<img src="http://samwilson.id.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/proust-1024x76.png" alt="Spine of the book." style="width:100%" class="aligncenter wp-image-1036" srcset="http://localhost/~sam/wp-samwilson.id.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/proust-1024x76.png 1024w, http://localhost/~sam/wp-samwilson.id.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/proust-150x11.png 150w, http://localhost/~sam/wp-samwilson.id.au/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/proust-500x37.png 500w" sizes="(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px" />
p.41, on reading the ‘news-in-brief’ section of the daily paper:
* Tragic end for Verona lovebirds: after mistakenly thinking his sweetheart dead, a young man took his life. Having discovered the fate of her lover, the woman killed herself in turn.
- A young mother threw herself under a train and died in Russia after domenstic problems.
- A young mother took arsenic and died in a French provincial town after domestic problems.
Unfortunately, the very artistry of Shakespeare, Tolstoy, and Flaubert has the tendency to suggest that it would have been apparent even from a news-in-brief that there was something significant about Romeo, Anna, and Emma, something which would have led any right-thinking person to see that these were characters fit for great literature or a show at the Globe, whereas of course there would have been nothing to distinguish them [from the everyday items that make it into news-in-brief.]
There would come a moment with every book when we would feel that something was incongruous, misunderstood, or constraining, and it would give us a responsibility to leave our guide behind and continue our thoughts alone.
…there is nothing inherently three-star about a town Proust grew up in or inherently no-star about an Elf petrol station neaer Courville where Proust never had a chance to fill his Renault — but where if he had, he might easily have found something to appreciate…
It should not be Illiers-Combray that we visit: a genuine homage to Proust would be to look at our world through his eyes, not to look at his world through our eyes.