My fourth week of Proust
I must say that the second book is moving much more swiftly than the first. This is probably so as the second book is lacking the two opening establishing shots of the first.
There’s also more intrigue in the second compared to the first. Love, tinged with jealously and psychoanalysis, is still the prime mover.
The syntax, which I found bothersome in the first almost to the point of stifling, has vanished. Proust also seems to have tempered his colossal vocabulary (or I’ve simply become desensitized to it).
I agree here with Beckett (and Bloom after) that Proust is really an author of shrouded epiphanies.
I’m reading Proust in fairly rigid blocks of 20-30 pages a day. I do this to arose myself through anticipation and also to disallow the task from consuming my day.
I’m also trying not to spoil, so I speak around the subject hoping to give a myopic view that acts as an exhortation.