Swann's Way - Remembrance of Things Past (À la recherche du temps perdu) - Book 1

I listened to an audiobook of Swann's Way. It was over seventeen hours. Like my writing teacher said yesterday when I told her I was listening to an audiobook of Swann's Way, it's the perfect classic to listen to (unless, she added, you are going to be tested on it), as it goes on and on with details that are superfluous to the story.

There are really two parts to the book. The first part is the story of the narrator as a child, and I have to say that I much preferred this part of the book. The narrator tells stories of his childhood, his deep fears, his need for his mother, his peculiar aunt, and each story is filled with rich and sensual details. The second part is the story of Swann, a friend of the child's parents, and Swann's obsession with Odette. Swann only grew to be intrigued with Odette after he realized she did not care for him, and that seemed oddly true. Nevertheless, I quickly grew tired of both Swann and Odette; I kept hoping the story would return to the child, but it never did.

Will I read on? After all, there are apparently six more volumes. I don't know. Maybe. There is an allure to this writing.

I cannot bring myself to rate this book.

It's like a saying I read somewhere - Proust is for life - which I think I'm able to understand now. The term “Proustian” had such an enigmatic character to itself for me, much like the word “Kafkaesque” would be for people who haven't read Kafka, that the more and more I encountered it, more and more I became intrigued and perhaps a bit afraid as well of getting disillusioned when I finally do make its acquaintance. There were a lot of moments in the book where I questioned why exactly was I reading it, followed by an intense love for the sheer pages in front of me, and sometimes ending with an indifference to an entire chapter. This ebb and flow of emotions continued throughout the book, and I'm afraid in the end, it still remains an enigma for me.

Proust cannot be conquered. Although if someone has come close to doing it, it would be this guy.

I dream of the day when I would be able to read it the way it was written - and the way it was meant to be read - in its original French. Until then, I'd have to live with the pain of losing things in translation and be content with it.

“Facts do not find their way into the world in which our beliefs reside; they did not produce our beliefs, they do not destroy them; they may inflict on them the most constant refutations without weakening them, and an avalanche of afflictions or ailments succeeding one another without interruption in a family will not make it doubt the goodness of its God or the talent of its doctor.” p. 151

“And helped me better understand what a contradiction it is to search in reality for memory's pictures, which would never have the charm that comes to them from memory itself and from not being perceived by the senses.” p. 444