The Year of Reading Proust discussion

This thread is for the discussion that will take place through Sunday, 14 Apr. of Within a Budding Grove, to page 582 (to the paragraph beginning: “I paced up and down the room...”)

Seascapes from la Belle Époque:




Biarritz, not Normandy, but it gives you an idea of what people looked like.

Beautiful pics, Richard. Thank you for sharing.

A couple of things so far this week which stuck out. The first (to me) has a slight parallel to the little madeline, if only in holding something up reverently, allowing memories and comparisons to flood through, before dipping it into the tea. In this case, it is the scene through the now-opened windows, the view of a tiny house that becomes a "holy relic" for a brief moment. Though this book is full these kinds of things, I liked this one particularly. Perhaps it is because I am also reading "Monsieur Proust" and can identify also with "locked-in" condition: Many of us would gladly leave the hotel and seek out this little treasure on the countryside, but alas the Narrator/Proust cannot.


I made a short ‘station’ in front of it, time enough just to pay my devotions to the view which for once it revealed over the hill against which the back of the hotel rested, a view that contained but a solitary house, planted in the middle distance, though the perspective and the evening light in which I saw it, while preserving its mass, gave it a sculptural beauty and a velvet background, as though to one of those architectural works in miniature, tiny temples or chapels wrought in gold and enamels, which serve as reliquaries and are exposed only on rare and solemn days for the veneration of the faithful. But this moment of adoration had already lasted too long, for the valet, who carried in one hand a bunch of keys and with the other saluted me by touching his verger’s skull-cap, though without raising it, on account of the pure, cool evening air, came and drew together, like those of a shrine, the two sides of the window, and so shut off the minute edifice, the glistening relic from my adoring gaze.


The second is personal.

This phrase: pictures; I forgot that below their coloured expanse was hollowed the sad desolation of the beach...

It takes me back along my own memories, when as a younger man I spent time on a North Sea island. There, the beauty and wonder of the sand and the sea were transformed into something denuded and dreadful. Ah, the trappings of youth, and the lengths with which we let our hearts run away with themselves.

Martin, isn't this the gift of Proust. His wonderful prose almost magically fill us with our own remembrances. One moment we are lost in his words, following along a lengthy passage and the next a memory appears, as if he willed it for us.

Richard wrote: "Seascapes from la Belle Époque:

Great photographs!





Biarritz, not Normandy, but it gives you an idea of what people looked like."

Martin wrote: "A couple of things so far this week which stuck out. The first (to me) has a slight parallel to the little madeline, if only in holding something up reverently, allowing memories and comparisons to..."


As Amelia says, isn't it the genius of Proust to stir something in us and dust off some old memories. For Martin, it is the sea, for me, the most powerful image is the image of the trees on the road to Balbec.
Oh, those trees, those 'phantoms of the past'! How they haunt me still. Those pages have grabbed me by the heart and won't let go. I feel that I too have "died to myself, have broken faith with the dead or repudiated a god" for not being able to grasp what they hide.

Dear Proustians, I have just come back from a wonderful concert with Olga Kern and Vladimir Spivakov playing, amongst other pieces, César Franck's Violin Sonata in A Major.

I thought of Proust.

Richard wrote: "Seascapes from la Belle Époque:

Biarritz, not Normandy, but it gives you an idea of what people looked like."

Beautiful photos. Thank you Richard. In the concert I mentioned above, they played also Ravel's Habanera. I associate Ravel with Biarritz.

Martin wrote: "A couple of things so far this week which stuck out...and quotes Proust:

"...and drew together, like those of a shrine, the two sides of the window, and so shut off the minute edifice, the glistening relic from my adoring gaze."

This begins a lyrical passage (ML p. 521-527) where the Narrator first sees a 'landscape' from an open window in the hallway of the hotel; then, in his room, he sees 'seascapes' framed by his window as if they were in a picture gallery.

I thought I'd look up Rivebelle and found this:

Dinners at Rivebelle: A Study in Proust's Search for the “Moi Profond” Modern Language Quarterly September 1963 24(3): 263-273; http://mlq.dukejournals.org/content/2...
There must be some major importance to eating dinner there.


While googling I also came across a mention of Mme de Sevigne's letters making mention that the love she had for her daughter "mirrors the same love that M.’s grandmother has for her daughter, his mother." ( not going to quote as there are spoilers.)

I like reading Proust because he believes that art necessarily has beauty in it; today that isn't so, ever since Duchamp's Fountain (1917) or Warhol's Brillo Boxes (1964) or whatever timeline you wish to honor concerning the banishment of beauty from art and there are several.

It's hard to make beautiful things or think beautiful thought that are creative, fresh and new. But that's what I want to see and hear and if they are few in number in the present I will find them the past.

But as often as not they were, indeed, only pictures (the seascapes, the landscape); I forgot that below their colored expanse lay the sad desolation of the beach, swept by the restless evening breeze whose breath I had so anxiously felt on my arrival at Balbec; besides, even in my room, being wholly taken up with thoughts of the girls I had seen go by, I was no longer in a sufficiently calm or disinterested state of mind to receive any really profound impression of beauty. ML p.524

Here Proust has the Narrator speak about "disinterest" (1 of 16 times in Within A Budding Grove) which tells me he's read Kant's Critique of Judgment" and subscribed to it. "...I was no longer in a sufficiently calm or disinterested state of mind to receive any really profound impression of beauty."

Eugene wrote: "I like reading Proust because he believes that art necessarily has beauty in it; today that isn't so, ever since Duchamp's Fountain (1917) or Warhol's Brillo Boxes (1964) or whatever timeline you w..."

I remember reading the words .."we desire, we seek, we see Beauty."

Kalliope wrote: "Dear Proustians, I have just come back from a wonderful concert with Olga Kern and Vladimir Spivakov playing, amongst other pieces, César Franck's Violin Sonata in A Major.

I thought of Proust."

Looking up the violinist from last night, Vladimir Spivakov, look what I found in his web page... His answer to Proust's questionnaire.

So, I was not the only one thinking of Proust last night when Spivakov was playing the Franck Sonata.

http://www.vladimirspivakov.com/spiva...

Kalliope wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "Dear Proustians, I have just come back from a wonderful concert with Olga Kern and Vladimir Spivakov playing, amongst other pieces, César Franck's Violin Sonata in A Major.

I thou..."

That was really interstinng. I always enjoy reading people's answers to the Proust questionnaire. He says," No, I work, when I am in a sealed off space – particular kinds of thoughts come through my head. " ----sounds like Proust's cork-lined room.

Jaye wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "Dear Proustians, I have just come back from a wonderful concert with Olga Kern and Vladimir Spivakov playing, amongst other pieces, César Franck's Violin Sonata in A Major.

I thou..."

If I could, I would...!!!

Richard wrote: "Seascapes from la Belle Époque:


Lovely!so melancholic!




Biarritz, not Normandy, but it gives you an idea of what people looked like."

Martin wrote: "A couple of things so far this week which stuck out. The first (to me) has a slight parallel to the little madeline, if only in holding something up reverently, allowing memories and comparisons to..."

...and you too,Amelia.I am finding that the same happens to me as I go along.Memories come back with a sweet melancholic air that in Brazil they call "saudades".I guess that is why my beloved literature teacher Beatriz-like Dante´s- told me many years ago,"Wait,there is a time for Proust in every life".

Patricia wrote: "Martin wrote: "Memories come back with a sweet melancholic air that in Brazil they call "saudades"."

That made me think first of Jobim's Chega de Saudade, and then Ravel's Valses nobles et sentimentales which was produced in the years between Swann's way and this volume.

I´ll add Ravel to my "music to read Proust with"
Jobim is wonderful.Maybe I can add him to this list.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ixYpS...

How different we all are. Here you all are waxing lyrical, feeling nostalgic, making free associations with music, with art, floating gently away on a cloud of Proustian meditative flow, and me? I'm just so glad to meet those athletic young women at last! Bursting with life and laughter!

ReemK10 (Got Proust?) wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "Dear Proustians, I have just come back from a wonderful concert with Olga Kern and Vladimir Spivakov playing, amongst other pieces, César Franck's Violin Sonata in..."

"I always enjoy reading people's answers to the Proust questionnaire."

For a lark...
http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/fea...

I've just listened to Joao Gilberto singing a saudade - I love Gilberto.

I'm still in the early pages of this week's reading, still standing open mouthed and staring at the amazingly modern array of youth and energy that has come hurtling down the promenade, scattering everyone from its path.
And I notice that, unlike on the bridge at Carqueville when he seeks to see himself reflected in a young girl's eye, the narrator is wiser now and seems to know that any reflection he will find there is only the 'ombre', the shadow of the girl's thoughts and experiences. This is the second time he has used the word 'ombre' in the space of a couple of pages; the band of girls was described as merging into a warm homogenous shadow, which was nevertheless differentiated from everything around it. Perhaps we are finally coming to understand what he means by A l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs.

As I said earlier in another discussion, I began to read ISOLT several years ago for Proust's style, particularly for his sentences which are mostly described, if I may sum them, as famous for being fearful: long, digressive, parenthetical, etc.

I'm sure that Proust's style is even more interesting in French as what we miss in the translations are his sonorities; but ISOLT in translation has been judged a masterwork too. I write in English, I'm selfish in this respect, consequently I began to look at Proust's style in translation to help me become a better reader and writer.

Let's look at what Proust does in this comparatively simple sentence of 87 words, quoted earlier,

But as often as not they were, indeed, only pictures; I forgot that below their colored expanse lay the sad desolation of the beach, swept by the restless evening breeze whose breath I had so anxiously felt on my arrival at Balbec; besides, even in my room, being wholly taken up with thoughts of the girls I had seen go by, I was no longer in a sufficiently calm or disinterested state of mind to receive any really profound impression of beauty. ML p.524

The context: the Narrator dresses himself for a dinner with Saint-Loup at Rivebelle.

Proust takes us from the Narrator's imagined, one might say impressioned, view of the sea and sky from the window in his hotel room that he'd just 'pictured' to the restless evening breeze on the sad beach that he'd felt when he'd arrived in Balbec to the band of girls that he'd seen on the front of the hotel that afternoon and states that because of his thoughts of the girls he was not "disinterested" and unable "to receive any really profound impression of beauty" bringing to my mind that the Narrator knew Kant's Critique of Judgement written in 1790.

But I found his descriptions of the "pictures" he saw beautiful and this contradiction brings Proust to the surface of the page--he is there--and that too in 87 words.

On an earlier post and whether the Narrator ever speaks in direct speech.

During his visit to Elstir's studio he quotes himself in inverted commas. He transcribes their dialogue.

Eugene wrote: "As I said earlier in another discussion, I began to read ISOLT several years ago for Proust's style, particularly for his sentences which are mostly described, if I may sum them, as famous for bein..."

Yes, I think also Jocelyne is reading it in English because the translation itself is interesting for those writing in English.

This section may be my favorite in this book, so far. This section and the very beginning of next week's.

Karen wrote: "How different we all are. Here you all are waxing lyrical, feeling nostalgic, making free associations with music, with art, floating gently away on a cloud of Proustian meditative flow, and me? I'..."

Yes, that energy and undistinct youth is so inspiring... (or envy of a foregone age...!!)

The imagery of this section, with all the jeunes filles as sea anemones is unforgettable.

Fionnuala wrote: "I've just listened to Joao Gilberto singing a saudade - I love Gilberto.

I'm still in the early pages of this week's reading, still standing open mouthed and staring at the amazingly modern array ..."

I think this is an excellent point. At the end of the volume we can discuss the uses of the word "ombre". I may be able to do a search later on today.

But from what I have noticed, the usage of the word is varied... it can be a warm shadow, or a cold shadow, or the hidden soul of a person... How many concepts can Proust handle with just one word?..

Kalliope wrote: "...But from what I have noticed, the usage of the word is varied... it can be a warm shadow, or a cold shadow, or the hidden soul of a person... How many concepts can Proust handle with just one word?"

Another reference to 'ombre': "...j'étais enfermé dans le présent, comme les héros, comme les ivrognes; momentanément éclipsé; mon passé ne projetait plus devant moi cette ombre de lui-même que nous appelons notre avenir..."

If, in what we have read so far, there was already a considerable amount of close examination of reality, of memory, of existence itself, then there is now an increased amount of such digressions. I'm beginning to see how A la Recherche will stretch to seven volumes (ten in my edition). We see now too the rather frugal doling out of key characters which Proust is engaged on in between the philosophical digressions. We got Charlus for a couple of pages, then there was mention of the tantalising Mademoiselle Simonet, who may or may not be one of the band of 'jeunes filles' on the promenade, a further mention of a mysterious blond woman at Rivebelle, the Princesse de Luxembourg again, and now Elstir. The cast of characters is coming together.
But I think that instead of a narrative with philosophical digressions, this is going to be philosophy with a narrative overlay. I quite like this approach.

Fionnuala wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "...But from what I have noticed, the usage of the word is varied... it can be a warm shadow, or a cold shadow, or the hidden soul of a person... How many concepts can Proust handle..."

Fionnuala - I loved that sentence.. I marked it in my book.

I fully agree with you that this is a writing on philosophy with the narrative overlay. I definitel prefer the sections with musings over the plot or over society comments.

Eugene wrote: "As I said earlier in another discussion, I began to read ISOLT several years ago for Proust's style, particularly for his sentences which are mostly described, if I may sum them, as famous for bein..."

Proust?s favorite teacher during High School, at the Lycée Condorcet, was his philosophy teacher Alphonse Darlu. Carter discusses this in his bio.

Kalliope wrote: "On an earlier post and whether the Narrator ever speaks in direct speech. During his visit to Elstir's studio he quotes himself in inverted commas. He transcribes their dialogue."

Yeah, Nick wasn't correct on that; there is an earlier quote too.

'À l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs' is one of the most beautiful accumulations of words I've ever read. No definition, explication or clarification can match my feeling for them; for me those words are poetry never to be gone beyond. I don't want to know, I could never know what those words mean to me. Even to say they are beautiful, or poetic, as I have said, is a disservice to them. They are what they are, they excite my imagination and they will forever.

Proust in all his verbosity on the band of girls never gets to what his title points at, for me.

It seems from the posts that this week’s reading has had a rather exciting impact on all of us for varied reasons. I too am reading the English translation. I started reading the first volume not only for pleasure but also to study Proust’s writing style, since I am a very, very humble writer. But now I find myself re-reading pages in order to fully grasp all that Proust is offering in his dense passages - about art, culture, society, philosophy. I must admit, I did not appreciate the depth of this journey at its inception. Yet as the narrative has unfolded, as the characters have taken their rightful positions within our minds, in particular, the Narrator, I am eager to see what has been set out for us in the volumes that remain.
I still find myself reading the work academically, as a writer, and I too am in awe of how Proust can convey so much is just 87 words! One sentence, 87 words! I wonder if that passage just fell from his pen or if he agonized over it, edited it time and again. Now I look to this work for enrichment beyond mere sentence structure.

Karen wrote: "How different we all are. Here you all are waxing lyrical, feeling nostalgic, making free associations with music, with art, floating gently away on a cloud of Proustian meditative flow, and me? I'..."

I´ve just got to the girls they feel so free,happy and lively. I can well imagine them suntanned with their little caps on,sweaters.A breath of fresh air after all these enclosed salons and complicated ladies.

Fionnuala wrote: "I've just listened to Joao Gilberto singing a saudade - I love Gilberto.

I'm still in the early pages of this week's reading, still standing open mouthed and staring at the amazingly modern array ..."

Good point.So the Narrator might be like and *ombre* compared to these healthy and happy young girls.

Kalliope wrote: "Fionnuala wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "...But from what I have noticed, the usage of the word is varied... it can be a warm shadow, or a cold shadow, or the hidden soul of a person... How many concepts..."

I too love this way of phrasing it, 'philosophy with narrative overlay'

Eugene wrote: "'À l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs' is one of the most beautiful accumulations of words I've ever read. No definition, explication or clarification can match my feeling for them; for me those w..."

Yes, "A l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs" is a poem unto itself/

What a wonderful idea, Fionnuala to suggest Gilberto; it would never have occurred to me. I have been using almost exclusively a collection of baroque adagios which also enhances deliciously the melancholy tone of some parts of the book but what better fit indeed than Gilberto for a read so drenched in saudade. I have just changed my acoustic wallpaper.

Jocelyne wrote: "What a wonderful idea, Fionnuala to suggest Gilberto; it would never have occurred to me. I have been using almost exclusively a collection of baroque adagios which also enhances deliciously the me..."

Glad you have re-found Gilberto, Jocelyne. He is so beautifully melancholic....

What has interested me this time through is the distortion of my own memory: I remember A l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs as being about the narrator's encounters with the band of girls and Elstir and I was surprised to realize that I am remembering only a quarter of the book! (Well, I do remember other things, but this quarter looms large in my memory -- it overshadows everything else.)

The reflections of the ocean in the glass doors of the bookcases -- isn't that wonderful? And the start of a meditation on metaphor . . .

Cassian wrote: "What has interested me this time through is the distortion of my own memory: I remember A l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs as being about the narrator's encounters with the band of girls and Elstir..
The reflections of the ocean in the glass doors of the bookcases -- isn't that wonderful? And the start of a meditation on metaphor . . .
"

Yes, it is very interesting to see what we retain after years and years. I had read half of this some years ago and then abandoned it, but what I remembered later was only the narrator's grandmother and the descriptions of the sea.

Now I'm remembering that Proust began the 'Nom de pays: le nom' section of 'Du côté' with a passage recalling all the bedrooms of his life and he talks of the one in the Grand-Hôtel in Balbec, "Le tapissier...avait varié la décoration des pièces et sur trois côtés, fait courir le long des murs...des bibliotèques basses, à vitrines en glace..et par un effet qu'il n'avait pas prévu, telle ou telle partie du tableau changeant de la mer se reflétait, déroulant une frise de claires marines, qu'interrompaient seuls les pleins d'acajou."
He was setting us up for a future treat of many more meditations on the sea reflected in that glass, but we didn't know it yet.That's what I love about this work, the way he sows seeds here and there that will grow and flower for our delight if we have patience and stay with the reading.

Cassian wrote: "What has interested me this time through is the distortion of my own memory: I remember A l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs as being about the narrator's encounters with the band of girls and Els..."

Well, given the title, it was to be expected that the Jeunes filles would overshadow everything else in your memory, Cassian.

Kalliope wrote: "Karen wrote: "How different we all are. Here you all are waxing lyrical, feeling nostalgic, making free associations with music, with art, floating gently away on a cloud of Proustian meditative fl..."

Yes, the imagery of the jeunes filles as sea anemones is indeed magical!

I read the Narrator's description of the paintings of Elstir and I think of Raoul Dufy, André Derain, Henri Matisse as a Fauve.

Two bits I find I am returning to again and again (and I have neglected to find the page numbers in English, but both bits are near the end of this week's chunk):

1) The narrator is commenting on how he is keeping watch on the band of girls trying to figure out when and where he can count on "running into" them. What strikes me is the sense of his being a budding anthropologist, gathering evidence, and seeking laws of human behavior. This appears to be one of the threads -- articulating laws and generalizations.

2) The mention of metaphor in relation to Elstir's painting leads to a distinction between impressions and intellectual constructions. It is a distinction that has been playing along for quite awhile. I am reminded of John Dewey in Art as Experience where he distinguishes sensation from recognition, the first being the apprehension of the immediate, the second being a mediating object. (Actually, there are many resonances with our American pragmatisits, especially William James and Dewey.)

During the glass reflection passage there's this:

And sometimes to a sky and sea uniformly grey a rosy touch would be added with an exquisite delicacy, while a little butterfly that had gone to sleep at the foot of the window seemed to be attaching with its wings at the corner of this ‘Harmony in Grey and Pink’ in the Whistler manner the favourite signature of the Chelsea master.

Harmony in Pink and Grey Valerie, Lady Meux, James McNeill Whistler

Richard wrote: "During the glass reflection passage there's this:
And sometimes to a sky and sea uniformly grey a rosy touch would be added with an exquisite delicacy, while a little butterfly that had gone to sle..."

Yes, Richard, this painting is in the Karpeles book.

Cassian wrote: "Two bits I find I am returning to again and again (and I have neglected to find the page numbers in English, but both bits are near the end of this week's chunk):

1) The narrator is commenting on..."

Cassian,

I agree with you and I find it interesting that you are seeing an anthropologist eye with the aim of extracting laws of human behavior. In his discussions of society I always remember that Proust wrote and published society columns in newspapers and magazines, but the stamp of the anthropologist is very suitable.

As for your second point, I also agree. In fact, following this aspect is being my main center of interest in this volume.