Well, it's not as good as "Swann's Way," but better than "In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower." Comparing them is kind of ridiculous, though, since Proust is one of the best writers I've ever read. Here's an Emily Dickinson poem:

A Thought went up my mind today -
That I have had before -
But did not finish - some way back -
I could not fix the Year -

Nor where it went - nor why it came
The second time to me -
Nor definitely, what it was -
Have I the Art to say -

But somewhere - in my Soul - I know -
I've met the Thing before -
It just reminded me - 'twas all -
And came my way no more -

You can hardly read five pages of Proust without coming across one of these Thoughts--a thought that seems to have grazed a life, or many lives, without ever coming to full fruition, until now. Or a lengthy character sketch so full of unexpected turns and contradictions that you finish quite aware that people are impossible to sum up or boil down. Or incredibly precise social satire. Or writing that's highly erotic, though you can't quite figure out why.

It's amazing stuff, and three volumes in I'm finally starting to figure out who all the characters are.