Jonathan’s Comments (group member since Oct 24, 2013)

Jonathan’s comments from the Reading Proust's In Search of Lost Time in 2014 group.

Dave wrote: "On the naivety, I'm thinking specifically of his relations with women. Gilbert, Odette, Albertine, the Duchess, Mme. Stermaria - each in turn idolized, obsessed over, and then grows bored with (so..."

Renato & Dave: I can't really add much to the naivety of the narrator, but I would say that, for me, he's emotionally like a child. Although he's intellectually astute, as soon as his emotions kick in he's like a five year old. He wants what the other kid has and as soon as he's got it he's not interested and throws a tantrum.

He analyses every facial tick and expression of people at a party and can discuss how these are interpreted by those involved but he can't understand that stalking someone does not actually endear him to them.

He loves his grandmother obsessively, but only really when he wants attention and affection. When she's no longer of use he's not really interested or concerned. Ditto with his friends.

Isn't he a sociopath? or something similar? Do I like him? No! Is he fascinating? Yes. I think it's the fact that he can come out with some amazingly refined, convoluted, perspicacious remark one minute and then make some astoundingly bad decision the next that makes it a fascinating read. Everyone has their blind spots, unfortunately.

Renato wrote: "Still on his talk to Albertine, she mentioned a duel in which he was involved? What??? ..."

I know, I thought the same. When the f*** did that happen? Presumably it wasn't 'pistols at dawn' as he wouldn't have been able to get up before midday. :-)

Sunny in Wonderland wrote: "Oh, lord! He's crying again. He's actually sobbing this time."

My favourite quote from this section came right at the end and was the sobbing part:

I began to sob. I shivered, not only because the room was cold, but because a distinct lowering of temperature...is brought about by a certain kind of tears which fall from our eyes, drop by drop, like a fine, penetrating, icy rain, and seem as though they will never cease to flow.

Poor old narrator; Albertine is now interested in him, Mme de Guermantes is falling over herself to get him to go to her dinner but he's not interested in them any more, he wants Mme Stermaria. Will he ever be satisfied?

Renato wrote: "Trying to put myself in de Charlus' shoes, I imagine I would only 'go for it' and make such an approach to another man when I was confident that he would be up for it. In your opinion, does he think - or, maybe, taking a few steps back, wonder if - the narrator might be gay?..."

I think Charlus just thinks that the narrator is innocent and that he can influence his development to his own ends - in other words, he's grooming him.

Dave wrote: "I go for the "quick fix" Renato. I read bio info on Proust, Drefus Affair and such on Wikipaedia. Sometimes I Google info. I did read Alan de Botton's book while reading Swann's Way. One of the most intriguing stories I came across was that, near the end of his life, Proust and James Joyce attended the same party and shared a cabride to their respective destinations..."

I read the Alain de Boton book as prep. I also read Embracing the Ordinary: Lessons From the Champions of Everyday Life which is in a similar vein. As it deals with Proust and Joyce and how they can be helpful in understanding everyday life he also mentions the meeting between them. He also compares their different feelings towards rats which was interesting.

I've got a copy of A Night At The Majestic which covers this dinner party - I'm hoping to read it next year.

Renato wrote: "I jumped into Proust innocently (as Marcelita likes to put it), so I really have no background on him at all. For instance, I didn't know he was Jewish and, as Dave highlighted, I automatically assumed he was a catholic because of Swann's Way. I read that he was either gay or bisexual, so I "

It's always difficult to know how much to find out about an author beforehand. Personally, I like to know a little about the author as I think it is usually helpful to understand their work. With Proust I knew bits and pieces - in fact it was because Proust kept popping up in my reading that I started to seriously consider reading ISOLT.

Many of my favourite authors wrote in a similar way, i.e. they wrote fictionlised versions of their own lives that are hard to distinguish from their real lives. Authors I'm thinking of are Henry Miller, Charles Bukowski, Louis-Ferdinand Céline, and less so, Kerouac and Thomas Wolfe.

As soon as you know info about the author's life it becomes increasingly difficult to separate the real life from the fictionalised account; but it becomes fascinating finding where they converge and diverge - I'm looking forward to finding out more about Proust's actual life as well, but I'm going to leave all major stuff until after I've read ISOLT.

As Dave mentioned, reading Wikipedia articles can give a useful level of info - enough to be useful but not too much that it ruins things.

Dave wrote: "After reading the section on grandmother's illness and treatment I felt the need to update my "instructions to physicians" that in case of debilitating illness NO LEECHES!" "

Ha! Ha! I agree. And, certainly no lobotomies please!

And Bergotte is dying also...everyone's dying.

With the narrator pondering his grandmother's illness and illness in general we get this great quote:

It 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.

I often feel at war with my body so can sympathise with this view.

He also mentions that medicine is a catalogue of mistakes and wrong-turnings and that 'to believe in medicine would be utter madness, were not to believe in it a greater madness still' - I don't think we've really moved on from that position after a hundred years. Medicine has improved, true, but we're never quite sure whether today's medicines will be banned tomorrow.

But in this little section I found the episode with Dr du Boulbon, who'd been recommended by Bergotte, particularly amusing. He's basically a crackpot who believes that all illnesses are psychosomatic. It's interesting that Boulbon, because he is introduced to the narrator's grandmother whilst she's ill and in bed, believes her to be a malingerer. But we know different - after all, she was the one who was always going on bracing walks in all weathers. Doctors must end up with a distorted view of humanity - we must appear to them as a constantly whingeing group of people.

I found the argument about Dreyfus, that the butlers were having, confusing at first as the narrator's butler (pro Dreyfus) is arguing with the Guermantes' butler (anti-Dreyfus) but the narrator's butler is arguing that Dreyfus is guilty and the Guermantes' butler that he was innocent. After re-reading this little section I think I'm correct that Proust was making the point that the Dreyfus Affair caused such a schism in French society that in the end people's arguments had little to do with the actual Affair but rather with which camp they were in. I could be totally wrong though. :-)

I think this week's reading was my favourite of this volume so far. The 'little chat' that the narrator has with Charlus is just brilliant...and ominous; especially this quote from Charlus:

Monsieur, there exists among a certain men a freemasonry which I can't describe to you now, but which numbers in its ranks four of the present sovereigns in Europe. Now, the entourage of one of them, the Emperor of Germany, is trying to cure him of his whims. This is a very serious matter and may lead to war.

I'm guessing that he's alluding to a sort of 'homosexual club'. This period seems to be a period of fears over secret organisations such as communist organisations, anarchists/terrorists/nihilists plotting against capitalism, Jews supposedly plotting against gentiles (see Protocols of the Elders of Zion). And at the same time there was the Decadent Movement...what crazy times!

I loved the little chat that Charlus has with the narrator; it's chaotic, abusive and random - and brilliant! I wonder if the narrator is intrigued by the plans that Charlus has for him? He can only be confused by Charlus' talk.

During this section I kept thinking of Charlus as Uncle Monty in the film Withnail & I.

Dave wrote: "At the same time I think we must be cautious about judging how Proust writes about homosexuality. This was a very different time with very different values. Proust himself was gay (or perhaps bi-sexual) as well as being Jewish. He writes disparingly of both...."

Good points Dave. Also, I suppose we have to be a bit careful here in distinguishing Proust from the narrator; I'm guessing that the narrator is neither Jewish nor homosexual.

I never realised the problems that they had with hats. Really! One would have thought that a uniformly accepted form of etiquette would have been agreed upon and instigated.

Renato wrote: "I don't remember exactly how it went on the book, but was there room for interpretation? Wasn't it always clear that it was Odette? ..."

I can't quite remember now but I think that it was highly likely that it was Odette but that could have been a red herring. It's nice to get it clarified though.

At last we get confirmation of the 'lady in pink'; though I think we'd all realised who it was.

Is it just me or does Charles Morel come across as a bit creepy, or even sinister?

Prince von Faffenheim-Munsterburg-Weinigen - that's a name to be reckoned with, isn't it? I imagined some scary fat Prussian militaristic monster but he turns out to be quite human and almost a match for Norpois' diplomatic convolutions.

I found the ongoing conversation between Bloch & Norpois about Dreyfus interesting; Bloch just can't pin him down to commit to a 'guilty' or 'not guilty' decision. Norpois is just too much of a politician, he just ends up rambling away, bludgeoning Bloch with his speech until the others join in with their anti-Semitic views forcing Bloch to leave, bewildered. Bloch just doesn't understand the etiquette of this aristocratic crowd. I like Bloch more as the novel goes on.

I hadn't realised before (not being able to speak or read French to any reasonable level) that 'loup' is French for 'wolf'! So Saint-Loup is Saint-Wolf?

The pun on St-Loup's name when he arrives is explained in the Penguin notes as 'quand on parle du loup' meaning 'talk of the devil'

A quick internet search finds the full quote as 'quand on parle du loup (on en voit la queue)' meaning 'when you speak of the wolf (you'll see his tail)'.

Shock! Horror! Proust does dialogue - big time.

I actually like these party/soiree/salon scenes with the multiple conversations and all the snobbery and bitching going on. I'm thinking back to Mme Swann's little get-togethers and the Verdurin's salon...all good fun! When I first came across Proust many years ago this is what I imagined the bulk of the book to be like.

Renato mentioned that the narrator seems absent for most of the conversations. He takes a back seat and is only occasionally drawn into the chatter. But this is ok as he's been talking about himself for the rest of the novel. :-)

Oh, but what's this? The narrator is already getting bored with Mme Guermantes! When she twitters on about The Seven Princesses he thinks 'what a bird-brained woman!...so this is the woman I walk miles to see every morning...' Ha! Ha!