Through Sunday, 27 Oct.: The Fugitive

[Elizabeth]

Eugene: Insightful comment...have you read/studied/seen Othello? (The film with Laurence Fishbourne; Kenneth Branagh as Iago, one of his greatest performances ever). An amazing study of jealousy. So...Proust is saying: we cannot love until we have lost...one could carry this on...we cannot live until we have accepted the fact that we must die (or until we actually die, depending on your religious views)...and now I'm thinking of the passage(s) in One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich where Ivan is living on garbage and not much of it, in a Stalinist slave labor camp...and he thinks of how he used to guzzle and gulp down food on the collective farm...and how wrong that was...he thinks this as he savors the thin soup a litte, a little at a time.

[Kalliope]

Book Portrait wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "TRANSCRIPTION OF THE INTERVIEW. Link posted by Fionnuala above in #45."


Here's a l..."

Thank you BP. Now I can get to it.. I tried a couple of times.

[Eugene]

@Elizabeth

Thank you. My library is mostly nonfiction; I'm incredibly ignorant of fiction. This Goodreads journey is like a pilgrimage for me and I look forward to it being over--I say this to the "habit" that reading Proust daily has become--I won't know what I've learned until it's gone when I'll be in happiness or torment, missing it or not, and probably both sweet Albertine.

[Elizabeth]

Eugene: try Ivan. The only short (149 p) Russian novel ever written.
Oops. Getting light enough to feed the chickens.
More about Solzhenitsyn, later if you're interested. (Including the parental objections to it, during which my principal backed me to the teeth. Which is rarer than you'd think). (The backing, not the objections).

[Ce Ce]

Kalliope wrote: "I have not finished the reading yet (almost) but this whole extract could be taken out and compared with the long passage on the death of the grandmother.

This one seems more directed towards hi..."

Still trying to catch my breath that the Narrator has sent Aime as a private eye after Albertine's death. Laughed at Marcus' statement about the PI sleeping with the star witness. Paving the way for the "detective" to elucidate with even more candor not to mention enthusiasm. It was a light, nearly soap opera, relief in an otherwise difficult self analysis.

I, too, found this section quite absorbed with self...I had to re-read much of it. I had not thought of comparing this with the passage following his grandmother's death. I think I will read on and come back to compare when I am finished with the year. Thank you for that Kalliope.

[Book Portrait]

Marcelita wrote: "...But the transition from white hawthorn to pink thorn (note the progression of colours: the Sonata is white, the Septet will be red)...." p 82

Proust as Musician
By Jean-Jacques Nattiez"

Thank you Marcelita! I had missed that, racing through the last two volumes to catch up with the group. I'll have to look at the Nattiez book. Un de plus pour 2014. :)

[Book Portrait]

I'm just rereading the last few pages of this section (Aimé's letters and the Narrator's waning but resilient jealousy...) before moving on to the next.

Aimé's language to describe la petite blanchisseuse playing with Albertine in the Loire river struck me as particularly vivid and erotically charged:

Alors elle m'a raconté que Mlle Albertine la rencontrait souvent au bord de la Loire, quand elle allait se baigner; que Mlle Albertine, qui avait l'habitude de se lever de grand matin pour aller se baigner, avait l'habitude de la retrouver au bord de l'eau, à un endroit où les arbres sont si épais que personne ne peut vous voir, et d'ailleurs il n'y a personne qui peut vous voir à cette heure-là. Puis la blanchisseuse amenait ses petites amies et elles se baignaient et après, comme il faisait très chaud déjà là-bas et que ça tapait dur même sous les arbres, elles restaient dans l'herbe à se sécher, à jouer, à se caresser. La petite blanchisseuse m'a avoué qu'elle aimait beaucoup à s'amuser avec ses petites amies, et que voyant Mlle Albertine qui se frottait toujours contre elle dans son peignoir, elle le lui avait fait enlever et lui faisait des caresses avec sa langue le long du cou et des bras, même sur la plante des pieds que Mlle Albertine lui tendait. p184

This reminds me of the Montjouvain scene (Mlle Vinteuil & her friend) or the one with Charlus & Jupien and caries more "raunchiness" than any catleya scene between Odette & Swann. It might be because the above is Aimé's direct, less architectured language than that of the narrator.

Aimé's description also reminded of the theme of voyeurism which runs through the novel (not least with the narrator's keen observation skills displayed in the social satire...) in the way he draws the picture(the girls hidden by the thick trees and observed from the outside...).

And it was doubled by the "voyeurism" of the narrator reading Aimé's letters and picturing the scene in his mind (numerous references to the "images" he could literaly "see" ("voyeur" stems from "voir", see) from reading Aimé's reports in the preceding pages).

[Book Portrait]

Jocelyne wrote: "Yes, Marcus, the narrator's willingness to lay bare and fully expose his shadowy side renders him more human and elicits our sympathy, I think. I may have felt differently, though, I believe, if the novel had been told in the third person. This feels more like a confession to me, and since the narrator so candidly trusts us with these less than admirable aspects of his personality, I almost feel compelled to respond to it with openness and understanding, rather than repulsion. "

Excatly my thoughts. Couldn't have put it better! :)

[Book Portrait]

Ce Ce wrote: "Still trying to catch my breath that the Narrator has sent Aime as a private eye after Albertine's death. Laughed at Marcus' statement about the PI sleeping with the star witness..."

Yay, you're caught up with the group! :)

I wonder if we'll ever find out who "la dame en gris" is. In a typical novel, I'd say this is a major plot point but with Proust, not so much. He casually mentions a woman proposed to him (???) but immediately goes back to what interests him the most: musing on his internal landscape. :)

[Book Portrait]

The GR edition notes that mentions of "Nice" probably suggest that this part was written around the time Agostinelli left Proust and fled to the South of France (to his family in Nice) in late 1913.

I find the history of the assemblage of Proust's text endlessly fascinating.

ETA: As we know Proust couldn't finish editing this volume and "Nice" was not replaced everywhere with la Touraine, which is where Mme Bontemps' villa is and where Albertine fled.

[Book Portrait]

I have to share one of my favorite sentences in this part:

Même, quand peu à peu Albertine cessa d'être présente à ma pensée et toute-puissante sur mon coeur, je souffrais tout d'un coup s'il me fallait, comme au temps où elle était là, entrer dans sa chambre, chercher de la lumière, m'asseoir près du pianola. Divisée en petits dieux familiers, elle habita longtemps la flamme de la bougie, le bouton de la porte, le dossier d'une chaise; et d'autres domaines plus immatériels, comme une nuit d'insomnie ou l'émoi que me donnait la première visite d'une femme qui m'avait plu.

And now onto the next section. :)

[Kalliope]

Book Portrait wrote: "The GR edition notes that mentions of "Nice" probably suggest that this part was written around the time Agostinelli left Proust and fled to the South of France (to his family in Nice) in late 1913..."

Nice also figured in the Odette section in the first volume... An episode in her "dark" past.


Il se disait: «Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire qu'à Nice tout le monde sache qui est Odette de Crécy? Ces réputations-là, même vraies, sont faites avec les idées des autres»

[Kalliope]

Book Portrait wrote: "I'm just rereading the last few pages of this section (Aimé's letters and the Narrator's waning but resilient jealousy...) before moving on to the next.

Aimé's language to describe la petite blanc..."

Very true about the voyeur theme being a constant one.. In fact we often do not understand how the Narrator knows somethings..

With the Swann episode there was a fair amount of the dicussion centered on this.. My feeling is that it was Charlus who later told him all the details of Swann and Odette.. but this has been only hinted at...

And yes, the Aimé letter is voyeurism twice removed...

Proust was a voyeur in the "maisons de passe".

[Marcelita]

Book Portrait wrote: "I have to share one of my favorite sentences in this part:

Même, quand peu à peu Albertine cessa d'être présente à ma pensée et toute-puissante sur mon coeur, je souffrais tout d'un coup s'il me f..."

Yes, and I hear faint refrains of the Celtic beliefs...and see faded images from the Combray bedroom-the candle, the magic lantern-door handle.

"Even when she gradually ceased to be present in my thoughts and all-powerful over my heart, I felt a sudden pang if I had occasion, as in the time when she was there, to go into her room, to grope for the light, to sit down by the pianola.

"Divided into a number of little household gods, she dwelt for a long time in the flame of the candle, the doorknob, the back of a chair, and other domains more immaterial such as a night of insomnia or the emotion that was caused me by the first visit of a woman who had attracted me." MP

[Book Portrait]

Kalliope wrote: "Nice also figured in the Odette section in the first volume... An episode in her "dark" past."

Yes I remember the rumours about Odette's scandalous past that so troubled poor Swann, in a manner prefiguring the Narrator with Albertine.

But with Albertine and the half-edited Touraine/Nice confusion, it naturally brings forth the similarities between the novel and Proust's real life.

Had he had the time to finish his creative process, Proust would have surely removed all the Nice references.

"Ces réputations-là, même vraies, sont faites avec les idées des autres" is a wonderful sentence.

Another sentence I really liked is at the end of this section, when the Narrator realises that so much resides inside of him:

Si Albertine aimait les plaisirs qu'une femme prend avec les femmes, si c'est pour n'être pas plus longtemps privée d'eux qu'elle m'avait quitté, elle avait dû, aussitôt libre, essayer de s'y livrer et y réussir, dans un pays qu'elle connaissait et où elle n'aurait pas choisi de se retirer si elle n'avait pas pensé y trouver plus de facilités que chez moi. Sans doute, il n'y avait rien d'extraordinaire à ce que la mort d'Albertine eût si peu changé mes préoccupations. Quand notre maîtresse est vivante, une grande partie des pensées qui forment ce que nous appelons notre amour nous viennent pendant les heures où elle n'est pas à côté de nous. Ainsi l'on prend l'habitude d'avoir pour objet de sa rêverie un être absent, et qui, même s'il ne le reste que quelques heures, pendant ces heures-là n'est qu'un souvenir. Aussi la mort ne change-t-elle pas grand'chose. Quand Aimé revint, je lui demandai de partir pour Châtellerault, et ainsi non seulement par mes pensées, mes tristesses, l'émoi que me donnait un nom relié, de si loin que ce fût, à un certain être, mais encore par toutes mes actions, par les enquêtes auxquelles je procédais, par l'emploi que je faisais de mon argent, tout entier destiné à connaître les actions d'Albertine, je peux dire que toute cette année-là ma vie resta remplie par un amour, par une véritable liaison. Et celle qui en était l'objet était une morte. On dit quelquefois qu'il peut subsister quelque chose d'un être après sa mort si cet être était un artiste et mettait un peu de soin dans son oeuvre. C'est peut-être de la même manière qu'une sorte de bouture prélevée sur un être, et greffée au coeur d'un autre, continue à y poursuivre sa vie, même quand l'être d'où elle avait été détachée a péri. p183

I love this idea of the memory of someone being a "bouture" ("cutting" in English?), which unsuprisingly belongs to the semantic field of nature.

I'd bold the whole thing and comment further but you've probably already remarked on a lot of this and I'm losing track of what has already been said in this thread. :)

[Book Portrait]

Kalliope wrote: "Proust was a voyeur in the "maisons de passe"."

Yes I remember some details of Proust's sexuality mentioned by Edmund White in his Marcel Proust: in particular that the Montjouvain scene with the voyeurism and the desecration of the father's portrait was not unlike Proust's own inclination (IIRC).

Hard to know what's gossip and what's "fact" but still interesting to get some perspective on that aspect of the novel. Of course it doesn't change how we read the novel or enlighten us beyond the obvious.

[Book Portrait]

Kalliope wrote: "In fact we often do not understand how the Narrator knows somethings. With the Swann episode there was a fair amount of the dicussion centered on this.. My feeling is that it was Charlus who later told him all the details of Swann and Odette.. but this has been only hinted at..."

Yes I never thought the narrative expedient to explain the insertion of Un Amour de Swann in the novel was very successful but outside of that novel-in-a-novel exception I usually have no trouble believing the Narrator observed the situations he describes himself.

Proust's narrative technique is fascinating, first of all for his play with time: we not always know if it's the younger Narrator in the scene or the older one commenting on it that is talking. And the long scenes (les diners mondains de Guermantes and S&G!) have an "iterative value" (Proust describes one fully but not the full chronology of all the diners)... I'm thinking of this because I'm reading Pierre Bayard's Le hors-sujet: Proust et la digression. Hopefully it's not all nonsense in the way I explain it! lol

[Book Portrait]

Marcelita wrote: " hear faint refrains of the Celtic beliefs...and see faded images from the Combray bedroom-the candle, the magic lantern-door handle."

YES!!! Very good point. :)

[Ce Ce]

Book Portrait wrote: "Aimé's description also reminded of the theme of voyeurism which runs through the novel (not least with the narrator's keen observation skills displayed in the social satire...) in the way he draws the picture(the girls hidden by the thick trees and observed from the outside...). "

I had not attached the word "voyeur" to his spying/sleuthing on Albertine after death. Just as in the Charlus & Jupien sexual encounter he is not just catching sight...but actively pursuing a better view. It makes us, the reader, complicit.

Although I think his enthusiastic participatory detective may have reported even more salaciously than the Narrator anticipated.

If this is a morality play, "be careful what you wish for" came to mind.

[Ce Ce]

Marcelita wrote: "Yes, and I hear faint refrains of the Celtic beliefs...and see faded images from the Combray bedroom-the candle, the magic lantern-door handle.

"Even when she gradually ceased to be present in my thoughts and all-powerful over my heart, I felt a sudden pang if I had occasion, as in the time when she was there, to go into her room, to grope for the light, to sit down by the pianola.

"Divided into a number of little household gods, she dwelt for a long time in the flame of the candle, the doorknob, the back of a chair, and other domains more immaterial such as a night of insomnia or the emotion that was caused me by the first visit of a woman who had attracted me." MP
"

Marcelita, for me these were some of the most moving words in this section...and evoked the exquisite truth of loss & mourning...after the initial other worldly raw yawning shocking grief. Mourning is a song...with echoes in the atmosphere. The emptiness. The quiet. The ghost. The memory in everything touched, shared and lost. Eventually the pang of moving on...our life continuing...and beginning to find once again joy in living.

[Ce Ce]

Eugene wrote: "This Goodreads journey is like a pilgrimage for me and I look forward to it being over--I say this to the..."

Dear Eugene, this made me smile. Like the Narrator I fear you will unexpectedly feel deeply the loss of all of what has come to feel a burdensome habit not to mention all of us, the many Albertines...and sometime in late January we will find an army of Aime's sleuthing after us.

I would like to read your post Year of Reading Proust on January 31st! Allowing you to get past the first little wave of relief. ;-)

[Ce Ce]

Marcus wrote: "Marcus wrote: "Back on the Proust wagon after a couple of weeks off it, feeling exasperated and disgruntled by his younger narrator creation, a monster of manipulation. Thanks again to the regular..."

Jocelyne wrote "Yes, Marcus, the narrator's willingness to lay bare and fully expose his shadowy side renders him more human and elicits our sympathy, I think. I may have felt differently, though, I believe, if the novel had been told in the third person. This feels more like a confession to me, and since the narrator so candidly trusts us with these less than admirable aspects of his personality, I almost feel compelled to respond to it with openness and understanding, rather than repulsion."

Thank you to Marcus & Jocelyne. Your perspective is helpful to, as Marcus puts it, keep me afloat. The narrator can truly send me around the bend.

While I don't feel repulsed...I feel impatient and annoyed...uncomfortable...and for some time now I have understood there is obviously a method to his madness as we contemplate and search for lost time.

But sometimes wending my way through pages and pages of discomfort tests me.

[Ce Ce]

In this section the Narrator speaks about not recalling Albertine's features clearly...forgetting.

This afternoon I was drawing a model I have drawn before. In this case I drew him probably a year and a half or two years ago. I became conscious how much more familiar...relaxed...free I am with a model I have drawn even only once before (always over a 3 hour period). I am not speaking of psychologically or physically comfortable. Only twice have I felt discomfort in that manner. But rather an ease of rendering or drawing that draws on what is before me informed by memory.

I started reflecting on memory. I would not be able to bring a model clearly to mind if I were to simply think of them...but there is stored information readily accessible when I am in their presence once again.

I found myself wondering how "forgetting" serves us...and yet we have not erased information. I then started pondering how much more fluid my drawing was of another model I truly struggled with when I first encountered her...I've now drawn her 3 times and draw on current vision and past reference...an entirely different experience Over and over it has held true.

Forgetting features in life as well as more profoundly in moving through grief & mourning and terrible loss...must be a helpful, if a distressing in the case of a loss of a loved one, protective event.

Does anyone know if there is a study or philosophy about this?