuz yanl谋s谋, 15 Temmuz kar艧谋t谋, bilgi yanl谋s谋, bilgi kar艧谋t谋... Peki, insan bunun neresinde?
Park ve Burgess gibi sosyologlara g枚re birey, belirli bir stat眉s眉 olmayan ki艧idir. Onlara g枚re biz, d眉nyaya birey olarak geliriz, toplum i莽inde belirli mevki ve stat眉ler kazand谋k莽a ki艧i olmaya ba艧lar谋z. Ayn谋 Sartre'谋苍 "Varolu艧 枚zden 枚nce gelir." demesi gibi varolu艧umuzun yazg谋s谋nda da birey olmak vard谋r, ki艧ilik 枚z眉m眉z ise birey hamurunun belirli mevki ve stat眉ler e艧li臒inde ustaca yo臒rulmas谋ndan meydana gelir. Birey, d枚neminin olaylar谋na ne kadar tan谋kl谋k edip sessiz kalm谋yorsa o kadar da kimlik mertebesine ula艧ma hakk谋 kazanabilir.
舰颈尘诲颈, bir birey d眉艧眉n眉n. Bu da Proust'un Kay谋p Zaman谋n 陌zinde serisinin anlat谋c谋s谋 yani ba艧rol karakteri olsun. Biliriz ki, roman karakterlerinin ya艧amlar谋 boyunca olacaklar谋 varl谋k, girecekleri sosyete, a艧谋k olmak isteyecekleri kad谋nlar 莽izilmi艧tir. Bunlar谋n 枚z眉 ise Proust'un d眉艧眉nce topra臒谋n谋n i莽ine d眉艧en hayal k谋r谋kl谋klar谋, ula艧谋lamamazl谋臒谋n verdi臒i kesintisiz arzu, duygulan谋mlar谋n seri ilerledik莽e sanat g枚stergelerine ula艧ma ihtiya莽lar谋 ve karakterin ac谋lar谋, rahats谋zl谋klar谋, sorgulamalar谋 sonucundaki kimlik kozala臒谋d谋r. 驰补锄补谤谋苍 izlenim g枚臒眉n眉n alt谋ndaki d眉艧眉nce topra臒谋, a臒a莽 olan bireyin varolu艧unu ve yazg谋s谋n谋 tamamen eline alm谋艧t谋r. 脰z, varolu艧tan 枚nce ya da en az谋ndan ayn谋 s谋rada gelmektedir, demi艧ti Sartre da. Proust'a g枚re 枚z, zaman谋 yakalamakt谋r. Proust'un karakterlerinin zaman谋 yakalamak i莽in hayal k谋r谋kl谋klar谋, ac谋lar谋 ve rahats谋zl谋klar谋 e艧li臒inde 枚zlerinin olu艧turulma s眉re莽lerinde bulunmalar谋 gibi. Bu y眉zden de Yahudili臒i, 谋rk谋, kendisinin belirleyemeyece臒i t眉rden kal谋t谋msal 枚zellikleri, 谋zd谋rari kaderi ona bir yol 莽izmez. Yaln谋zca se莽eneklerini daraltabilir.
Se莽eneklerinin daralt谋lm谋艧 olmas谋n谋n en iyi 枚rne臒i Guermantes Taraf谋 kitab谋n谋n sosyete muhabbetlerindeki insanlar谋n Yahudi ya da Dreyfus yanl谋s谋-kar艧谋t谋 olup olmamalar谋na g枚re ayr谋m yap谋lmalar谋d谋r. Fakat insan ise 枚nce varolur, daha sonra yapt谋klar谋 ve yapamad谋klar谋yla 枚z眉n眉 olu艧turur, denmi艧tir. Proust'un anlat谋c谋s谋n谋n varolu艧 sil眉etinin ba艧lang谋c谋n谋 ise Swann'lar谋n Taraf谋 ve 脟i莽ek A莽m谋艧 Gen莽 K谋zlar谋n G枚lgesinde kitaplar谋nda g枚rm眉艧t眉k. Karakterin bu noktaya gelene kadarki a艧谋k oldu臒u kad谋nlar, pe艧ine tak谋ld谋臒谋 insanlar, girmeye 莽al谋艧t谋臒谋 sosyetik gruplar, yakalamaya 莽abalad谋臒谋 anl谋k hayat reaksiyonlar谋n谋n hepsi yapt谋klar谋 ile yapamad谋klar谋n谋n Proust ele臒i i莽erisinde 枚z眉n眉n 莽谋kar谋lmaya 莽al谋艧谋lmas谋d谋r.
Sosyeteye girmi艧 insanlar谋n t眉m眉n眉n 枚nceden g枚steri艧li ve bilgi gerektiren mesleklere sahip olup sonradan yozla艧malar谋 ile karakterin Swann'lar谋n Taraf谋'ndaki duygulan谋mlar谋n谋n salt aile 莽ekirde臒inden 莽谋k谋p 莽evreyi tan谋ma, ba艧ka gruplarda kendini bulma ve Marcel 陌htiya莽lar Hiyerar艧isi'ndeki "Ait olma ve sevgi ihtiyac谋" ile katmanl谋 bir zaman bilinci edinmesi 枚l眉m眉ne sava艧谋r. Siperler al谋nm谋艧t谋r. T眉fekler g枚stergelerdir. Komutanlar ise insan谋n insanl谋臒谋na ula艧mas谋 i莽in 莽ekti臒i ac谋lard谋r. Fizyolojik ihtiya莽lar cephesi Swann'lar谋n Taraf谋 ise g眉venlik ihtiyac谋 cephesi 脟i莽ek A莽m谋艧 Gen莽 K谋zlar谋n G枚lgesinde'dir. Fakat bu ihtiya莽 sava艧谋n谋n s谋ralamas谋 serinin her kitab谋nda de臒i艧ir. Hatta Kay谋p Zaman谋n 陌zinde serisi okunurken duygulan谋m olarak bir 枚ncekini ge莽en her bir kitab谋n Waterloo Sava艧谋'nda Frans谋zlar谋 ve Napolyon'un ordusunu hende臒e d眉艧眉ren Wellington oldu臒unu s枚yleyebiliriz. Yani, Sodom ve Gomorra kitab谋 da Guermantes Taraf谋'n谋 o 枚l眉m hende臒ine d眉艧眉rmek i莽in sava艧acakt谋r. Anlat谋c谋 da bu siyasi olaylarda ne kadar bo艧a ge莽irilmeyen zaman, sanat g枚stergesi ve maneviyat bulabilirse o kadar hayata dokunabilecektir.
Unutulmamal谋d谋r ki, Victor Hugo'nun dedi臒i gibi: "Zaferler azald谋k莽a 枚zg眉rl眉kler artar." Anlat谋c谋-ba艧rol karakteri de bunu bilir, 莽眉nk眉 Proust'un zaman piramidinin ta艧lar谋 da birbirlerine kar艧谋 s眉rekli sanatsal bir zafer kazanmaya 莽al谋艧an "bo艧a harcad谋臒谋m谋z zaman, kay谋p zaman, ele ge莽irilen zaman ve yakalanan zaman" gibi ta艧lardan olu艧ur. Guermantes Taraf谋'nda bir insan谋n di臒er bir insana el sallay谋艧谋n谋n verdi臒i umut, y眉ksek konuma sahip olan bir kad谋n谋 arzulamak, karakterin b眉y眉kannesinin rahats谋zl谋臒谋, sosyete muhabbetlerindeki d枚nem ve Dreyfus olay谋 yans谋malar谋 ile sosyete g枚stergelerinin vasat, alayl谋 ve i莽i kof bir 艧ekilde ger莽eklenmeleri tam da karakterin bo艧a harcad谋臒谋m谋z zaman ile kay谋p zaman谋n ortalar谋nda bir yerde devinmek oldu臒unu kan谋tlar niteliktedir. Karakter ise b眉t眉n bu sosyetik vasatl谋k ke艧meke艧inin ortas谋nda akl谋ndaki haf谋za bah莽esinin i莽inde bulunan Elstir tablolar谋n谋n ona hat谋rlatt谋臒谋 manevi sanat g枚stergeleriyle, Berma'n谋n jestinin heykeli hat谋rlatmas谋yla ya da bir m眉zi臒in onu zaman谋nda nas谋l etkiledi臒iyle avunmaya 莽al谋艧谋r.
"Berma'n谋n bir jesti bir heykelin duru艧unu 莽a臒r谋艧t谋rd谋臒谋 i莽in g眉zeldir. Ayn谋 艧ekilde Vinteuil'眉n m眉zi臒i, Boulogne Orman谋'nda bir gezintiyi 莽a臒r谋艧t谋rd谋臒谋 i莽in g眉zeldir." (s. 44) Proust ve G枚stergeler
Ba艧taki soruya d枚nmem gerekirse, insan, hayatta izleyicidir. Hayat g枚r眉nt眉lerinin ve duygulan谋m arzular谋n谋n Monet, Renoir ve C茅zanne gibi ressamlar谋n aktar谋m谋yla birlikte izlenimcilik ad谋na kavu艧tu臒u bir kimlik d眉nyas谋 devrialeminde insan, etraf谋ndaki siyasi olaylar谋, s谋n谋flar谋, di臒er insanlar谋n ya艧ay谋艧lar谋n谋, jestlerini deneyimledi臒i ve bunlara tepki ad谋n谋 koyabilece臒i izlenimleriyle aktarmaya yazg谋l谋d谋r.
Nas谋l ki Emile Zola, zaman谋n cumhurba艧kan谋na "厂耻莽濒耻测辞谤耻尘" adl谋 yazd谋臒谋 mektupta zaman谋n Dreyfus olay谋 aleyhtarlar谋n谋n Yahudi d眉艧manl谋臒谋n谋 ve 谋rk莽谋l谋臒谋n谋 kan谋tlam谋艧sa, bu siyasi olay谋n izlenimleri o zaman谋n sosyetik gruplar谋nda da kendisine yer bulmu艧tur. Proust'un anlat谋c谋s谋, sosyetik gruplar谋n ressaml谋臒谋n谋 yapt谋臒谋, renklerin vasatl谋k, bo艧luk ve zekadan yoksunluk oldu臒u tabloda, bo艧 bir tuval olma g枚revini ta艧谋r. Fakat tam da bundan dolay谋 renkler i莽in cezbedicidir. Sosyete onu aras谋nda g枚rmek i莽in daha 莽ok arzular. 脟眉nk眉 bir tuval de, 眉st眉ne hangi renklerin boyanaca臒谋n谋, hangi ressamlar谋n onu deneyimleyece臒ini bilmeden hayata at谋l谋r. Izd谋rari kaderinde tuval olmak vard谋r, bunu se莽emez ama tuval olarak d眉nyaya gelmi艧 olmas谋 se莽eneklerini daraltabilir. Yine de 眉st眉ne ne kadar vasatl谋k, hayal k谋r谋kl谋klar谋, eziklik, a艧a臒谋lanm谋艧l谋k, ula艧谋lmak istenen arzular谋n bir bir ula艧谋lmazl谋klarla sonu莽lanmas谋, sosyetik gruplar谋n zekadan yoksunlu臒u gibi renkler at谋l谋rsa o kadar da kendi akl谋n谋n sanat galerisinde manevi sanat g枚stergelerinin zamanla fiyatland谋臒谋 bir g枚steride kendine yer bulur. Sanat galerisinin sahibi ise Marcel Proust'tur.
Vakit nakittir, Kay谋p Zaman谋n 陌zinde serisi de Alain de Botton'un deyimiyle ne kadar kendi g枚zlerimizle Proust'un d眉nyas谋na de臒il, Proust'un g枚zleriyle kendi d眉nyam谋za bakmam谋z谋 gerektiren bir bak谋艧 a莽谋s谋yla okunursa o kadar bilgi olarak nakit elde edece臒imiz bir s眉re莽 olacakt谋r.
January 27, 2021
If the first two volumes of La Recherche talked about the youth and innocence of the narrator and his world, Le Cot茅 de Guermantes is his coming of age. He takes a bit of a back stage role as he observes (from his family's apartment which is modest but shares the same building as the luxurious Parisian h么tel particulier of the Guermantes) his best friend, Odette and Swann's swashbuckling son Robert de Saint-Loup go through several sulphurous affairs (particularly that with the ravishing Rachel) as well as the passing of the torch from the 19th C to the 20th C. Swann himself is aging and had cancer while Odette - the ultimate arrivist - is eternally young - and represents the dying world of the prim and proper 19th C of dandyism and politesse. The Duc de Guermantes and his wife however, represent the more brutal and appearance-obsessed 20th C. My favorite scene in the book is the "souliers rouge" incident where Mme. de Guermantes comes down a stairway while Swann confesses his illness to the Duc - the Duc interrupts him to yell at his wife: "What the fuck are you thinking? Red shoes with that dress? Are you fucking kidding me? Get back up stairs and choose a decent pair of shoes at this instant. Oh, sorry Swann, what were you saying?"
OK, I am paraphrasing but that is the gist of the scene :)
Don't let the imposing length of this volume scare you, it is extremely well-written and contains brilliant dialog, some steamy (for the time) scenes and is still in a more humorous if sarcastic tone. This will drastically change in Sodom and Gomorrah so enjoy the lightness while it lasts.
OK, I am paraphrasing but that is the gist of the scene :)
Don't let the imposing length of this volume scare you, it is extremely well-written and contains brilliant dialog, some steamy (for the time) scenes and is still in a more humorous if sarcastic tone. This will drastically change in Sodom and Gomorrah so enjoy the lightness while it lasts.
June 14, 2021
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丕夭 讴鬲丕亘 #賮丕賳賵爻_噩丕丿賵蹖蹖_夭賲丕賳
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丕夭 讴鬲丕亘 #賮丕賳賵爻_噩丕丿賵蹖蹖_夭賲丕賳
馃汇
丕賲乇賵夭 噩賱丿 爻賵賲 賴賲 鬲賲丕賲 卮丿貨 亘毓丿 丕夭 讴鬲丕亘 囟丿爻賳鬲 亘賵賵貙 讴鬲丕亘 賮丕賳賵爻 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 夭賲丕賳 丿乇 禺賵丕賳丿賳 丿乇 噩爻鬲 賵 噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 禺蹖賱蹖 讴賲讴鈥屭┵嗁嗀池�.
丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 爻乇賵讴丕乇 亘丕 鬲賵氐蹖賮 禺丕賳丿丕賳蹖 賲賵丕噩賴蹖賲 讴賴 毓賲丿鬲丕 爻丕禺鬲賴鈥屰� 匕賴賳 倬乇賵爻鬲 賵 鬲乇讴蹖亘蹖 禺蹖丕賱蹖 丕夭 趩賳丿蹖賳 禺丕賳丿丕賳 丕卮乇丕賮蹖爻鬲. 丿乇 丕蹖賳 噩賱丿 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵 亘乇丕蹖 丿乇讴 乇賵丕亘胤 賲蹖丕賳 賳蹖讴蹖鈥屬囏� 賵 倬賱卮鬲蹖鈥屬囏й� 蹖讴 丕賳爻丕賳 亘丕 賴賲賴鈥屰� 鬲賮丕賵鬲鈥屬囏� 賴爻鬲蹖賲. 丕夭 夭賳丕賳 賵 賯丿乇鬲 賵 鬲丕孬蹖乇 丌賳鈥屬囏� 丿乇 爻蹖丕爻鬲 賵 賲爻丕卅賱 乇賵夭 賵 丕乇鬲亘丕胤丕鬲 丌賳鈥屬囏� 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗃屬�. 倬乇賵爻鬲 賲丕 乇丕 賵丕乇丿 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴鈥屬囏й� 丕卮乇丕賮蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 亘丕 賵乇賵丿 亘賴 丨賵夭賴鈥屰� 乇賵卮賳賮讴乇丕賳貙 丿乇诏蹖乇 禺蹖丕賱鈥屬矩必ж槽� 賴丕蹖 乇丕賵蹖 賲蹖鈥屫促堐屬�. 賵丕跇賴鈥屰� 禺蹖丕賱 讴賴 诏賲丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫辟堌� 鬲丕 丌禺乇 讴鬲丕亘 賲丕 乇丕 乇賴丕 賳賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�. 鬲賵氐蹖賮 胤亘賯丕鬲 賲禺鬲賱賮 噩丕賲毓賴貙 鬲賵氐蹖賮 賲丨丕賮賱 賵 卮乇丨 賲賵卮讴丕賮丕賳賴鈥屰� 禺賱賯蹖丕鬲 賵 乇賮鬲丕乇 鬲賲丕賲 丕賮乇丕丿 丨鬲蹖 賲爻鬲禺丿賲丕賳 賵 賳賵讴乇丕賳 賵 賳卮爻鬲 賵 亘乇禺丕爻鬲 亘丕 丌丿賲鈥屬囏ж� 賲丕 乇丕 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕蹖 鬲賮丕賵鬲鈥屬囏� 賲蹖鈥屫ㄘ必� 賵 賵丕賯毓蹖鬲鈥屬囏й� 毓蹖賳蹖 讴賴 亘賴 氐賵乇鬲 賲賳丨氐乇 亘賴 賮乇丿 丿乇 賴乇 丌丿賲蹖 賵噩賵丿 丿丕乇丿 賵 丿乇 賳賴丕蹖鬲 賲丕蹖蹖賲 讴賴 丌乇夭賵蹖 卮賳丕禺鬲 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 乇丕 丿丕乇蹖賲 賵 丕睾賱亘 賳丕讴丕賲 賲蹖鈥屬呚з嗃屬�.
July 8, 2017
And even in my most carnal desires, oriented always in a particular direction, concentrated round a single dream, I might have recognized as their primary motive an idea, an idea for which I would have laid down my life, at the innermost core of which, as in my day-dreams while I sat reading all afternoon in the garden at Combray, lay the notion of perfection.Constants are a comfort. Predictable, reliable, indestructible, themes upon which to stake a claim, build a life, and conjure up a culture. Without them, there would be no tradition, no heritage, no common meaning that has been given centuries to bring together the many millions of humanity, and will continue to do so long into the future.
-Marcel Proust
I go forward slowly, dead, and my vision is no longer mine, it鈥檚 nothing: it鈥檚 only the vision of the human animal who, without wanting, inherited Greek culture, Roman order, Christian morality, and all the other illusions that constitute the civilization in which I feel.
Where can the living be?
-Fernando Pessoa
Transience is stimulating. Unique, original, unpredictable, the many spices that fill each day of life with novelty and excitement. Without them, civilization would die a slow death, unable to provide for the insatiable minds crowding its surface, compensate them for all the rules and regulations that confine them in every aspect of their lives.
In Swann's Way, we were introduced to the fragile chaos that is memory, all of its invisible triggers and surprising strengths when it came to prying forth events that molt and flex with each passing second, as fast as we ourselves can metamorphosize. In Within a Budding Grove, we found beauty, then lost it, then found it again, so long as we lied and were lied to, consciously or otherwise, in hopes of that one instant where what we loved was indeed what was. In Guermantes Way, we reach out of our protective cocoons, and unleash these truths of mind and matter to rampage over the wide plane of humanity.
What results is both admirable and terrible, a truth of life whose nakedness proves too ferocious for the majority of minds. We are satisfied with neither peace nor war, with neither the unchanging monotony that lies too close to the cold and silent realm of mortality, nor the rampant fury that upturns our sensibilities and forces us through evolutionary contortions at a sometimes deathly speed. We yearn for connections based on similarity, and shy away from anything that decries our individuality. We wish to be understood; we do not want to be spoken through.
So we form our societies, our little cliques, our passion plays that eternally jest with one hand and keep a tight hold on emergency conventions with the other. We set the trends, watch as the clusters form and the enthusiasm rises to a fever pitch, then switch gears as soon as the crowds begin to settle and the dissonant murmurs begin to rise. We ensure that, above all else, shallowness is the key to every sort of success; we make sure to never tread too deeply in the psyche, where the shadowy past looms large and conforms more thoroughly than one with inherent beliefs in ones self can bear. We adapt at every social turn and mental acrobatics trick so that the momentary thrill is always there and always momentary, and make the word hypocrisy nothing more than the incessant whine of those who failed.
One never has to worry about disagreeing states of mind so long as one is the ringmaster of the entertainment. One never has to concern oneself with, say, feelings, and justice, and empathy, when the supreme goal is maintenance of the social formula. One need not ever have to plant oneself in another's shoes, when one is so busy in leading a parade of thousands.
For how else are we supposed to be satisfied, we social animals with our countless hopes and dreams and mentalities, always clashing when together and so very lonely when apart? How else do we function within the constricting walls of ideologies that have had millenia in which to grow, find a little variation to make the promise of a new day something of a comfort rather than a living hell? Our minds, our bodies, our souls change with every passing moment, and yet we seek the refuge of similarity with a fellow human being whose transformations are just as quick and just as erratic. We grow upon ideas that have given us security since the first idea came into being, and then we find ourselves outgrowing them, flaying ourselves on insidious restrictions that are almost too ingrained to be even be considered in words, let alone questioned.
Our thoughts swim to gorgeous depths that cannot sustain life, and so we must wait on the surface and make do with the wreckage that manages to float up through the darkness. The bits and pieces last until they no longer suffice for a pleasant existence, what with so many others crowding and crewing and manipulating the flotsam and jetsam to their own advantage. We wonder if it would be more enjoyable to sink down and make ones own way through the sunken ships, with only ones thoughts for company. We would miss the others, though, what with their complete removal from our own frame of mind, so refreshingly different despite all their sometimes aggravating differences.
It's difficult, balancing the worth of self in solitude against that of living in conformation, judging how much of oneself is an identity and how much of it is a sociocultural construct. Truth, versus stability. It's not a wonder that most of the world is devoted to the latter. At least, there, you're not alone.
September 28, 2023
Making a quick trip to Paris recently, I was excited about the four-hour train journey each way which, I thought, would be prime reading time. Eight hours is enough to finish most books, so surely it would let me at least get through the majority of Le C么t茅 de Guermantes.
In the event, of course, I think I spent the whole of both journeys immersed in just one of the two dinner parties which make up the 鈥榓ction鈥�, to use a laughably inappropriate word, of this third volume of the Recherche. Here, the focus is on the gratin, or upper-crust, of French society 鈥� on le culte de la noblesse 鈥� and our narrator spends most of his time trying to deflect attention away from his own snobbery by criticising the snobbery of others.
One sympathises. It is impossible, when asked what I'm reading these days, to say, 鈥極h, I'm reading Proust in French,鈥� without sounding, if not like a snob, at least like a massive prick. I am thinking of hiding my copy in a pornographic magazine to reduce social awkwardness.
And yet Proust's precise, dense, ambling prose style is starting to have an effect on me. I have tried to resist it, have tried to find it laboured and irritating, but no matter how much it sometimes bores me, I find myself craving it when I put the book down. The sheer size of this story, the proliferating expansiveness of the writing, has a weird appeal in itself 鈥撎齣t's something to dive into and be completely swallowed up by. It has you surrounded.
Proust does not write neat, quotable lines. (Is there any famous line from the entire series 鈥� except perhaps the very first, which is about as far as most people get?) Instead his power comes from a kind of cumulative linguistic friction, where subordination and other grammatical tricks enable him to delay and delay and delay important parts of the sentence, with an almost fornicatory desire to withhold climax. Sometimes the effect of this can be very beautiful, as in our first view of Mme de Guermantes at the opera:
Here that incredible 鈥榮mile鈥� is (though not in my translation) kept back to the very last word of the whole long paragraph, so that the sentence bursts on you in much the same way that the duchess's smile did on our narrator. No wonder that Virginia Woolf thought there was something sexual in the whole experience of reading Proust. I agree, and I think it depends a great deal on the specificities of French grammar, so that if he can be translated well, it must be extremely loosely. His method is a very consciously linguistic one.
And that awareness of language is everywhere. He talks disparagingly of 鈥榗omposite and multicoloured鈥� modern speech patterns, but reproduces them lovingly in the dialogue of his characters (though never 鈥� heaven forfend! 鈥� in the narrative voice). He lingers over aristocratic slang, and the titled habit of giving everyone nicknames (Kikim, Quiou, Mignonne); he assiduously reproduces trendy anglicisms and German accents. He is moved to kiss Albertine when she uses the phrase 脿 mon sens, and moments later goes off her because she uses the word 尘辞耻蝉尘茅. More than once there seems to be something synaesthetic about it: pondering over Mme de Guermantes, he talks about 鈥榯he amaranthine colour of the final syllable of her name鈥�.
Echoes resound across the pages: the construction he uses above of Mme de Guermantes (l'averse 茅tincelante et c茅leste de son sourire) is mirrored, hundreds of pages later, by an opposing description of M de Charlus (la dispersion anonyme et vacante de son sourire.). The same thing happens across books. Descriptions in here where people are imagined as marine wildlife (the marquis de Palancy moves slowly like 鈥榓 passing fish鈥� and, thousands of words later, we hear of 鈥榓mphibious men and women鈥� swimming slowly through the 鈥榯hick liqueur鈥� of the gaslights) seem to call back to the section in Jeunes Filles where he sees the hotel restaurant in Balbec as a giant aquarium.
Connections like this are at the heart of Proust's method, and are linked to the way memory works. He talks about it a little in passing in this volume, in a section that might serve as a kind of mission statement for the whole project:
Little wonder that Proust even imagines the resurrection of the soul as 鈥榓 phenomenon of memory鈥�. This memory-based method can seem confusing, even overwhelming, at times 鈥� but this is by design. La limpidit茅 me parut de l鈥檌nsuffisance, he says at one point: clarity struck me as inadequacy. An extremely telling phrase.
None of which dreamy admiration is to say that I didn't often feel my heart sink when I turned the page and saw acres of single-paragraph text stretching away before me. But there's a companionship to it, too. As people queued past my seat to get off the train in Basel, an old monsieur tapped me on the arm: 鈥楢 fellow Proustian!鈥� he said with delight. 鈥榃here are you up to?鈥� The Guermantes Way, I told him. He looked dubiously at the amount of book still in my right hand as he shuffled past, and said politely, 鈥業 hope you aren't planning to get off the train any time soon?鈥�
In the event, of course, I think I spent the whole of both journeys immersed in just one of the two dinner parties which make up the 鈥榓ction鈥�, to use a laughably inappropriate word, of this third volume of the Recherche. Here, the focus is on the gratin, or upper-crust, of French society 鈥� on le culte de la noblesse 鈥� and our narrator spends most of his time trying to deflect attention away from his own snobbery by criticising the snobbery of others.
One sympathises. It is impossible, when asked what I'm reading these days, to say, 鈥極h, I'm reading Proust in French,鈥� without sounding, if not like a snob, at least like a massive prick. I am thinking of hiding my copy in a pornographic magazine to reduce social awkwardness.
And yet Proust's precise, dense, ambling prose style is starting to have an effect on me. I have tried to resist it, have tried to find it laboured and irritating, but no matter how much it sometimes bores me, I find myself craving it when I put the book down. The sheer size of this story, the proliferating expansiveness of the writing, has a weird appeal in itself 鈥撎齣t's something to dive into and be completely swallowed up by. It has you surrounded.
Proust does not write neat, quotable lines. (Is there any famous line from the entire series 鈥� except perhaps the very first, which is about as far as most people get?) Instead his power comes from a kind of cumulative linguistic friction, where subordination and other grammatical tricks enable him to delay and delay and delay important parts of the sentence, with an almost fornicatory desire to withhold climax. Sometimes the effect of this can be very beautiful, as in our first view of Mme de Guermantes at the opera:
鈥a duchesse, de d茅esse devenue femme et me semblant tout d'un coup mille fois plus belle, leva vers moi la main gant茅e听qu'elle tenait appuy茅e sur le rebord de la loge, l'agita en signe d'amiti茅, mes regards se sentirent crois茅s par l'incandescence involontaire et les feux des yeux de la princesse, laquelle les avait fait entrer 脿 son insu en conflagration rien qu'en les bougeant pour chercher 脿 voir 脿 qui sa cousine venait de dire bonjour, et celle-ci, qui m'avait reconnu, fit pleuvoir sur moi l'averse 茅tincelante et c茅leste de son sourire.
The duchess 鈥� changed from goddess to woman, and seeming suddenly a thousand times more beautiful to me 鈥� took the gloved hand that was holding on to the edge of the box and raised it in my direction, waving it in a gesture of friendship; it felt like my glance had been intersected by the fiery, spontaneously incandescent eyes of the princess, who, without moving them, had unknowingly kindled them into flame by trying to see whom her cousin had just greeted; and she, having recognised me, let the sparkling and celestial cloudburst of her smile rain down upon me.
Here that incredible 鈥榮mile鈥� is (though not in my translation) kept back to the very last word of the whole long paragraph, so that the sentence bursts on you in much the same way that the duchess's smile did on our narrator. No wonder that Virginia Woolf thought there was something sexual in the whole experience of reading Proust. I agree, and I think it depends a great deal on the specificities of French grammar, so that if he can be translated well, it must be extremely loosely. His method is a very consciously linguistic one.
And that awareness of language is everywhere. He talks disparagingly of 鈥榗omposite and multicoloured鈥� modern speech patterns, but reproduces them lovingly in the dialogue of his characters (though never 鈥� heaven forfend! 鈥� in the narrative voice). He lingers over aristocratic slang, and the titled habit of giving everyone nicknames (Kikim, Quiou, Mignonne); he assiduously reproduces trendy anglicisms and German accents. He is moved to kiss Albertine when she uses the phrase 脿 mon sens, and moments later goes off her because she uses the word 尘辞耻蝉尘茅. More than once there seems to be something synaesthetic about it: pondering over Mme de Guermantes, he talks about 鈥榯he amaranthine colour of the final syllable of her name鈥�.
Echoes resound across the pages: the construction he uses above of Mme de Guermantes (l'averse 茅tincelante et c茅leste de son sourire) is mirrored, hundreds of pages later, by an opposing description of M de Charlus (la dispersion anonyme et vacante de son sourire.). The same thing happens across books. Descriptions in here where people are imagined as marine wildlife (the marquis de Palancy moves slowly like 鈥榓 passing fish鈥� and, thousands of words later, we hear of 鈥榓mphibious men and women鈥� swimming slowly through the 鈥榯hick liqueur鈥� of the gaslights) seem to call back to the section in Jeunes Filles where he sees the hotel restaurant in Balbec as a giant aquarium.
Connections like this are at the heart of Proust's method, and are linked to the way memory works. He talks about it a little in passing in this volume, in a section that might serve as a kind of mission statement for the whole project:
Ainsi les espaces de ma m茅moire se couvraient peu 脿 peu de noms qui, en s'ordonnant, en se composant les uns relativement aux autres, en nouant entre eux des rapports de plus en plus nombreux, imitaient ces 艙uvres d'art achev茅es o霉 il n'y a pas une seule touche qui soit isol茅e, o霉 chaque partie tour 脿 tour re莽oit des autres sa raison d'锚tre comme elle leur impose la sienne.
Thus the spaces of my memory gradually became covered over with names which, by arranging themselves relative to each other, and tying themselves in knots of increasingly numerous interrelationships, resembled those accomplished works of art where no brushstroke is isolated, where every part in turn gets its reason for being from all the others, just as it imposes its own on them.
Little wonder that Proust even imagines the resurrection of the soul as 鈥榓 phenomenon of memory鈥�. This memory-based method can seem confusing, even overwhelming, at times 鈥� but this is by design. La limpidit茅 me parut de l鈥檌nsuffisance, he says at one point: clarity struck me as inadequacy. An extremely telling phrase.
None of which dreamy admiration is to say that I didn't often feel my heart sink when I turned the page and saw acres of single-paragraph text stretching away before me. But there's a companionship to it, too. As people queued past my seat to get off the train in Basel, an old monsieur tapped me on the arm: 鈥楢 fellow Proustian!鈥� he said with delight. 鈥榃here are you up to?鈥� The Guermantes Way, I told him. He looked dubiously at the amount of book still in my right hand as he shuffled past, and said politely, 鈥業 hope you aren't planning to get off the train any time soon?鈥�
August 21, 2013
Guermantes Way is like the pretentious, over-educated older sister of Budding Grove who constantly outdoes her little sister at everything. She's longer, she's more boring, she's more interesting, she's wittier and funnier, and she just loves to show off how much she knows.
We really get to know Saint Loup in this volume, as well as the Guermantes family in general - who are some pretty superficial crazies anyway. M., being a creep, stalks Mme. de Guermantes everyday on her morning walks, and befriends her nephew, Saint-Loup and is like "oh can I have that picture of your aunt? ...why? uh......." - whatever, we've all been there right? ..right? ....anyone? anyone? Bueller?
We also get historical in this one with the Dreyfus affair as the background. There are a few Jewish characters, Bloch who is totally oblivious about being unwanted and annoying, and Charles Swann who of course we love and sympathize with since he married a whore. The Dreyfus affair really wears Swann out, which is sad, but as a reader you're really distracted by the total creepiness of Marcel so you get over it pretty quickly.
This chapter also emerges us in, what every book ought to have, TONS OF SOCIETY BITCHES. And they're all really obsessed with seeming witty (which I've learned from Balzac is REALLY important to French people). We get a LOT of Mme. de Guermantes superrr bitchy opinions about her friends and family. Like Princess de Parma and etc. We also hear lots of gossip about people we've met, like Charlus and his dead wife and M. de Norpois and his affair with Mme. de Villeparisis. SCANDALOUS. My only complaint about this volume is I felt like it talked about the lineage of the Guermantes for way too long, and like, the lineages of everyone in all of France. It got rather dry for a good 30-100 pages, but it picked up later.
This book kind of kills Elstir in M.'s eyes a little since the Guermantes don't like his paintings. Whatever...bitches.
There's a really funny scene (and witty, go figure) where B. de Charlus has given M. a book of Bergotte's (which happens pretty much right after he's all like "Bergotte sucks"), and then Charlus calls M. to his house and accuses him of slandering him because M. told people he would help him into society (which he did), and he says "Similarly, you did not even recognize on the binding of Bergotte's book the lintel of myosotis over the door of Balbec church. Could there have been a clearer way of saying to you: 'Forget me not!'?" I laughed out loud in an untrammeled geeky way, since it is totally absurd to read that much into such a thing.
The book ends on a CLIFFHANGER. Guys, Proust is basically the Agatha Christie of 4000 page novel-y things that sorta don't have a plot and sorta don't have action verbs and stuff. It ends and its like, WILL M. BE INVITED TO THIS PARTY? You would die without knowing if you didn't ever read volume four. How could you live with that suspense? You couldn't. Onto V.4: Sodom + Gomorrah!
We really get to know Saint Loup in this volume, as well as the Guermantes family in general - who are some pretty superficial crazies anyway. M., being a creep, stalks Mme. de Guermantes everyday on her morning walks, and befriends her nephew, Saint-Loup and is like "oh can I have that picture of your aunt? ...why? uh......." - whatever, we've all been there right? ..right? ....anyone? anyone? Bueller?
We also get historical in this one with the Dreyfus affair as the background. There are a few Jewish characters, Bloch who is totally oblivious about being unwanted and annoying, and Charles Swann who of course we love and sympathize with since he married a whore. The Dreyfus affair really wears Swann out, which is sad, but as a reader you're really distracted by the total creepiness of Marcel so you get over it pretty quickly.
This chapter also emerges us in, what every book ought to have, TONS OF SOCIETY BITCHES. And they're all really obsessed with seeming witty (which I've learned from Balzac is REALLY important to French people). We get a LOT of Mme. de Guermantes superrr bitchy opinions about her friends and family. Like Princess de Parma and etc. We also hear lots of gossip about people we've met, like Charlus and his dead wife and M. de Norpois and his affair with Mme. de Villeparisis. SCANDALOUS. My only complaint about this volume is I felt like it talked about the lineage of the Guermantes for way too long, and like, the lineages of everyone in all of France. It got rather dry for a good 30-100 pages, but it picked up later.
This book kind of kills Elstir in M.'s eyes a little since the Guermantes don't like his paintings. Whatever...bitches.
There's a really funny scene (and witty, go figure) where B. de Charlus has given M. a book of Bergotte's (which happens pretty much right after he's all like "Bergotte sucks"), and then Charlus calls M. to his house and accuses him of slandering him because M. told people he would help him into society (which he did), and he says "Similarly, you did not even recognize on the binding of Bergotte's book the lintel of myosotis over the door of Balbec church. Could there have been a clearer way of saying to you: 'Forget me not!'?" I laughed out loud in an untrammeled geeky way, since it is totally absurd to read that much into such a thing.
The book ends on a CLIFFHANGER. Guys, Proust is basically the Agatha Christie of 4000 page novel-y things that sorta don't have a plot and sorta don't have action verbs and stuff. It ends and its like, WILL M. BE INVITED TO THIS PARTY? You would die without knowing if you didn't ever read volume four. How could you live with that suspense? You couldn't. Onto V.4: Sodom + Gomorrah!
November 20, 2022
Translator Lucy Raitz makes this not unreasonable assertion in a recent Guardian article.....
"The one to give a miss. Ideally, you wouldn鈥檛 skip any of them, but 鈥� in volume four, The Guermantes Way (Part Two) a staggering number of pages are devoted to one evening at the Duchesse de Guermantes鈥檚 house in the Faubourg St Germain in Paris."
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It's easy to forget that Proust never had a true editor. A good editor would have cut this volume WAY back. It's definitely the sloggiest of all the volumes.
A heavy dose of snobby aristocrats in this volume. People whom Proust will later come to despise.
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Virginia Woolf on Proust....
/quotes/7013...
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A sample of his style...
A few drops of rain fall noiselessly on the ancient water, which, in its divine infancy, still changes constantly with the conditions of the moment, and continually forgets the reflections of clouds and flowers. And after the geraniums, by intensifying their brilliant color, have put up a vain struggle against the gathering twilight, a mist comes to envelop the island as it falls into slumber; you walk in the moist darkness along the water鈥檚 edge, where the only thing likely to startle you is the silent passage of a swan, like the briefly wide-open eyes and smile of a child in bed at night who you thought was asleep. And because you feel alone and the world can seem far away, you long all the more to have a lover walking beside you.
-------
From the Introduction鈥�
The narrator鈥檚 beloved grandmother dies. But there seems to be a deliberate strategy to frame 'The Guermantes Way" in black, to emphasize that its world of social activity unfolds amid death and loss (actual or anticipated).
But these are held at bay by the focus on a social world obsessed with appearances, whose peculiar ethics is unable to respond adequately to them. Interesting in this respect is the fact that the narrator himself refrains, in these volumes, from any account of the immediate effect of his grandmother鈥檚 death upon him. The affective impact is to be treated later, in "Sodom and Gomorrah."
Playing out a role: notations of theatricality鈥� and they abound鈥� are an important feature of the way the society world is presented by Proust. It鈥檚 the presentation of social life as an addictive theatrical performance which helps both to pass the time and to anesthetize awareness of the fact that time in the end runs out, that death and loss are inevitable.
With the glittering spectacle of the Princesse de Guermantes鈥檚 theater box, the narrator is drowned in an illusion. And when in the course of this evening at the Op茅ra the Duchesse de Guermantes enters her cousin鈥檚 box鈥攁 deliberately staged late entrance鈥攁nd unexpectedly acknowledges the narrator's presence with a smile, he is fully won over into the illusion and propelled upon the quest for access to this woman and her world. That world is presented to us as a series of performances, and its salons and dinner parties are characterized by an insistence on setting, entries and exits, ritualized codes and gestures, the pageantry of aristocratic titles, the need to adopt roles and to impress an audience, fastidious consciousness of dress and fashion.
Mme de Villeparisis is also motivated by social aspirations and rivalries, and her salon, frequented not only by intellectuals but by her Guermantes relations, is a confused dumb-show in which her intellectual acquaintances are at a loss how to conduct themselves adequately with her more aristocratic callers. The comic charade with hats that runs as a theme throughout the narrator鈥檚 afternoon visit to her salon underlines the disparity of mind and attitude among her various guests, whose conversations reflect a fragmented medley of evasiveness, ignorant assertion, rivalry, prejudice, sheer malice, and, famously in the case of Norpois on Dreyfus, the art of saying nothing.
Proust chooses to preface the Villeparisis afternoon reception with another theater episode. Here the narrator speculates on the real motivations of actors under their greasepaint masks, on the way in which the stage uses distance and disguise convincingly, whereas in close-up and unmasked, actors can lose their glamour.
The point is emphasized in the predilection of society people for the theatricals, recitations, and fancy-dress balls that are frequently referred to. The second of the two long set-pieces in the book (the Guermantes dinner party), if we compare it with the salon of Mme de Villeparisis, is a deliberately staged event. The whole theatrical performance centers upon the parade of 鈥渨it鈥� from the star performer, Mme de Guermantes, with her husband acting out the role of her impresario.
Of course it demands a willing audience, but to be invited to her house is already to have submitted to snobbish captivation, and her guests are unquestioning of the power she holds over them, and also fearful of her. Her abilities as an actress are to do with holding people at the distance that suits her and thereby maintaining a safe distance between herself and issues that could demand serious ethical or intellectual commitment.
In Guermantes, the narrator, admitted to the Duchesse鈥檚 society after he has been cured of his infatuation with her, tends to record what he sees and hears, to note the disparity between glamour seen from a distance and the triviality it masks when encountered at close quarters.
The narrator is still young, but he has recognized that, as one reviewer put it....
"The Duchesse (aka Oriane) values artists, but not art; comment, but not analysis. She is unthinking, unreflective, cruel and petty because she swims only in the shallows."
======
Early in this volume, the narrator attends a symphony performance. As the lights go down, he imagines that every one there is immersed in an aquatic environment.
"As the performance proceeded, their vaguely human forms began to emerge in languid succession from the depths of the darkness they embroidered, and, rising toward the light, they allowed their half-naked bodies to emerge as far as the vertical surface of half-light where their gleaming faces appeared behind the gently playful foam of their fluttering feather fans, and beneath their purple, pearl-threaded coiffures, which seemed to have been bent by the motion of incoming waves....
....these radiant daughters of the sea were constantly turning round to smile at the bearded tritons who hung from the anfractuous rocks of the ocean depths, or at some aquatic demigod, whose skull was a polished stone, around which the tide had washed up a smooth deposit of seaweed, and whose gaze was a disc of rock crystal.
Like a great goddess who presides from afar over the sport of lesser deities, the Princesse had deliberately remained somewhat to the back of her box, on a side-facing sofa, red as a coral rock, beside a wide, vitreous reflection that was probably a mirror, and which suggested a section, perpendicular, dark, and liquid, cut by a ray of sunlight in the dazzled crystal of the sea."
========
THE DENIAL OF DEATH
Swann has terminal cancer. The very end of the book gives a bitter taste of what these people, the Duc and Duchess of Guermantes, are really like.
鈥淚t would be a joke in charming taste,鈥� replied Swann ironically. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know why I鈥檓 telling you this. I鈥檝e never mentioned my illness to you before. But since you asked me, and since now I may die at any moment . . . But, please, the last thing I want to do is to hold you up, and you鈥檝e got a dinner party to go to,鈥� he added, because he knew that for other people their own social obligations mattered more than the death of a friend, and as a man of considerate politeness he put himself in their place.
But the Duchesse鈥檚 own sense of manners afforded her, too, a confused glimpse of the fact that for Swann her dinner party must count for less than his own death. And so, while still moving toward her carriage, she said with a droop of her shoulders, 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry about the dinner party. It鈥檚 of no importance!鈥� But her words put the Duc in a bad mood, and he burst out: 鈥淐ome along, Oriane, don鈥檛 just stand there with your chatter, whining away to Swann, when you know very well that Mme de Saint-Euverte makes a point of having her guests sit down at the table at eight o鈥檆lock sharp. We need you to make up your mind. They will say: 鈥渋t鈥檚 ten minutes to eight. Oriane is always late, and it will take us more than five minutes to get to old Mother Saint-Euverte.鈥�
Mme de Guermantes made a decisive move toward the carriage and said a last farewell to Swann. 鈥淟ook, we鈥檒l talk about this some other time. I don鈥檛 believe a word you鈥檝e been saying, but we need to discuss it, just the two of us. I鈥檓 sure they鈥檝e given you unnecessary cause for alarm. Come and have lunch, any day you like鈥濃€攆or Mme de Guermantes, lunch was the answer to all problems鈥斺€測ou need only to let me know the day and the time.鈥�
And, lifting her skirt, she set her foot on the carriage step. She was about to get in when the Duc caught sight of her foot and thundered out: 鈥淥riane, you wretched woman, what are you thinking of? You鈥檙e still wearing your black shoes! With a red dress! Go up quickly and change into your red ones. No, wait,鈥� he said, turning to the footman, 鈥済o and tell Madame鈥檚 maid to bring down a pair of red shoes at once.鈥�
鈥淏ut, my dear,鈥� said the Duchesse softly, embarrassed to see that Swann, who was leaving the house with me but had stepped back to let the carriage pass out in front of us, had heard this, 鈥済iven that we鈥檙e late . . .鈥�
鈥淣o, no, we have plenty of time. It鈥檚 only ten to. It won鈥檛 take us ten minutes to get to the Parc Monceau. And anyway, what does it matter? Even if we arrive at half past eight, they鈥檒l still wait for us, but you simply can鈥檛 go there in a red dress and black shoes. Besides, we won鈥檛 be the last to arrive, believe me. The Sassensages are coming. You know that they never turn up before twenty to nine.鈥�
The Duchesse went up to her room.
鈥淗uh!鈥� said The Doc de Guermantes to Swann and me. 鈥淧eople laugh at us poor husbands, but we鈥檙e not completely useless. If it weren鈥檛 for me, Oriane would have gone out to dinner in black shoes.鈥�
鈥淭hey were by no means a disaster,鈥� said Swann. 鈥淚 noticed the black shoes and I didn鈥檛 find them remotely offensive.鈥�
鈥淵ou may be right,鈥� replied the Duc, 鈥渂ut it looks more elegant to have them matching the dress. Anyway, you can set your mind at rest. No sooner had she got there than she would have noticed, and I would have been the one who had to come back and fetch the others, which means I wouldn鈥檛 have eaten till nine o鈥檆lock. Goodbye, my dear boys,鈥� he said, thrusting us gently away, 鈥渙ff you go, now, before Oriane comes down. It鈥檚 not that she doesn鈥檛 like seeing you. If she finds you still here, she鈥檒l start talking again. She鈥檚 already very tired, and she鈥檒l be dead by the time she gets to that dinner. And, quite frankly, I have to tell you that I鈥檓 dying of hunger. I had a miserable lunch this morning, when I came from the train. That sauce b茅arnaise was damn good, certainly, but in spite of that I won鈥檛 be sorry, no two ways about it, to sit down to dinner. Five to eight! That鈥檚 women for you! She鈥檒l give us both indigestion before the night鈥檚 out. She鈥檚 far less robust than people think.鈥�
The Duc had absolutely no qualms in speaking in this way about his wife鈥檚 petty discomforts and his own to a dying man, for, because they were what was uppermost in his mind, they seemed more important to him. And so, after he had gently steered us to the door, it was merely his jocund sense of good manners that led him to boom out after Swann, who was already in the courtyard, in a voice for all to hear:
鈥淣ow, mind you don鈥檛 let all this damned doctors鈥� nonsense get to you. They鈥檙e fools. You鈥檙e in strapping shape. You鈥檒l live to see us all in our graves!鈥�
=====
The real Duchess de Guermantes, captured in this revelatory and entertaining short review...
"The one to give a miss. Ideally, you wouldn鈥檛 skip any of them, but 鈥� in volume four, The Guermantes Way (Part Two) a staggering number of pages are devoted to one evening at the Duchesse de Guermantes鈥檚 house in the Faubourg St Germain in Paris."
=====
It's easy to forget that Proust never had a true editor. A good editor would have cut this volume WAY back. It's definitely the sloggiest of all the volumes.
A heavy dose of snobby aristocrats in this volume. People whom Proust will later come to despise.
===========
Virginia Woolf on Proust....
/quotes/7013...
=======
A sample of his style...
A few drops of rain fall noiselessly on the ancient water, which, in its divine infancy, still changes constantly with the conditions of the moment, and continually forgets the reflections of clouds and flowers. And after the geraniums, by intensifying their brilliant color, have put up a vain struggle against the gathering twilight, a mist comes to envelop the island as it falls into slumber; you walk in the moist darkness along the water鈥檚 edge, where the only thing likely to startle you is the silent passage of a swan, like the briefly wide-open eyes and smile of a child in bed at night who you thought was asleep. And because you feel alone and the world can seem far away, you long all the more to have a lover walking beside you.
-------
From the Introduction鈥�
The narrator鈥檚 beloved grandmother dies. But there seems to be a deliberate strategy to frame 'The Guermantes Way" in black, to emphasize that its world of social activity unfolds amid death and loss (actual or anticipated).
But these are held at bay by the focus on a social world obsessed with appearances, whose peculiar ethics is unable to respond adequately to them. Interesting in this respect is the fact that the narrator himself refrains, in these volumes, from any account of the immediate effect of his grandmother鈥檚 death upon him. The affective impact is to be treated later, in "Sodom and Gomorrah."
Playing out a role: notations of theatricality鈥� and they abound鈥� are an important feature of the way the society world is presented by Proust. It鈥檚 the presentation of social life as an addictive theatrical performance which helps both to pass the time and to anesthetize awareness of the fact that time in the end runs out, that death and loss are inevitable.
With the glittering spectacle of the Princesse de Guermantes鈥檚 theater box, the narrator is drowned in an illusion. And when in the course of this evening at the Op茅ra the Duchesse de Guermantes enters her cousin鈥檚 box鈥攁 deliberately staged late entrance鈥攁nd unexpectedly acknowledges the narrator's presence with a smile, he is fully won over into the illusion and propelled upon the quest for access to this woman and her world. That world is presented to us as a series of performances, and its salons and dinner parties are characterized by an insistence on setting, entries and exits, ritualized codes and gestures, the pageantry of aristocratic titles, the need to adopt roles and to impress an audience, fastidious consciousness of dress and fashion.
Mme de Villeparisis is also motivated by social aspirations and rivalries, and her salon, frequented not only by intellectuals but by her Guermantes relations, is a confused dumb-show in which her intellectual acquaintances are at a loss how to conduct themselves adequately with her more aristocratic callers. The comic charade with hats that runs as a theme throughout the narrator鈥檚 afternoon visit to her salon underlines the disparity of mind and attitude among her various guests, whose conversations reflect a fragmented medley of evasiveness, ignorant assertion, rivalry, prejudice, sheer malice, and, famously in the case of Norpois on Dreyfus, the art of saying nothing.
Proust chooses to preface the Villeparisis afternoon reception with another theater episode. Here the narrator speculates on the real motivations of actors under their greasepaint masks, on the way in which the stage uses distance and disguise convincingly, whereas in close-up and unmasked, actors can lose their glamour.
The point is emphasized in the predilection of society people for the theatricals, recitations, and fancy-dress balls that are frequently referred to. The second of the two long set-pieces in the book (the Guermantes dinner party), if we compare it with the salon of Mme de Villeparisis, is a deliberately staged event. The whole theatrical performance centers upon the parade of 鈥渨it鈥� from the star performer, Mme de Guermantes, with her husband acting out the role of her impresario.
Of course it demands a willing audience, but to be invited to her house is already to have submitted to snobbish captivation, and her guests are unquestioning of the power she holds over them, and also fearful of her. Her abilities as an actress are to do with holding people at the distance that suits her and thereby maintaining a safe distance between herself and issues that could demand serious ethical or intellectual commitment.
In Guermantes, the narrator, admitted to the Duchesse鈥檚 society after he has been cured of his infatuation with her, tends to record what he sees and hears, to note the disparity between glamour seen from a distance and the triviality it masks when encountered at close quarters.
The narrator is still young, but he has recognized that, as one reviewer put it....
"The Duchesse (aka Oriane) values artists, but not art; comment, but not analysis. She is unthinking, unreflective, cruel and petty because she swims only in the shallows."
======
Early in this volume, the narrator attends a symphony performance. As the lights go down, he imagines that every one there is immersed in an aquatic environment.
"As the performance proceeded, their vaguely human forms began to emerge in languid succession from the depths of the darkness they embroidered, and, rising toward the light, they allowed their half-naked bodies to emerge as far as the vertical surface of half-light where their gleaming faces appeared behind the gently playful foam of their fluttering feather fans, and beneath their purple, pearl-threaded coiffures, which seemed to have been bent by the motion of incoming waves....
....these radiant daughters of the sea were constantly turning round to smile at the bearded tritons who hung from the anfractuous rocks of the ocean depths, or at some aquatic demigod, whose skull was a polished stone, around which the tide had washed up a smooth deposit of seaweed, and whose gaze was a disc of rock crystal.
Like a great goddess who presides from afar over the sport of lesser deities, the Princesse had deliberately remained somewhat to the back of her box, on a side-facing sofa, red as a coral rock, beside a wide, vitreous reflection that was probably a mirror, and which suggested a section, perpendicular, dark, and liquid, cut by a ray of sunlight in the dazzled crystal of the sea."
========
THE DENIAL OF DEATH
Swann has terminal cancer. The very end of the book gives a bitter taste of what these people, the Duc and Duchess of Guermantes, are really like.
鈥淚t would be a joke in charming taste,鈥� replied Swann ironically. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know why I鈥檓 telling you this. I鈥檝e never mentioned my illness to you before. But since you asked me, and since now I may die at any moment . . . But, please, the last thing I want to do is to hold you up, and you鈥檝e got a dinner party to go to,鈥� he added, because he knew that for other people their own social obligations mattered more than the death of a friend, and as a man of considerate politeness he put himself in their place.
But the Duchesse鈥檚 own sense of manners afforded her, too, a confused glimpse of the fact that for Swann her dinner party must count for less than his own death. And so, while still moving toward her carriage, she said with a droop of her shoulders, 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry about the dinner party. It鈥檚 of no importance!鈥� But her words put the Duc in a bad mood, and he burst out: 鈥淐ome along, Oriane, don鈥檛 just stand there with your chatter, whining away to Swann, when you know very well that Mme de Saint-Euverte makes a point of having her guests sit down at the table at eight o鈥檆lock sharp. We need you to make up your mind. They will say: 鈥渋t鈥檚 ten minutes to eight. Oriane is always late, and it will take us more than five minutes to get to old Mother Saint-Euverte.鈥�
Mme de Guermantes made a decisive move toward the carriage and said a last farewell to Swann. 鈥淟ook, we鈥檒l talk about this some other time. I don鈥檛 believe a word you鈥檝e been saying, but we need to discuss it, just the two of us. I鈥檓 sure they鈥檝e given you unnecessary cause for alarm. Come and have lunch, any day you like鈥濃€攆or Mme de Guermantes, lunch was the answer to all problems鈥斺€測ou need only to let me know the day and the time.鈥�
And, lifting her skirt, she set her foot on the carriage step. She was about to get in when the Duc caught sight of her foot and thundered out: 鈥淥riane, you wretched woman, what are you thinking of? You鈥檙e still wearing your black shoes! With a red dress! Go up quickly and change into your red ones. No, wait,鈥� he said, turning to the footman, 鈥済o and tell Madame鈥檚 maid to bring down a pair of red shoes at once.鈥�
鈥淏ut, my dear,鈥� said the Duchesse softly, embarrassed to see that Swann, who was leaving the house with me but had stepped back to let the carriage pass out in front of us, had heard this, 鈥済iven that we鈥檙e late . . .鈥�
鈥淣o, no, we have plenty of time. It鈥檚 only ten to. It won鈥檛 take us ten minutes to get to the Parc Monceau. And anyway, what does it matter? Even if we arrive at half past eight, they鈥檒l still wait for us, but you simply can鈥檛 go there in a red dress and black shoes. Besides, we won鈥檛 be the last to arrive, believe me. The Sassensages are coming. You know that they never turn up before twenty to nine.鈥�
The Duchesse went up to her room.
鈥淗uh!鈥� said The Doc de Guermantes to Swann and me. 鈥淧eople laugh at us poor husbands, but we鈥檙e not completely useless. If it weren鈥檛 for me, Oriane would have gone out to dinner in black shoes.鈥�
鈥淭hey were by no means a disaster,鈥� said Swann. 鈥淚 noticed the black shoes and I didn鈥檛 find them remotely offensive.鈥�
鈥淵ou may be right,鈥� replied the Duc, 鈥渂ut it looks more elegant to have them matching the dress. Anyway, you can set your mind at rest. No sooner had she got there than she would have noticed, and I would have been the one who had to come back and fetch the others, which means I wouldn鈥檛 have eaten till nine o鈥檆lock. Goodbye, my dear boys,鈥� he said, thrusting us gently away, 鈥渙ff you go, now, before Oriane comes down. It鈥檚 not that she doesn鈥檛 like seeing you. If she finds you still here, she鈥檒l start talking again. She鈥檚 already very tired, and she鈥檒l be dead by the time she gets to that dinner. And, quite frankly, I have to tell you that I鈥檓 dying of hunger. I had a miserable lunch this morning, when I came from the train. That sauce b茅arnaise was damn good, certainly, but in spite of that I won鈥檛 be sorry, no two ways about it, to sit down to dinner. Five to eight! That鈥檚 women for you! She鈥檒l give us both indigestion before the night鈥檚 out. She鈥檚 far less robust than people think.鈥�
The Duc had absolutely no qualms in speaking in this way about his wife鈥檚 petty discomforts and his own to a dying man, for, because they were what was uppermost in his mind, they seemed more important to him. And so, after he had gently steered us to the door, it was merely his jocund sense of good manners that led him to boom out after Swann, who was already in the courtyard, in a voice for all to hear:
鈥淣ow, mind you don鈥檛 let all this damned doctors鈥� nonsense get to you. They鈥檙e fools. You鈥檙e in strapping shape. You鈥檒l live to see us all in our graves!鈥�
=====
The real Duchess de Guermantes, captured in this revelatory and entertaining short review...
January 20, 2022
鈥淭here is nothing like desire for obstructing any resemblance between what one says and what one has on one's mind.鈥�
In Marcel Proust's The Guermantes Way, the third installment of In Search of Lost Time (also translated as Remembrance of Things Past), we are fully immersed into the intricacies of French high society. The people in this milieu feel real and even human, except when they prioritize the rules of society over showing human emotion. Still, you feel you are in the drawing rooms with Proust and any number of noble gentlemen and ladies, deciding on who to exclude from society, commenting on the matters of the day and taking a stand on the Dreyfuss Affair. The role of antisemitism (sometimes cloaked by one's opinion on the Dreyfuss Affair) spans nearly the entirety of the book. There are also touching scenes with the narrator's grandmother who was a near-constant presence in the last book. Engaging and immersive!
鈥淚t is illness that makes us recognize that we do not live in isolation but are chained to a being from a different realm, worlds apart from us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body. Were we to meet a brigand on the road, we might manage to make him conscious of his own personal interest if not our plight. But to ask pity of our body is like talking to an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the sea, and with which we should be terrified to find ourselves condemned to live.鈥�
"We may, indeed, say that the hour of death is uncertain, but when we say so we represent that hour to ourselves as situated in a vague and remote expanse of time, it never occurs to us that it can have any connexion with the day that has already dawned, or may signify that death 鈥� or its first assault and partial possession of us, after which it will never leave hold of us again 鈥� may occur this very afternoon, so far from uncertain, this afternoon every hour of which has already been allotted to some occupation."
鈥淪he was not yet dead. But I was already alone.鈥�
In Marcel Proust's The Guermantes Way, the third installment of In Search of Lost Time (also translated as Remembrance of Things Past), we are fully immersed into the intricacies of French high society. The people in this milieu feel real and even human, except when they prioritize the rules of society over showing human emotion. Still, you feel you are in the drawing rooms with Proust and any number of noble gentlemen and ladies, deciding on who to exclude from society, commenting on the matters of the day and taking a stand on the Dreyfuss Affair. The role of antisemitism (sometimes cloaked by one's opinion on the Dreyfuss Affair) spans nearly the entirety of the book. There are also touching scenes with the narrator's grandmother who was a near-constant presence in the last book. Engaging and immersive!
鈥淚t is illness that makes us recognize that we do not live in isolation but are chained to a being from a different realm, worlds apart from us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body. Were we to meet a brigand on the road, we might manage to make him conscious of his own personal interest if not our plight. But to ask pity of our body is like talking to an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the sea, and with which we should be terrified to find ourselves condemned to live.鈥�
"We may, indeed, say that the hour of death is uncertain, but when we say so we represent that hour to ourselves as situated in a vague and remote expanse of time, it never occurs to us that it can have any connexion with the day that has already dawned, or may signify that death 鈥� or its first assault and partial possession of us, after which it will never leave hold of us again 鈥� may occur this very afternoon, so far from uncertain, this afternoon every hour of which has already been allotted to some occupation."
鈥淪he was not yet dead. But I was already alone.鈥�
March 7, 2022
23rd book of 2022.
I met my own Swann the other day. This is not a name given in likeness, but truly, my old professor has the surname Swann; and the other day I was getting a train home and he wandered into the station with his collapsible bike looking exhausted, but without a doubt, Swann. He pointed to the final carriage where it was quieter and we boarded the train together, he holding his bike, and I, Vol. 3 of Proust under my arm. I knew his train ride home was reserved for unwinding from the world of reading and writing, so he didn鈥檛 ask me about the latter at all. Instead, we discussed Ukraine, the time he spent in Bulgaria and the mafia there (somehow we found ourselves on this topic), our families, my girlfriend (whom he knows, another ex-student of his and old classmate of mine), his wife, etc., as we tunnelled through the dark evening. As I prepared for my oncoming stop, he noticed Proust as I began to slide it into my bag. Ah, you鈥檙e reading 脌 la recherche du temps perdu, he said. I read the one named after me鈥攊t鈥檚 wonderful, isn鈥檛 it?鈥攂ut never continued. One of my biggest regrets. I told him it was wonderful, particularly, I agreed, the one named after him. By then I had placed Proust back in my bag and stood up. Once the train had stopped I told him to keep shining his light (something a prisoner once told him, 鈥淵ou just have to keep shining your light鈥�, when he worked in prisons, getting them to read and write and find empathy) and left the carriage.
Vol. 3 of In Search of Lost Time was a brilliant read, far better, for me, than Vol. 2 [1], which was a little too slow and long, dealing with our young narrator in love. That鈥檚 usually my sort of thing: love, and art too, but for some reason I slogged through parts of the previous volume and it didn鈥檛 grab me as the first had. As far as explaining Vol. 3 goes, I wasn鈥檛 looking forward to it. All 700 pages record our narrator鈥檚 struggles to infiltrate Parisian high society. 鈥楶arties鈥� go on for hundreds of pages, and they really are rich people sitting around talking about other rich people, their lives, etc.; it was easy to see how before starting I was daunted by the thought of it. But instead, I could hardly put the novel down. The whole thing is dripping with satire and wit, the whole thing is a giant mockery of high society. And it鈥檚 brilliant. It鈥檚 so intelligent, at times humorous, at times warm; somehow, Proust nails it. And for the first time, Proust鈥檚 masterpiece is beginning to feel like a 鈥榥ovel鈥�: the characters are beginning to cement themselves, our narrator is now on his way to adulthood and becoming more concrete. Everything is firmer than the mostly abstract, etherealness of the first two volumes, which I adored in the first, and less so in the second. This feels a little like the novel is just now beginning, some 1,600/1,700 pages in. But, I suppose if you think about the novel鈥檚 size, the portion we are in is probably equivalent to the long openings novels used to have, setting up characters and whatnot, so now perhaps this is the 鈥榖eginning鈥�. But yeah this is brilliant stuff, worthy of a rare 5-stars from me.
_________________________
[1] My copy of Vol. 2 now sits on my shelf, warped and swollen, from getting saturated on a long walk through Cambridge in torrential English rain.
I met my own Swann the other day. This is not a name given in likeness, but truly, my old professor has the surname Swann; and the other day I was getting a train home and he wandered into the station with his collapsible bike looking exhausted, but without a doubt, Swann. He pointed to the final carriage where it was quieter and we boarded the train together, he holding his bike, and I, Vol. 3 of Proust under my arm. I knew his train ride home was reserved for unwinding from the world of reading and writing, so he didn鈥檛 ask me about the latter at all. Instead, we discussed Ukraine, the time he spent in Bulgaria and the mafia there (somehow we found ourselves on this topic), our families, my girlfriend (whom he knows, another ex-student of his and old classmate of mine), his wife, etc., as we tunnelled through the dark evening. As I prepared for my oncoming stop, he noticed Proust as I began to slide it into my bag. Ah, you鈥檙e reading 脌 la recherche du temps perdu, he said. I read the one named after me鈥攊t鈥檚 wonderful, isn鈥檛 it?鈥攂ut never continued. One of my biggest regrets. I told him it was wonderful, particularly, I agreed, the one named after him. By then I had placed Proust back in my bag and stood up. Once the train had stopped I told him to keep shining his light (something a prisoner once told him, 鈥淵ou just have to keep shining your light鈥�, when he worked in prisons, getting them to read and write and find empathy) and left the carriage.
Vol. 3 of In Search of Lost Time was a brilliant read, far better, for me, than Vol. 2 [1], which was a little too slow and long, dealing with our young narrator in love. That鈥檚 usually my sort of thing: love, and art too, but for some reason I slogged through parts of the previous volume and it didn鈥檛 grab me as the first had. As far as explaining Vol. 3 goes, I wasn鈥檛 looking forward to it. All 700 pages record our narrator鈥檚 struggles to infiltrate Parisian high society. 鈥楶arties鈥� go on for hundreds of pages, and they really are rich people sitting around talking about other rich people, their lives, etc.; it was easy to see how before starting I was daunted by the thought of it. But instead, I could hardly put the novel down. The whole thing is dripping with satire and wit, the whole thing is a giant mockery of high society. And it鈥檚 brilliant. It鈥檚 so intelligent, at times humorous, at times warm; somehow, Proust nails it. And for the first time, Proust鈥檚 masterpiece is beginning to feel like a 鈥榥ovel鈥�: the characters are beginning to cement themselves, our narrator is now on his way to adulthood and becoming more concrete. Everything is firmer than the mostly abstract, etherealness of the first two volumes, which I adored in the first, and less so in the second. This feels a little like the novel is just now beginning, some 1,600/1,700 pages in. But, I suppose if you think about the novel鈥檚 size, the portion we are in is probably equivalent to the long openings novels used to have, setting up characters and whatnot, so now perhaps this is the 鈥榖eginning鈥�. But yeah this is brilliant stuff, worthy of a rare 5-stars from me.
_________________________
[1] My copy of Vol. 2 now sits on my shelf, warped and swollen, from getting saturated on a long walk through Cambridge in torrential English rain.
September 6, 2015
the literary equivalent of that (genius but dull as rocks) 10 minute tracking shot in le week-end.
September 16, 2020
賴乇 趩蹖 讴賴 丕夭 噩爻鬲噩賵 賲蹖鈥屭柏辟� 賯乇蹖丨賴鈥屰� 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏蹖 倬乇賵爻鬲 亘賴 卮讴賱 賵丕囟丨蹖 丨爻 賲蹖鈥屫促�. 賴乇 氐賮丨賴鈥屰� 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 亘賴賲 孬丕亘鬲 賲蹖鈥屸€屭┴必� 讴賴 賴賳乇 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏蹖 趩賴 賲毓賳丕蹖蹖 丿丕乇賴.
賮讴乇 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 卮賳賵賳丿賴 亘賵丿賳 賵 氐亘賵乇 亘賵丿賳 亘丕毓孬 賲蹖鈥屫促� 禺賵賳丿賳 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 胤毓賲 丿賱倬匕蹖乇蹖 亘诏蹖乇賴 賵 亘卮賴 丕夭 禺賵賳丿賳卮 亘蹖卮鬲乇 賱匕鬲 亘乇丿.
倬乇 丕夭 丕爻賲鈥屬囏� 賵 倬乇 丕夭 鬲賵氐蹖賮丕鬲 賵 噩賲賱賴鈥屬囏й� 胤賵賱丕賳蹖 賵 噩锟斤拷賱亘 丕蹖賳讴賴 亘賴 胤乇夭 毓噩蹖亘蹖 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗃� 丕丨爻丕爻丕鬲蹖 讴賴 亘蹖丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫促� 乇賵 丨爻 讴賳蹖貙 馗丕賴乇丕 亘丕蹖丿 禺蹖賱蹖 丿賵乇 亘丕卮賴 賵賱蹖 亘賴 卮丿鬲 賳夭丿蹖讴 亘賴 禺賵丿賲 丨爻卮 賲蹖鈥屭┴必�.
賵 亘丕夭 賴賲 丕夭 丌賯丕蹖 爻丨丕亘蹖 賴賲 讴賲丕賱 鬲卮讴乇 賵 賯丿乇丿丕賳蹖 乇賵 丿丕乇賲.
賮讴乇 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 卮賳賵賳丿賴 亘賵丿賳 賵 氐亘賵乇 亘賵丿賳 亘丕毓孬 賲蹖鈥屫促� 禺賵賳丿賳 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 胤毓賲 丿賱倬匕蹖乇蹖 亘诏蹖乇賴 賵 亘卮賴 丕夭 禺賵賳丿賳卮 亘蹖卮鬲乇 賱匕鬲 亘乇丿.
倬乇 丕夭 丕爻賲鈥屬囏� 賵 倬乇 丕夭 鬲賵氐蹖賮丕鬲 賵 噩賲賱賴鈥屬囏й� 胤賵賱丕賳蹖 賵 噩锟斤拷賱亘 丕蹖賳讴賴 亘賴 胤乇夭 毓噩蹖亘蹖 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗃� 丕丨爻丕爻丕鬲蹖 讴賴 亘蹖丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫促� 乇賵 丨爻 讴賳蹖貙 馗丕賴乇丕 亘丕蹖丿 禺蹖賱蹖 丿賵乇 亘丕卮賴 賵賱蹖 亘賴 卮丿鬲 賳夭丿蹖讴 亘賴 禺賵丿賲 丨爻卮 賲蹖鈥屭┴必�.
賵 亘丕夭 賴賲 丕夭 丌賯丕蹖 爻丨丕亘蹖 賴賲 讴賲丕賱 鬲卮讴乇 賵 賯丿乇丿丕賳蹖 乇賵 丿丕乇賲.
August 2, 2023
Te拧ko je u ovom slu膷aju re膰i ne拧to bez zapljuskivanja superlativima. Boravak u svetu 'Traganja' uvek nagra膽uje i to upravo svime onime 拧to deluje kao vi拧ak. Ali 拧ta je rasko拧 bez vi拧ka? Rasko拧 salona prenatrpanog luksuznim, egzoti膷nim, misterioznim i svim drugim predmetima, koji su dodatno zanimljivi u odnosu na to 拧ta gosti mogu o njima re膰i. Tra膷, govorkanja, gu啪va utisaka: 啪ivot!
Dobro. Mo啪da bih se mogao izvu膰i spiskom. Kratkim, za orijentaciju i dugo se膰anje:
1) Fransoaza definitivno slu啪i za smeh i razonodu. Humor u poku拧ajima dramati膷nosti uvek veseli. Posluga je du拧a doma膰instva.
2) "(...) 褌械 褋邪屑 褋褏胁邪褌懈芯 写邪 褋械 薪械 褉邪蟹谢懈泻褍褬械 褋邪屑芯 褎懈蟹懈褔泻懈 褋胁械褌 芯写 懈蟹谐谢械写邪 褍 泻芯褬械屑 谐邪 屑懈 胁懈写懈屑芯 薪械谐芯 写邪 褬械 褋胁邪泻邪 褋褌胁邪褉薪芯褋褌 屑芯卸写邪 懈褋褌芯 褌芯谢懈泻芯 写褉褍谐邪褔懈褬邪 芯写 芯薪械 泻邪泻胁褍 胁械褉褍褬械屑芯 写邪 薪械锌芯褋褉械写薪芯 芯锌邪卸邪屑芯, 邪 泻芯褬褍 褋泻谢邪锌邪屑芯 锌芯屑芯褯褍 锌褉械写褋褌邪胁邪 泻芯褬械 褋械 薪械 锌芯泻邪蟹褍褬褍, 邪谢懈 写械褬褋褌胁褍褬褍. 泻邪芯谐芯写 褕褌芯 薪懈 写褉胁械褯械, 褋褍薪褑械 懈 薪械斜芯 薪械 斜懈 斜懈谢懈 芯薪邪泻胁懈 泻邪泻胁械 懈褏 屑懈 胁懈写懈屑芯 泻邪写 斜懈 懈褏 褋锌芯蟹薪邪胁邪谢邪 斜懈褯邪 泻芯褬懈屑邪 斜懈 芯褔懈 斜懈谢械 写褉褍泻褔懈褬械 褋邪蟹写邪薪械 薪械谐芯 薪邪褕械 懈谢懈 斜懈 锌邪泻 懈屑邪谢邪 蟹邪 褌芯 薪械泻邪泻胁械 写褉褍谐械 芯褉谐邪薪械, 邪 薪械 芯褔懈, 泻芯褬懈 斜懈 懈屑 芯 写褉胁械褯褍, 薪械斜褍 懈 褋褍薪褑褍 锌褉褍卸邪谢懈 薪械泻械 芯写谐芯胁邪褉邪褬褍褯械, 邪谢懈 薪械 胁懈写薪械 芯锌邪卸邪褬械." (61)
3) Sastanak sa Sen-Luom u hotelu i prolazak kroz dvori拧te, pored u啪arenih kuhinja. (89)
4) Nikad ne treba potceniti podsticajnost Drajfusove afere za rasplamsavanje govorkanja i svih onih doga膽aja o kojima ve膰ina ljudi, zapravo, pojma nema, a imaju neodoljivu potrebu da ne拧to izjave.
5) Sen-Lu je mutan lik, kao i njegova (biv拧a) Rahela. Pogledati kako se ophodi sa pripoveda膷em i kakav to 'elementarni oganj' prepoznaje (95).
6) Prikaz smrti bake je apsolutno remek-delo. Pogledati smrti Ivan Ilji膷a i Eme Bovari.
6.1) Pijavice kao metod le膷enja na glavi su jezive. (316)
7) Scena sa 艩arlisom na samom kraju je u svojoj kitnjastostosti koliko sakrivaju膰 toliko i razodevaju膰. 膶uperak prosede kose, monokl, rever sa crvenim cvetom (255).
8) Zola je "Homer 膽ubri拧ta". (473)
9) Kod Germantovih se nakon ve膷ere uvek slu啪ila oran啪ada. (487)
Dobro. Mo啪da bih se mogao izvu膰i spiskom. Kratkim, za orijentaciju i dugo se膰anje:
1) Fransoaza definitivno slu啪i za smeh i razonodu. Humor u poku拧ajima dramati膷nosti uvek veseli. Posluga je du拧a doma膰instva.
2) "(...) 褌械 褋邪屑 褋褏胁邪褌懈芯 写邪 褋械 薪械 褉邪蟹谢懈泻褍褬械 褋邪屑芯 褎懈蟹懈褔泻懈 褋胁械褌 芯写 懈蟹谐谢械写邪 褍 泻芯褬械屑 谐邪 屑懈 胁懈写懈屑芯 薪械谐芯 写邪 褬械 褋胁邪泻邪 褋褌胁邪褉薪芯褋褌 屑芯卸写邪 懈褋褌芯 褌芯谢懈泻芯 写褉褍谐邪褔懈褬邪 芯写 芯薪械 泻邪泻胁褍 胁械褉褍褬械屑芯 写邪 薪械锌芯褋褉械写薪芯 芯锌邪卸邪屑芯, 邪 泻芯褬褍 褋泻谢邪锌邪屑芯 锌芯屑芯褯褍 锌褉械写褋褌邪胁邪 泻芯褬械 褋械 薪械 锌芯泻邪蟹褍褬褍, 邪谢懈 写械褬褋褌胁褍褬褍. 泻邪芯谐芯写 褕褌芯 薪懈 写褉胁械褯械, 褋褍薪褑械 懈 薪械斜芯 薪械 斜懈 斜懈谢懈 芯薪邪泻胁懈 泻邪泻胁械 懈褏 屑懈 胁懈写懈屑芯 泻邪写 斜懈 懈褏 褋锌芯蟹薪邪胁邪谢邪 斜懈褯邪 泻芯褬懈屑邪 斜懈 芯褔懈 斜懈谢械 写褉褍泻褔懈褬械 褋邪蟹写邪薪械 薪械谐芯 薪邪褕械 懈谢懈 斜懈 锌邪泻 懈屑邪谢邪 蟹邪 褌芯 薪械泻邪泻胁械 写褉褍谐械 芯褉谐邪薪械, 邪 薪械 芯褔懈, 泻芯褬懈 斜懈 懈屑 芯 写褉胁械褯褍, 薪械斜褍 懈 褋褍薪褑褍 锌褉褍卸邪谢懈 薪械泻械 芯写谐芯胁邪褉邪褬褍褯械, 邪谢懈 薪械 胁懈写薪械 芯锌邪卸邪褬械." (61)
3) Sastanak sa Sen-Luom u hotelu i prolazak kroz dvori拧te, pored u啪arenih kuhinja. (89)
4) Nikad ne treba potceniti podsticajnost Drajfusove afere za rasplamsavanje govorkanja i svih onih doga膽aja o kojima ve膰ina ljudi, zapravo, pojma nema, a imaju neodoljivu potrebu da ne拧to izjave.
5) Sen-Lu je mutan lik, kao i njegova (biv拧a) Rahela. Pogledati kako se ophodi sa pripoveda膷em i kakav to 'elementarni oganj' prepoznaje (95).
6) Prikaz smrti bake je apsolutno remek-delo. Pogledati smrti Ivan Ilji膷a i Eme Bovari.
6.1) Pijavice kao metod le膷enja na glavi su jezive. (316)
7) Scena sa 艩arlisom na samom kraju je u svojoj kitnjastostosti koliko sakrivaju膰 toliko i razodevaju膰. 膶uperak prosede kose, monokl, rever sa crvenim cvetom (255).
8) Zola je "Homer 膽ubri拧ta". (473)
9) Kod Germantovih se nakon ve膷ere uvek slu啪ila oran啪ada. (487)
June 13, 2010
After being a little disappointed in the second volume of Proust, this one returns to the absolute wonderfulness of Swanns Way. I noticed that another reviewer commented on the addictive quality of Proust and I have to agree. A few weeks ago when I started Swanns Way I figured I'd read one of his books, and then maybe next summer go into the next one and leisurely through the remaining years of my thirties read one Proust book a year and enter into my forties being able to say that I'd read Proust. Instead though as soon as I finish one of his books I want to immediately begin the next.
Thinking about this book and if I was asked to tell someone 'what it was about', a question I've been asked by three people while reading this book. One of them, a security guard at work,and one someone in one of my library classes and the third a person in the park who none of the characters of this book would ever associate with. Each time I told them it was about France around the turn of the century. Each in turn told me they were sorry and it didn't sound interesting, I should note that not one of the people knew who Proust was, a fact that left me a little baffled (I mean what's the point of reading the highest of high brow literature if you can't 'wow' people with your reading material, is there really another reason to be reading this stuff? Isn't one expecting to be seen reading something like Proust or Joyce and then be invited to some wonderful soir茅e, filled with fashionable and witty people and live out your own little Proust fantasy?).
When I think really what this book is about the answer is almost worse then saying it's about France to people who never heard of the author. Instead it's about a couple of parties, and a little bit of stuff that happens before them. Of course the characters and description given to these couple of parties is so fucking good you might find yourself cursing Proust a little bit when he switches gears and goes back into his internalized bits, but after a few pages of inner monologue I always found myself in following the words with a rapt attention.
Now on to Cities of the Plain.
Thinking about this book and if I was asked to tell someone 'what it was about', a question I've been asked by three people while reading this book. One of them, a security guard at work,and one someone in one of my library classes and the third a person in the park who none of the characters of this book would ever associate with. Each time I told them it was about France around the turn of the century. Each in turn told me they were sorry and it didn't sound interesting, I should note that not one of the people knew who Proust was, a fact that left me a little baffled (I mean what's the point of reading the highest of high brow literature if you can't 'wow' people with your reading material, is there really another reason to be reading this stuff? Isn't one expecting to be seen reading something like Proust or Joyce and then be invited to some wonderful soir茅e, filled with fashionable and witty people and live out your own little Proust fantasy?).
When I think really what this book is about the answer is almost worse then saying it's about France to people who never heard of the author. Instead it's about a couple of parties, and a little bit of stuff that happens before them. Of course the characters and description given to these couple of parties is so fucking good you might find yourself cursing Proust a little bit when he switches gears and goes back into his internalized bits, but after a few pages of inner monologue I always found myself in following the words with a rapt attention.
Now on to Cities of the Plain.
August 9, 2018
亘賴 賳丕賲 丕賵
亘丿蹖賳 诏賵賳賴 丕卮乇丕賮蹖鬲 亘丕 爻丕禺鬲丕乇 爻賳诏蹖賳卮貙 讴賴 鬲賳賴丕 鬲讴 賵 鬲賵讴 倬賳噩乇賴鈥屫й� 丿丕乇丿 讴賴 丕夭 丌賳賴丕 丕賳丿讴 賳賵乇蹖 亘賴 丿乇賵賳 亘鬲丕亘丿貙 亘丕 賴賲丕賳 亘蹖鈥屫ㄙ囏壁� 丕夭 亘賱賳丿 倬乇賵丕夭蹖 丕賲丕 亘丕 賴賲丕賳 氐賱丕亘鬲 爻鬲亘乇 賵 讴賵乇 賲毓賲丕乇蹖 乇賲丕賳鬲蹖讴貙 賴賲賴 鬲丕乇蹖禺 乇丕 丿乇 禺賵丿 亘賴 亘賳丿 賲蹖鈥屭┴簇� 丨亘爻 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 賲蹖鈥屭嗀辟堏┴з嗀�
鬲賲丕賲 賴丿賮 賵 賳鬲蹖噩賴 诏蹖乇蹖 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 噩賱丿 爻賵賲 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 丕夭 丿爻鬲 倬乇賵爻鬲 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿賵 爻賴 禺胤 亘丕賱丕 禺賱丕氐賴 賲蹖卮賵丿. 倬乇賵爻鬲 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 亘丕 賴賳乇賲賳丿蹖 鬲賲丕賲 賮囟丕蹖 爻賳诏蹖賳 賵 乇禺賵鬲 丌賱賵丿 丕卮乇丕賮蹖 賮乇丕賳爻賴 乇丕 亘賴 鬲氐賵蹖乇 賲蹖 讴卮丿 賵 賲賱丕賱蹖 讴賴 爻丕賱賴丕 禺賵丿 丿乇 夭賳丿诏蹖 卮禺氐蹖卮 鬲噩乇亘賴 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲 乇丕 亘賴 賲禺丕胤亘 賲賳鬲賯賱 賲蹖 讴賳丿. 倬乇賵爻鬲 鬲丕 倬蹖卮 丕夭 丕賳夭賵丕蹖 禺賵丿禺賵丕爻鬲賴 丿乇 爻丕賱賴丕蹖 丌禺乇 毓賲乇卮貙 賴賲丕賳賳丿 乇丕賵蹖 丕賵賯丕鬲卮 乇丕 丿乇 賲丨丕賮賱 賵 賲賴賲丕賳蹖 賴丕蹖 丕卮乇丕賮蹖 賲蹖诏匕乇丕賳丿賴 丕爻鬲 賵 讴丕賲賱丕 亘丕 賮囟丕 賵 丕賮乇丕丿 丕蹖賳 胤亘賯賴 丌卮賳丕爻鬲 賵 亘賴 賴賲蹖賳 丿賱蹖賱 卮禺氐蹖鬲賴丕蹖 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵... 丕蹖賳賯丿乇 亘丕賵乇倬匕蹖乇賳丿. 賳讴鬲賴 丿蹖诏乇蹖 讴賴 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕乇賲 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 亘诏賵蹖賲 賮氐賱 讴賵鬲丕賴蹖 爻鬲 讴賴 乇丕賵蹖 亘賴 鬲賵氐蹖賮 趩诏賵賳诏蹖 賲乇诏 賲丕丿乇亘夭乇诏 賲蹖 倬乇丿丕夭丿 氐丨賳賴 丕蹖 讴賴 亘丿賵賳 丕睾乇丕賯 卮丕賴讴丕乇 丕爻鬲
亘丿蹖賳 诏賵賳賴 丕卮乇丕賮蹖鬲 亘丕 爻丕禺鬲丕乇 爻賳诏蹖賳卮貙 讴賴 鬲賳賴丕 鬲讴 賵 鬲賵讴 倬賳噩乇賴鈥屫й� 丿丕乇丿 讴賴 丕夭 丌賳賴丕 丕賳丿讴 賳賵乇蹖 亘賴 丿乇賵賳 亘鬲丕亘丿貙 亘丕 賴賲丕賳 亘蹖鈥屫ㄙ囏壁� 丕夭 亘賱賳丿 倬乇賵丕夭蹖 丕賲丕 亘丕 賴賲丕賳 氐賱丕亘鬲 爻鬲亘乇 賵 讴賵乇 賲毓賲丕乇蹖 乇賲丕賳鬲蹖讴貙 賴賲賴 鬲丕乇蹖禺 乇丕 丿乇 禺賵丿 亘賴 亘賳丿 賲蹖鈥屭┴簇� 丨亘爻 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 賲蹖鈥屭嗀辟堏┴з嗀�
鬲賲丕賲 賴丿賮 賵 賳鬲蹖噩賴 诏蹖乇蹖 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 噩賱丿 爻賵賲 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵蹖 夭賲丕賳 丕夭 丿爻鬲 倬乇賵爻鬲 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿賵 爻賴 禺胤 亘丕賱丕 禺賱丕氐賴 賲蹖卮賵丿. 倬乇賵爻鬲 丿乇 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 亘丕 賴賳乇賲賳丿蹖 鬲賲丕賲 賮囟丕蹖 爻賳诏蹖賳 賵 乇禺賵鬲 丌賱賵丿 丕卮乇丕賮蹖 賮乇丕賳爻賴 乇丕 亘賴 鬲氐賵蹖乇 賲蹖 讴卮丿 賵 賲賱丕賱蹖 讴賴 爻丕賱賴丕 禺賵丿 丿乇 夭賳丿诏蹖 卮禺氐蹖卮 鬲噩乇亘賴 讴乇丿賴 丕爻鬲 乇丕 亘賴 賲禺丕胤亘 賲賳鬲賯賱 賲蹖 讴賳丿. 倬乇賵爻鬲 鬲丕 倬蹖卮 丕夭 丕賳夭賵丕蹖 禺賵丿禺賵丕爻鬲賴 丿乇 爻丕賱賴丕蹖 丌禺乇 毓賲乇卮貙 賴賲丕賳賳丿 乇丕賵蹖 丕賵賯丕鬲卮 乇丕 丿乇 賲丨丕賮賱 賵 賲賴賲丕賳蹖 賴丕蹖 丕卮乇丕賮蹖 賲蹖诏匕乇丕賳丿賴 丕爻鬲 賵 讴丕賲賱丕 亘丕 賮囟丕 賵 丕賮乇丕丿 丕蹖賳 胤亘賯賴 丌卮賳丕爻鬲 賵 亘賴 賴賲蹖賳 丿賱蹖賱 卮禺氐蹖鬲賴丕蹖 丿乇 噩爻鬲噩賵... 丕蹖賳賯丿乇 亘丕賵乇倬匕蹖乇賳丿. 賳讴鬲賴 丿蹖诏乇蹖 讴賴 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕乇賲 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 胤乇賮 诏乇賲丕賳鬲 亘诏賵蹖賲 賮氐賱 讴賵鬲丕賴蹖 爻鬲 讴賴 乇丕賵蹖 亘賴 鬲賵氐蹖賮 趩诏賵賳诏蹖 賲乇诏 賲丕丿乇亘夭乇诏 賲蹖 倬乇丿丕夭丿 氐丨賳賴 丕蹖 讴賴 亘丿賵賳 丕睾乇丕賯 卮丕賴讴丕乇 丕爻鬲
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