Combray
I have postponed writing my first reflective entry on In Search of Lost Time until I finished Swann’s Way, so I have had a bit of time to reflect on the book’s famous first chapter, “Combray.” It should be noted that in some versions of Swann’s Way, the beginning of the book is divided into two sections: “The Overture” and “Combray”; the Modern Library Classics Version makes no such distinction, and so I will refer to the beginning of Swann’s Way, from the goodnight kiss to the beginning of “Swann in Love,” as “Combray.” My second entry will deal with the rest of Swann’s Way, primarily with “Swann in Love,” but also with “Place Names-The Name.” I am enjoying In Search of Lost Time very much so far, and that’s a good thing, for I have quite a bit of reading to do in the next few weeks, and I hear that if one finds Swann’s Way dull, then there is no hope for making it through The Guermantes Way, for example.
Nevertheless, I feel that a good starting point for my discussion of “Combray” would be the great lengths to which Proust goes to describe as much as possible, from a particular feeling to a particular flower. This desire for completion, it seems, makes up quite a bit of Swann’s Way, and, I suspect, the novel as a whole: the long flowery sentences, the lack of action, and the reputation that Proust has for difficulty. The amount of detail certainly does make Proust a slow read in terms of plot; the plot of the first 40 pages or so of “Combray” consists of one evening in which Marcel tries to obtain a goodnight kiss from his mother. Besides making the text “more difficult,” these details also raise thematic questions about the nature of the novel. Why is it important for the narrator to recount his past in such vivid detail? In recording one’s childhood, does one bedtime deserve so much attention? If the narrator is aiming for a complete search through lost time, then spending so much, well, time on specific events seems hardly worth it. However, I don’t think that an authoritative recollection of a life is the narrator’s goal in telling the story; “Combray” suggests that such a goal would be impossible. So what is the goal of such thoroughness, if not to aim for completion? I think that a clue may be found in the narrator’s description of physical objects and involuntary memory. When Marcel drinks the tea, he becomes aware of something from the past; the tea, which was unimportant to him before, becomes suddenly significant. I think that the narrator may be trying this with the reader in his descriptions; the more description he adds, the higher the chance that he “strikes a nerve” of memory or meaningfulness in the reader. The Proust reader can therefore make his way through the beautiful prose until he stumbles upon a tidbit of text that is relevant to him. Of course, this density of text would not be possible were Proust’s language as elegant as it is, but with his style Proust includes as many “physical objects” as he can: many, many words. Perhaps this is why Proust fans can read the book over and over again and gain something new each time; each time they strike new phrases that are important to them at a given stage in their life. So the depth of Proust’s descriptions may drive some readers away, but it seems to reward those who stick around by providing them with all kinds of personal meaning to glean.
I would also like to discuss the beginnings of the novel as the beginnings of an artistic journey, as Marcel’s quest to becoming an artist. In The Proust Project, Lydia Davis, who is one of the new translators of In Search of Lost Time, comments on Marcel’s childhood musings on becoming a writer: she notes that as the narrator considers becoming a writer, he does not know that he will, but he will. Similarly, as Proust wrote Swann’s Way, he also did not yet know that he would become a great writer. Many of the passages wherein Marcel thinks about art or writing resemble passages from James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and I think that the comparison of the two is not unfruitful on several levels. First, one goal of both books seems to be a documentation of an artist’s journey and the search for the source of inspiration. A notable difference here is that while A Portrait seems to revolve around this goal, visions of the artist come less frequently in Swann’s Way. I believe that this is because the narrator’s goal in Swann’s Way is not exclusively to follow the journey of an artist but is instead to try to find again the memories that would otherwise be lost. Sine Proust’s narrator is an artist, many of these memories happen to pertain to “the artist.” Another level of comparison that I think is interesting is the difference in the styles of Proust and Joyce, but I will address that later.
I’ll end my reflection by considering Marcel’s thoughts on the reality of the novel and the reality of the physical world (pp 115-120 of the Modern Library edition). Marcel claims that to him the ideas that novels inspired in him were often more real to him than physical objects. For example, a city that he reads of in a Bergotte novel is more real to him than the actual city of the same name that he can visit. I think that Marcel’s neo-Platonic language is helpful here, for it distinguishes between the two; he does not suppose that the physical city and Bergotte’s perception of the city are the same. Furthermore, Marcel does not assume that the physical is intrinsically superior; on the contrary, he favors the imagined. Finally, Marcel’s ideas that he forms remind me of an argumentative fallacy, the poetic fallacy, when one gives more credibility to something because it’s well said or written. Marcel obviously does, but his belief in his poetic ideas made me rethink the fallacy; it may be useful in arguments, but an acceptance of that fallacy seems to be the basis for all kinds of creative writing and poetry. So for now I’ll stay idealistic and believe in the power of artistic writing, and perhaps even agree with Marcel on the power of the conceptions that such writing inspires.
Although I found “Combray” more intellectually interesting, the next chapter of Swann’s Way, “Swann in Love,” was more emotionally affecting to me. I’ll get to that soon, in the next couple of days. Meanwhile, I make my way through Within a Budding Grove.
Nevertheless, I feel that a good starting point for my discussion of “Combray” would be the great lengths to which Proust goes to describe as much as possible, from a particular feeling to a particular flower. This desire for completion, it seems, makes up quite a bit of Swann’s Way, and, I suspect, the novel as a whole: the long flowery sentences, the lack of action, and the reputation that Proust has for difficulty. The amount of detail certainly does make Proust a slow read in terms of plot; the plot of the first 40 pages or so of “Combray” consists of one evening in which Marcel tries to obtain a goodnight kiss from his mother. Besides making the text “more difficult,” these details also raise thematic questions about the nature of the novel. Why is it important for the narrator to recount his past in such vivid detail? In recording one’s childhood, does one bedtime deserve so much attention? If the narrator is aiming for a complete search through lost time, then spending so much, well, time on specific events seems hardly worth it. However, I don’t think that an authoritative recollection of a life is the narrator’s goal in telling the story; “Combray” suggests that such a goal would be impossible. So what is the goal of such thoroughness, if not to aim for completion? I think that a clue may be found in the narrator’s description of physical objects and involuntary memory. When Marcel drinks the tea, he becomes aware of something from the past; the tea, which was unimportant to him before, becomes suddenly significant. I think that the narrator may be trying this with the reader in his descriptions; the more description he adds, the higher the chance that he “strikes a nerve” of memory or meaningfulness in the reader. The Proust reader can therefore make his way through the beautiful prose until he stumbles upon a tidbit of text that is relevant to him. Of course, this density of text would not be possible were Proust’s language as elegant as it is, but with his style Proust includes as many “physical objects” as he can: many, many words. Perhaps this is why Proust fans can read the book over and over again and gain something new each time; each time they strike new phrases that are important to them at a given stage in their life. So the depth of Proust’s descriptions may drive some readers away, but it seems to reward those who stick around by providing them with all kinds of personal meaning to glean.
I would also like to discuss the beginnings of the novel as the beginnings of an artistic journey, as Marcel’s quest to becoming an artist. In The Proust Project, Lydia Davis, who is one of the new translators of In Search of Lost Time, comments on Marcel’s childhood musings on becoming a writer: she notes that as the narrator considers becoming a writer, he does not know that he will, but he will. Similarly, as Proust wrote Swann’s Way, he also did not yet know that he would become a great writer. Many of the passages wherein Marcel thinks about art or writing resemble passages from James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and I think that the comparison of the two is not unfruitful on several levels. First, one goal of both books seems to be a documentation of an artist’s journey and the search for the source of inspiration. A notable difference here is that while A Portrait seems to revolve around this goal, visions of the artist come less frequently in Swann’s Way. I believe that this is because the narrator’s goal in Swann’s Way is not exclusively to follow the journey of an artist but is instead to try to find again the memories that would otherwise be lost. Sine Proust’s narrator is an artist, many of these memories happen to pertain to “the artist.” Another level of comparison that I think is interesting is the difference in the styles of Proust and Joyce, but I will address that later.
I’ll end my reflection by considering Marcel’s thoughts on the reality of the novel and the reality of the physical world (pp 115-120 of the Modern Library edition). Marcel claims that to him the ideas that novels inspired in him were often more real to him than physical objects. For example, a city that he reads of in a Bergotte novel is more real to him than the actual city of the same name that he can visit. I think that Marcel’s neo-Platonic language is helpful here, for it distinguishes between the two; he does not suppose that the physical city and Bergotte’s perception of the city are the same. Furthermore, Marcel does not assume that the physical is intrinsically superior; on the contrary, he favors the imagined. Finally, Marcel’s ideas that he forms remind me of an argumentative fallacy, the poetic fallacy, when one gives more credibility to something because it’s well said or written. Marcel obviously does, but his belief in his poetic ideas made me rethink the fallacy; it may be useful in arguments, but an acceptance of that fallacy seems to be the basis for all kinds of creative writing and poetry. So for now I’ll stay idealistic and believe in the power of artistic writing, and perhaps even agree with Marcel on the power of the conceptions that such writing inspires.
Although I found “Combray” more intellectually interesting, the next chapter of Swann’s Way, “Swann in Love,” was more emotionally affecting to me. I’ll get to that soon, in the next couple of days. Meanwhile, I make my way through Within a Budding Grove.
posted by Michael at 8:57 PM
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