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Within A Budding Grove, Part 1
First published in 1919, Within a Budding Grove was awarded the Prix Goncourt, bringing the author immediate fame. In this second volume of Remembrance of Things Past, the narrator turns from the childhood reminiscences of Swann’s Way to memories of his adolescence. Having gradually become indifferent to Swann’s daughter Gilberte, the narrator visits the seaside resort of Balbec with his grandmother and meets a new object of attention—Albertine, “a girl with brilliant, laughing eyes and plump, matt cheeks.�
396 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1919
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About the author
Marcel Proust
1,887books7,184followersMarcel Proust was a French novelist, best known for his 3000 page masterpiece À la recherche du temps perdu (Remembrance of Things Past or In Search of Lost Time), a pseudo-autobiographical novel told mostly in a stream-of-consciousness style.
Born in the first year of the Third Republic, the young Marcel, like his narrator, was a delicate child from a bourgeois family. He was active in Parisian high society during the 80s and 90s, welcomed in the most fashionable and exclusive salons of his day. However, his position there was also one of an outsider, due to his Jewishness and homosexuality. Towards the end of 1890s Proust began to withdraw more and more from society, and although he was never entirely reclusive, as is sometimes made out, he lapsed more completely into his lifelong tendency to sleep during the day and work at night. He was also plagued with severe asthma, which had troubled him intermittently since childhood, and a terror of his own death, especially in case it should come before his novel had been completed. The first volume, after some difficulty finding a publisher, came out in 1913, and Proust continued to work with an almost inhuman dedication on his masterpiece right up until his death in 1922, at the age of 51.
Today he is widely recognized as one of the greatest authors of the 20th Century, and À la recherche du temps perdu as one of the most dazzling and significant works of literature to be written in modern times.
Born in the first year of the Third Republic, the young Marcel, like his narrator, was a delicate child from a bourgeois family. He was active in Parisian high society during the 80s and 90s, welcomed in the most fashionable and exclusive salons of his day. However, his position there was also one of an outsider, due to his Jewishness and homosexuality. Towards the end of 1890s Proust began to withdraw more and more from society, and although he was never entirely reclusive, as is sometimes made out, he lapsed more completely into his lifelong tendency to sleep during the day and work at night. He was also plagued with severe asthma, which had troubled him intermittently since childhood, and a terror of his own death, especially in case it should come before his novel had been completed. The first volume, after some difficulty finding a publisher, came out in 1913, and Proust continued to work with an almost inhuman dedication on his masterpiece right up until his death in 1922, at the age of 51.
Today he is widely recognized as one of the greatest authors of the 20th Century, and À la recherche du temps perdu as one of the most dazzling and significant works of literature to be written in modern times.
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May 20, 2015This is a review of Autour de Mme Swann, the first part of A l’Ombre des Jeunes Filles en Fleurs, published separately in this Garnier-Flammarion edition.
This section of A la Recherche du Temps Perdu reminded me of the soldier who hid under the wide skirts of Oskar’s grandmother in Gunter Grass's The Tin Drum and who found pleasure there but who must have crawled out half suffocated at the end. The title itself, A l’ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs conjures up a similar image for me: the narrator crouching in the shadow of voluminous flowery skirts, taking some pleasure but suffering too, just as I did while reading. I felt horribly suffocated by the claustrophobic atmosphere of the the narrator’s situation, so dominated was it by the convolutions of his obsession with Gilberte, and to a lesser extent with Mme Swann herself. The twists and turns of his unrequited passion felt too reminiscent of Swann’s tortured affair in Du Côté de chez Swann for me to be able to read this without groaning inwardly. I identified with Swann, and forgave his tormented reflections; I can't identify with the narrator so easily as I don't believe in the object of his desire; considering how important a role she plays, Gilberte is like a preparatory sketch rather than a fully fleshed out character.
But there were some respites from the inner torment. The beginning presented an interesting opening up of the narrator’s world via the character of the slightly ridiculous international diplomat, M Norpois and his idiosyncratic opinions on politics, theatre and literature. The narrator also meets his fetish author, M Bergotte, in this section and that encounter is both interesting and refreshing. But that breath of fresh air soon expires beneath the force of the narrator’s ongoing obsession with Gilberte.
However, in spite of my impatience with the narrator's various neuroses, I know that Proust was very interested in the phenomenon of the period of adjustment necessary before certain works of art, first judged inaccessible, later become accessible so I have to be patient and believe that even the tedious parts will eventually be seen to be important in the whole structure and that I will eventually understand the entire concept.
And in the meantime, I am cheerfully reading my way through Volume II of A l’ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs and am revelling in the fresh sea breezes blowing around Balbec, le Pays.
This section of A la Recherche du Temps Perdu reminded me of the soldier who hid under the wide skirts of Oskar’s grandmother in Gunter Grass's The Tin Drum and who found pleasure there but who must have crawled out half suffocated at the end. The title itself, A l’ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs conjures up a similar image for me: the narrator crouching in the shadow of voluminous flowery skirts, taking some pleasure but suffering too, just as I did while reading. I felt horribly suffocated by the claustrophobic atmosphere of the the narrator’s situation, so dominated was it by the convolutions of his obsession with Gilberte, and to a lesser extent with Mme Swann herself. The twists and turns of his unrequited passion felt too reminiscent of Swann’s tortured affair in Du Côté de chez Swann for me to be able to read this without groaning inwardly. I identified with Swann, and forgave his tormented reflections; I can't identify with the narrator so easily as I don't believe in the object of his desire; considering how important a role she plays, Gilberte is like a preparatory sketch rather than a fully fleshed out character.
But there were some respites from the inner torment. The beginning presented an interesting opening up of the narrator’s world via the character of the slightly ridiculous international diplomat, M Norpois and his idiosyncratic opinions on politics, theatre and literature. The narrator also meets his fetish author, M Bergotte, in this section and that encounter is both interesting and refreshing. But that breath of fresh air soon expires beneath the force of the narrator’s ongoing obsession with Gilberte.
However, in spite of my impatience with the narrator's various neuroses, I know that Proust was very interested in the phenomenon of the period of adjustment necessary before certain works of art, first judged inaccessible, later become accessible so I have to be patient and believe that even the tedious parts will eventually be seen to be important in the whole structure and that I will eventually understand the entire concept.
And in the meantime, I am cheerfully reading my way through Volume II of A l’ombre des Jeunes filles en fleurs and am revelling in the fresh sea breezes blowing around Balbec, le Pays.
September 19, 2015
I am a failure at Marcel Proust. Although I did get through part 1 of Swann's Way and kind of enjoyed it (but missed part 2),I gave up Part 1 of Within a Budding Grove at about the 3/4 mark. Reading it felt like being trapped in a room with a person who could not, would not, stop talking--a constant running commentary on everything, with no breaks in between topics, no stopping to check that the other person was still alive, just incessant talk. I couldn't stand it any more and decided there were other things more shameful than giving up on Proust.
August 31, 2024
"Amb prou feines imaginava que aquella substància estranya que residia en la Gilberte i que irradiava cap als seus pares, cap a casa seva, que em feien ser indiferent a tota la resta, que aquella substància podria ser alliberada, emigrar a un altre ésser"
"Perquè mentre el nostre cor conté d'una manera permanent la imatge d'una altra persona, allò que pot ser destruït a cada moment no és només la nostra felicitat; quan aquesta felicitat s'esvaeix, quan hem sofert i després, quan hem reeixit a adormir el nostre sofriment, allò que és tan enganyós i precari com ho havia estat la felicitat és la calma."
Naixement i mort del primer amor del Narrador. Com amb el primer volum, una prosa que a estones m'hipnotitza (no és una exageració) i a estones m'avorreix profundament (no em calia saber amb tant de detall cada vestimenta de l'Odette, dear Proust). És clar que, un cop acabat, els moments més avorrits se m'obliden, tot i que m'ha agradat una mica menys que el primer perquè el factor impressió ja l'havia gastat.
No he trobat ningú que descrigui amb tanta precisió alguns aspectes de la condició humana (la gelosia, l'enamorament), i és innegable que fa unes frases per caure de cul (sigui quin sigui l'efecte de la caiguda).
Un estiu més, mig volum menys. De moment faré una pausa perquè no em veig amb cor d'agafar el II. Però hi tornarem, i tant!
"Perquè mentre el nostre cor conté d'una manera permanent la imatge d'una altra persona, allò que pot ser destruït a cada moment no és només la nostra felicitat; quan aquesta felicitat s'esvaeix, quan hem sofert i després, quan hem reeixit a adormir el nostre sofriment, allò que és tan enganyós i precari com ho havia estat la felicitat és la calma."
Naixement i mort del primer amor del Narrador. Com amb el primer volum, una prosa que a estones m'hipnotitza (no és una exageració) i a estones m'avorreix profundament (no em calia saber amb tant de detall cada vestimenta de l'Odette, dear Proust). És clar que, un cop acabat, els moments més avorrits se m'obliden, tot i que m'ha agradat una mica menys que el primer perquè el factor impressió ja l'havia gastat.
No he trobat ningú que descrigui amb tanta precisió alguns aspectes de la condició humana (la gelosia, l'enamorament), i és innegable que fa unes frases per caure de cul (sigui quin sigui l'efecte de la caiguda).
Un estiu més, mig volum menys. De moment faré una pausa perquè no em veig amb cor d'agafar el II. Però hi tornarem, i tant!
September 1, 2016
17th Aug 2015: I've now returned in earnest to Remembrance of Things Past - getting stuck into Within a Budding Grove: young Marcel being in unrequited love, and again... sigh... so much is evoked from my heart - it's as if he has was drawn on my own experiences - again. I thought at one point it would have helped to have read this at the times in my life when I was entrapped in this sort of "love"; but on reflection, I probably wouldn't have avoided the heartbreak; it would have just made me feel all more melancholic as I went through it all! You know, it does sometimes make me wonder if we are just actors on a stage of our own life, to have your experiences described to you from 100 years ago. I suppose really it shows we are all related in a deep sense, through our humanity; but our ego protests...
There's also a very touching passage on how we try for new starts in our lives, often based around arbitrary dates and moments with which we try to structure Time and by implication ourselves, such as New Year's day; but in fact, there we are, continued, with our feelings, our desires, our hearts unchanged, as relentlessly time flows on through us.
----
23 Aug 2016: Reading Proust is weird - after a while it becomes like you've always been reading Proust, and always will be reading Proust. At the moment I can just about remember there was a time before I started reading him, but that may fade... (I must be approaching the 20% mark, surely) It reminds me of drone music, or stuff like Steve Reich's Drumming that goes on and on and on; at first your interested, then you start wondering when the hell it will end, and then you go into a trance like state of acceptance, so when it stops suddenly, you feel bereft.
About a quarter the way into Proust’s Within a Budding Grove. Not as zippy as Swann’s Way (hah, Proust’s writing: “zippy�?), but with wonderful melancholic moments emerging, surfacing here and there from the ocean of words. I love how he lopes on for pages about not much, flirting with boredom, and then catches you almost unawares; for instance wonderfully encapsulating a writer’s creative decline in a few sentences, looking out of the moment into the distant future, somehow gaining access to the waning writer's mind, who is in the present so satisfied with himself � - -
----
29th Aug 2016: Finished Madame Swann at Home, the first part of Within a Budding Grove, and I can see why some people give up with Proust � wading through seemingly endless pages of awful adolescent obsessing over Gilberte, with impossibly convoluted rationalisations and game playing� it was tough, I was impatient with Marcel, but there were enough moments of relief for me, and Marcel too for that matter, such as "wrestling" with Gilberte, to get through it all.
For instance, I loved, almost in passing, the mention of hidden craftsmanship: exquisite carved reliefs on church walls, too high to see; the workmanship of inner linings on coats, or on the blouses beneath them. It’s something I’ve always found eerie, that gives me a mild sense of existentialist vertigo, on finding beautiful, or just pleasing things which are deliberately placed out of sight. But which nevertheless, might be stumbled upon at any moment, an unexpected joy to find. I’m reminded � and I don’t know if this is still so, I’ll find out next time I buy a bottle of Czech Budweiser - the bottle cap is covered in gold foil. If you make the effort to scrape it off, on the actual metal of the cap is/was a coat of arms of the brewery � no one sees it, apart from bored or idle imbibers, who are rewarded for their fingernail scratching�
I'd also mention how much of a master he is at segueing from one train of thought or memory to another; or switching the Narrator, who at one moment is remembering himself as of then, then next moment, in the "now" looking back, providing a commentary. You hardly notice most of the time, and it should be disorientating, but it isn't - I don't know quite how he pulls it off really.
----
I started the Place names: the place section of Within a Budding Grove - the first couple of dozen or so pages are taken up by a description of a train journey from Paris to Balbec, and - maybe it was just my mood - but it felt like one of the most wonderful passages of prose I have ever read. Its extraordinary - evokes so much of what I've felt, more than thought, on a train journeys. He swims through so many ideas, ethereal, dreamlike: on how train stations as places almost to themselves; the rhythm of the train; being in transition, idly watching scenery pass by; fleeting moments of communion with strangers "outside", that feel important; people, places, that almost promise another, new life, which fades as it falls behind, out of sight - and so much more, I just can't do it justice. Absolutely wonderful. I forgive you, Marcel, for the adolescent angst.
I'll just quote this, on beauty, reading, and recommending books to others - he's thinking of how beauty is to be found most in the specific, in the vividness of the new; and then uses this as an analogy:
"So it is that a well-read man will at once begin to yawn with boredom when anyone speaks to him of a new 'good book,' because he imagines a sort of composite of all the good books that he has read and knows already, whereas a good book is something special, something incalculable, and is made up not of the sum of all previous masterpieces but of something which the most thorough assimilation of every one of them would not enable him to discover, since it exists not in their sum but beyond it. Once he has become acquainted with this new work, the well-read man, till then apathetic, feels his interest awaken in the reality which it depicts."
There's also a very touching passage on how we try for new starts in our lives, often based around arbitrary dates and moments with which we try to structure Time and by implication ourselves, such as New Year's day; but in fact, there we are, continued, with our feelings, our desires, our hearts unchanged, as relentlessly time flows on through us.
----
23 Aug 2016: Reading Proust is weird - after a while it becomes like you've always been reading Proust, and always will be reading Proust. At the moment I can just about remember there was a time before I started reading him, but that may fade... (I must be approaching the 20% mark, surely) It reminds me of drone music, or stuff like Steve Reich's Drumming that goes on and on and on; at first your interested, then you start wondering when the hell it will end, and then you go into a trance like state of acceptance, so when it stops suddenly, you feel bereft.
About a quarter the way into Proust’s Within a Budding Grove. Not as zippy as Swann’s Way (hah, Proust’s writing: “zippy�?), but with wonderful melancholic moments emerging, surfacing here and there from the ocean of words. I love how he lopes on for pages about not much, flirting with boredom, and then catches you almost unawares; for instance wonderfully encapsulating a writer’s creative decline in a few sentences, looking out of the moment into the distant future, somehow gaining access to the waning writer's mind, who is in the present so satisfied with himself � - -
"After all, it is more or less accurate, it must be of some value to the country." So that the phrase murmured long ago among his admirers by the insincere voice of modesty came in the end to be whispered in the secrecy of his heart by the uneasy tongue of pride. And the same words which had served Bergotte as an unwanted excuse for the excellence of his earliest works became as it were an ineffective consolation to him for the hopeless mediocrity of the latest.
----
29th Aug 2016: Finished Madame Swann at Home, the first part of Within a Budding Grove, and I can see why some people give up with Proust � wading through seemingly endless pages of awful adolescent obsessing over Gilberte, with impossibly convoluted rationalisations and game playing� it was tough, I was impatient with Marcel, but there were enough moments of relief for me, and Marcel too for that matter, such as "wrestling" with Gilberte, to get through it all.
For instance, I loved, almost in passing, the mention of hidden craftsmanship: exquisite carved reliefs on church walls, too high to see; the workmanship of inner linings on coats, or on the blouses beneath them. It’s something I’ve always found eerie, that gives me a mild sense of existentialist vertigo, on finding beautiful, or just pleasing things which are deliberately placed out of sight. But which nevertheless, might be stumbled upon at any moment, an unexpected joy to find. I’m reminded � and I don’t know if this is still so, I’ll find out next time I buy a bottle of Czech Budweiser - the bottle cap is covered in gold foil. If you make the effort to scrape it off, on the actual metal of the cap is/was a coat of arms of the brewery � no one sees it, apart from bored or idle imbibers, who are rewarded for their fingernail scratching�
I'd also mention how much of a master he is at segueing from one train of thought or memory to another; or switching the Narrator, who at one moment is remembering himself as of then, then next moment, in the "now" looking back, providing a commentary. You hardly notice most of the time, and it should be disorientating, but it isn't - I don't know quite how he pulls it off really.
----
I started the Place names: the place section of Within a Budding Grove - the first couple of dozen or so pages are taken up by a description of a train journey from Paris to Balbec, and - maybe it was just my mood - but it felt like one of the most wonderful passages of prose I have ever read. Its extraordinary - evokes so much of what I've felt, more than thought, on a train journeys. He swims through so many ideas, ethereal, dreamlike: on how train stations as places almost to themselves; the rhythm of the train; being in transition, idly watching scenery pass by; fleeting moments of communion with strangers "outside", that feel important; people, places, that almost promise another, new life, which fades as it falls behind, out of sight - and so much more, I just can't do it justice. Absolutely wonderful. I forgive you, Marcel, for the adolescent angst.
I'll just quote this, on beauty, reading, and recommending books to others - he's thinking of how beauty is to be found most in the specific, in the vividness of the new; and then uses this as an analogy:
"So it is that a well-read man will at once begin to yawn with boredom when anyone speaks to him of a new 'good book,' because he imagines a sort of composite of all the good books that he has read and knows already, whereas a good book is something special, something incalculable, and is made up not of the sum of all previous masterpieces but of something which the most thorough assimilation of every one of them would not enable him to discover, since it exists not in their sum but beyond it. Once he has become acquainted with this new work, the well-read man, till then apathetic, feels his interest awaken in the reality which it depicts."
October 5, 2020
Tarina jatkuu suoraan Paikannimet: Nimen tapahtumista. Nimetön päähenkilö on edelleen ihastunut Gilberteen. Hänen rakkautensa tiellä on esteitä, jotka katoavat, vain että uusia tulee tilalle.
Proust on edelleen parhaimmillaan piikitellessään ihmisten turhamaisuutta ja pinnallisuutta. Niin de Norpois kuin runoilija Bergotte saavat tästä osansa, mutta erityisesti Proust ilkkuu päähenkilönsä puutteille. Ja päähenkilö onkin hyvin puutteellinen ihminen: hän on selvästi enemmän ihastunut itse ihastukseensa kuin todelliseen Gilberteen; hän pettyy niin pahasti Bergotten ulkonäköön, että hänen arvostuksensa tämän kirjoja kohtaan laskee heti selvästi; hän rypee itsesäälissään naurettavuuteen saakka.
Päähenkilön ja Gilberten suhteen kuvaus muistuttaa kuitenkin jo vähän puuduttavuuteen saakka Swannin ja Odetten suhdetta: hyvin samoja epäilyksiä ja sydänsuruja käydään taas läpi. Se teki tästä osasta selvästi vähemmän mukaansatempaavan kuin aiemmat.
Proust on edelleen parhaimmillaan piikitellessään ihmisten turhamaisuutta ja pinnallisuutta. Niin de Norpois kuin runoilija Bergotte saavat tästä osansa, mutta erityisesti Proust ilkkuu päähenkilönsä puutteille. Ja päähenkilö onkin hyvin puutteellinen ihminen: hän on selvästi enemmän ihastunut itse ihastukseensa kuin todelliseen Gilberteen; hän pettyy niin pahasti Bergotten ulkonäköön, että hänen arvostuksensa tämän kirjoja kohtaan laskee heti selvästi; hän rypee itsesäälissään naurettavuuteen saakka.
Päähenkilön ja Gilberten suhteen kuvaus muistuttaa kuitenkin jo vähän puuduttavuuteen saakka Swannin ja Odetten suhdetta: hyvin samoja epäilyksiä ja sydänsuruja käydään taas läpi. Se teki tästä osasta selvästi vähemmän mukaansatempaavan kuin aiemmat.
September 29, 2023
Sembla que et distregui amb la conversa d'un diplomàtic excèntric, t'encanti amb la fascinació que sent pel seu escriptor preferit, o amb com t'explica l'efecte que fa la llum d'una llar al vianant que la veu des del carrer, o amb totes les descripcions de vestits, flors, mobles, coixins... i tot i que ja vas veient que la cosa no acabarà bé, de cop: pam, i patapam! Hòstia rere hòstia fins deixar-te amb el cor encongit a la mida d'un pinyol.
Ai
Ai
August 11, 2024
Meanderende beschouwingen over de verschillende aspecten van de liefde afgewisseld met oeverloze beschrijvingen van elk detail van een specifieke salon of aristocratische omgangsvorm.
August 16, 2013
Much of Within a Budding Grove Part 1 I found dull and tedious. The highlights for me were the descriptions of the Swanns' life at home and how they entertained their guests and the descriptions of Madame Swann, her toilette and the variety of colourful crepe de chine wrappers she wore at home (which makes you want to chuck out your ill fitting cheap tracksuits immediately!). There is a description of the view into the house lit in the evenings as seen by the casual passer-by which is also memorable. The section on the holiday to Balbec was a lot more interesting to me than the first half of the book and the description of how the grandmother cared for the sick narrator is tenderly drawn. It interested me how the maid travelled with the family members and formed her own relationships with the staff at the hotel. To travel with the family she wore clothing which had been handed down to her but which she had refashioned in a way to suit her station, using her own sewing skills.
December 4, 2018
There are some rather zenlike observations in here but god these books are boring. Boring and far too long.
December 11, 2018
Kun pääsee sisälle niin loistavuus tulee aina vain selkeämmäksi.
Toki tuntuu välittyvän sellainen kuva, että harva asia tekee meidät onnelliseksi, jos sen saavutamme. Nautimme tai osaamme antaa paljon enemmän arvoa asioille, kun meillä ei niitä ole.
Näitä lukee myös kuin esseinä kokemisesta, näkemisestä ja tuntemisesta. Toki jos ei jaksa keskittyä tai muita asioita pyörii mielessä, hukkaan menee. Ei siis liiallisen stressin poistajana vaan rentoutumisen tehostajana.
Toki tuntuu välittyvän sellainen kuva, että harva asia tekee meidät onnelliseksi, jos sen saavutamme. Nautimme tai osaamme antaa paljon enemmän arvoa asioille, kun meillä ei niitä ole.
Näitä lukee myös kuin esseinä kokemisesta, näkemisestä ja tuntemisesta. Toki jos ei jaksa keskittyä tai muita asioita pyörii mielessä, hukkaan menee. Ei siis liiallisen stressin poistajana vaan rentoutumisen tehostajana.
April 8, 2020
Tulen todellakin löytämään kadonneen ajan! Mietin jopa 5/5:sta huhu.
August 26, 2016
I loved Swann's Way and was really looking forward to reading this next one in the series. Proust still shines in those moments he's describing and commenting human behaviour and emotions. It was quite fascinating to read his honest narration of him trying to manipulate Gilberte Swann. But I have to admit I enjoyed Proust telling the story of Mr. Swann in the last book far better than talking about himself in this book. There were quite a lot of rambly bits (f.ex. do we have to talk about what someone is wearing for 4 pages in a row?) that bored me and that is why I won't feel like grabbing the next book for a while.
March 19, 2024
Kolmas suomennos aloittaa alkuperäisen ranskalaisen toisen osan, Kukkaan puhkeavien tyttöjen varjossa. Se palkittiin aikoinaan Ranskan arvostetuimpiin kuuluvalla Goncourt-kirjapalkinnolla. Suomennoksessa kirja on jaettu kahteen osaan, joista ensimmäinen on Rouva Swannin ympärillä. Suomentajana jatkaa Inkeri Tuomikoski.
Kertoja-Marcel pääsee kohtaamaan idoleitaan: hän pääsee vihdoin teatteriin näkemään la Berman esiintymässä ja kohtaa illallisilla kirjailija Bergotten. Idolien kohtaamiseen liittyvät aina omat riskinsä, jotka näissäkin tapauksissa realisoituvat jossain määrin. Pääasiassa kirjan tapahtumat sijoittuvat kuitenkin rouva Swannin salonkiin, jonne kertojaa vetää tietysti edellisestä osasta tuttu Swannien tytär Gilberte.
Alussa kohdataan kuitenkin markiisi de Norpois, maineikas diplomaatti, joka ratkaisee kertojan kannalta keskeisen kysymyksen. Isähän halusi pojastaan diplomaatin, mutta ajatus joutumisesta lähettilääksi kaukaisiin pääkaupunkeihin pois Gilberten luota ei kertojaa miellytä. Isä pitää kertojan haaveilemaa kirjallista uraa diplomaatin uraa alempiarvoisena, mutta de Norpois vakuuttaa isän, että kirjailijana saattaa hankkia runsaasti vaikutusvaltaa.
Muuten sitten pyöritään Pariisin seurapiirielämän parissa ja analysoidaan porvariston hillittyä charmia terävästi. Odette eli rouva Swann on sosiaaliselta asemaltaan heikompi, kiitos taustansa ”puolimaailman naisena� eli kurtisaanina. Kertoja saa Gilberteltä kutsun teelle ja pääsee sitä kautta Swannien piireihin vakituiseksi vieraaksi, mikä onkin oikea toiveiden täyttymys. Swannien juhlissa kertoja kohtaa Bergottenkin.
Gilberten ja kertojan välinen suhde � niin vakavalta kuin se vaikuttaakin � ei kuitenkaan ole ikuinen. Vaikka välit menevät jopa poikki, Swannien vaikutuspiiristä kertoja ei kuitenkaan pääse niin vain. Swanneilla vierailee myös rouva Bontemps, jonka sukulaistyttö Albertine mainitaan pariinkin otteeseen � mutta kertoja ei vielä tässä vaiheessa Albertinesta innostu.
Proust jatkaa tyylilleen uskollisena, teksti virtaa vuolaasti sivu toisensa perään. Teksti on vähän raskasta lukea, mutta kaunista. Kovin suuresti tässä ei tapahdu � kirjan keskeisimmät tapahtumat on äkkiä listattu � mutta toisaalta pieniä käänteitä on siellä ja täällä ja jos kovin pintapuolisesti lukee, kaikenlaista voi jäädä huomaamatta. Kuten vaikkapa kertojan Gilberten kanssa painiskellessaan saama orgasmi. Kadonnutta aikaa etsimässä on edelleen kiehtova teos.
Kertoja-Marcel pääsee kohtaamaan idoleitaan: hän pääsee vihdoin teatteriin näkemään la Berman esiintymässä ja kohtaa illallisilla kirjailija Bergotten. Idolien kohtaamiseen liittyvät aina omat riskinsä, jotka näissäkin tapauksissa realisoituvat jossain määrin. Pääasiassa kirjan tapahtumat sijoittuvat kuitenkin rouva Swannin salonkiin, jonne kertojaa vetää tietysti edellisestä osasta tuttu Swannien tytär Gilberte.
Alussa kohdataan kuitenkin markiisi de Norpois, maineikas diplomaatti, joka ratkaisee kertojan kannalta keskeisen kysymyksen. Isähän halusi pojastaan diplomaatin, mutta ajatus joutumisesta lähettilääksi kaukaisiin pääkaupunkeihin pois Gilberten luota ei kertojaa miellytä. Isä pitää kertojan haaveilemaa kirjallista uraa diplomaatin uraa alempiarvoisena, mutta de Norpois vakuuttaa isän, että kirjailijana saattaa hankkia runsaasti vaikutusvaltaa.
Muuten sitten pyöritään Pariisin seurapiirielämän parissa ja analysoidaan porvariston hillittyä charmia terävästi. Odette eli rouva Swann on sosiaaliselta asemaltaan heikompi, kiitos taustansa ”puolimaailman naisena� eli kurtisaanina. Kertoja saa Gilberteltä kutsun teelle ja pääsee sitä kautta Swannien piireihin vakituiseksi vieraaksi, mikä onkin oikea toiveiden täyttymys. Swannien juhlissa kertoja kohtaa Bergottenkin.
Gilberten ja kertojan välinen suhde � niin vakavalta kuin se vaikuttaakin � ei kuitenkaan ole ikuinen. Vaikka välit menevät jopa poikki, Swannien vaikutuspiiristä kertoja ei kuitenkaan pääse niin vain. Swanneilla vierailee myös rouva Bontemps, jonka sukulaistyttö Albertine mainitaan pariinkin otteeseen � mutta kertoja ei vielä tässä vaiheessa Albertinesta innostu.
Proust jatkaa tyylilleen uskollisena, teksti virtaa vuolaasti sivu toisensa perään. Teksti on vähän raskasta lukea, mutta kaunista. Kovin suuresti tässä ei tapahdu � kirjan keskeisimmät tapahtumat on äkkiä listattu � mutta toisaalta pieniä käänteitä on siellä ja täällä ja jos kovin pintapuolisesti lukee, kaikenlaista voi jäädä huomaamatta. Kuten vaikkapa kertojan Gilberten kanssa painiskellessaan saama orgasmi. Kadonnutta aikaa etsimässä on edelleen kiehtova teos.
November 14, 2024
Increíble. Nunca, nunca había leído algo parecido. Un extraordinario diseccionamiento del primer amor adolescente —pero muy extraordinario, es que es increíble la precisión con la que este hombre describe las cosas�, aunque para mí lo mejor han sido las reflexiones a raíz de las relaciones del protagonista con su escritor favorito sobre el arte. Entre la gran cantidad de fragmentos más que memorables —Proust describe perfectamente ese miedo a entrar en contacto, por ejemplo, con la adaptación de una obra de arte sobre la que, debido a nuestro favoritismo por ella, hemos volcado toda nuestra imaginación y esperanzas hasta el punto de que somos conscientes que ni la experiencia de la obra misma nos resultará satisfactoria�, me quedo con dos páginas absolutamente MA-RA-VI-LLO-SAS en las que el protagonista toma conciencia por primera vez de formar parte, de «estar» en el Tiempo, y del irremediable avance sin pausa de este. Esta obra no está exenta de las dificultades que presentaban para el lector los volúmenes anteriores, con la diferencia de que aquí verdaderamente es imposible no darse cuenta de que uno está delante de una OBRA MAESTRA (con mayúsculas a propósito) y, en consecuencia, es menester sólo por ello terminar de leer toda la serie que conforma está gran novela que es En busca del tiempo perdido.
May 3, 2023
Kadonnutta aikaa etsimässä kiertyy jälleen vulgäärin puolimaailmannaisen rouva Swannin, ja hänen tyttärensä, ympärille. Kohti aikuisuutta kurottavalla minäkertojalla on päähänpinttymä Swannin perheestä, johon hän viimein pääsee tutustumaan henkilökohtaisesti. Oli vaikea nielestellä aamuruuhkassa naurua, kun rouva Swannin innoittamana minäkertoja yrittää saada perheensä luopumaan joulusta ja muista hyvistä ranskan kielen sanoista ja siirtymään puhumaan vain Christmasistä ynnä muusta. Taivas varjele millaista kärsimystä se mahtoi olla perheelle. On vaikea kuvitella, ettei perhe pistänyt loppua moisia haihatuksia aiheuttavalle ystävyydelle. Oijoi.
En tiedä ymmärsinkö paremmin yhteiskunnan, tapojen ja seurapiirien piikittelyä ja irvailua, vai olenko vain päässyt paremmin sisään vuosisadan vaihteen maailmaan. Pidin tästä kolmannesta osasta oikeastaan eniten. Tämä on niin herkullinen, että tekisi mieli aloittaa heti alusta uudelleen. Erja Manto lukee ihanasti huikean hienosti käännettyä Proustin kiehtovaa tekstiä. Onneksi tätä on vielä seitsemän osaa jäljellä ja aivan ilmaiseksi YLE Areenassa!
En tiedä ymmärsinkö paremmin yhteiskunnan, tapojen ja seurapiirien piikittelyä ja irvailua, vai olenko vain päässyt paremmin sisään vuosisadan vaihteen maailmaan. Pidin tästä kolmannesta osasta oikeastaan eniten. Tämä on niin herkullinen, että tekisi mieli aloittaa heti alusta uudelleen. Erja Manto lukee ihanasti huikean hienosti käännettyä Proustin kiehtovaa tekstiä. Onneksi tätä on vielä seitsemän osaa jäljellä ja aivan ilmaiseksi YLE Areenassa!
February 3, 2022
L'any passat vaig llegir "Combray" i em va fascinar. Ara bé, el segon volum, sobre l'amor de Swann no em va agradar de la mateixa manera i, amb aquest darrer, m'ha passat el mateix. Jo ho atribueixo al contingut d'aquests dos darrers volums (parla d'amor i de les relacions amb les dones d'una manera massa melodramàtica i enganxosa pel meu gust). Que la matèria sigui empastifosa fa que la forma no llueixi de la mateixa manera i, així com a "Combray" la prosa de Proust em va semblar que equilibrava perfectament ornament i agilitat, en parlar d'Odette i Gilberte les frases es tornen sovint barrocament llargues i cauen en comparacions bizantines que no duen enlloc.
Dit això, és un llibre boníssim incomparable amb la resta dels que he llegit, evidentment.
Dit això, és un llibre boníssim incomparable amb la resta dels que he llegit, evidentment.
March 7, 2023
Treći deo serijala U potrazi za izgubljenim vremenom (sedam delova u originalu, u našem prevodu dvanaest).
Marsel je od detinjstva bolovao od asme sa komplikacijama drugih organa, ali je uvek želeo da postane pisac. Njegova bolest ga je veoma ograničavala u normalnom življenju. U ovom delu čuveni gospodin Svan je ipak oženio Odetu i s njom dobio ćerku Žilbertu sa kojom Marsel provodi dečačke dane na Jelisejskim poljima. Bolest ga ograničava od jurcanja po livadama pa se zato njihovo druženje prebacuje na kućne uslove.
Postepeno njihovo druženje prelazi u ljubav, s njegove strane. I tu su stranice i stranice njegove opsesije sa Žilbertom, a ponekad i sa gospođom Svan, bez tačke i zareza po nekoliko stranica. Ljubav mu nije bila uzvraćena, možda je zato postao homoseksualac.
January 27, 2025
Proust's masterpiece so far. This is the most beautiful volume yet. The way he talks about the collapse of love, aestheticism and the difference between Paris and provincial society is stunning. I really related to the narrator's feelings of confusion around his relationships, to the point that this novel made me cry more than once. It was as if Proust had been inside my head in those moments of tentative romantic feeling. He writes of that with such universality, such unmitigated honesty that I think it might just be the perfect novel.
Proust is life, it is everything.
Someone else on here said it feels like once you start reading Proust it seems as if you've been reading him forever. It's like an old hat you can put on, always sure its going to fit comfortably.
Proust is life, it is everything.
Someone else on here said it feels like once you start reading Proust it seems as if you've been reading him forever. It's like an old hat you can put on, always sure its going to fit comfortably.
October 29, 2017
I did not feel that Within a Budding Grove ever enchanted me the way that Swann's Way, the first section of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past, did. It took me months to finish, and I was bored by this section. The author's recounting of his adolescence, even his love for Gilberte, seemed oddly detached, affected, and more like the emotions of an elderly man obsessed with a young girl. There were moments, but it failed to keep my interest.
June 17, 2018
Part two finished, five to go!
It is my intention to finish the entire work but I need a break for now.
The character of "Marcel" in his adolescence begins to seem really tiresome and the novel at times tedious. Impressive as it is, not always pleasurable.
My edition is a two volume set of the entire work published by Random House. The English translation is the original by Scott Moncrieff. Expect some English slang and references for the benefit of comprehension.
It is my intention to finish the entire work but I need a break for now.
The character of "Marcel" in his adolescence begins to seem really tiresome and the novel at times tedious. Impressive as it is, not always pleasurable.
My edition is a two volume set of the entire work published by Random House. The English translation is the original by Scott Moncrieff. Expect some English slang and references for the benefit of comprehension.
May 9, 2021
Kahden ensimmäisen niteen välillä ehti kulua lähes kolme vuotta, toisen ja kolmannen välillä enää vuosi. Seuraavaan toivottavasti menee vielä vähemmän, Proustin klassinen nostalgiatrippihän on kuitenkin kertakaikkisen hurmaava. Ehkä pelottaa, että ajatukset eivät pysy riittävästi kasassa tehdäkseen oikeutta puolen sivun mittaisille virkkeille, mutta ehkä se ei tässä kirjassa lopulta ole aivan niin keskeistä.
May 5, 2019
a hole book dedicated to two dinner parties and a stroll in the town... this is challenging...
November 30, 2020
Magnificent reading experience. You did it again, Marcel.
August 3, 2023
imagine writing a whole novel about a situationship
November 30, 2023
Marselova bolest.
February 16, 2021
This one was mostly about the joys and sorrows of the narrator’s young love to Gilberte, and other peculiar characters and relations that played a role around it, most importantly that of the narrator and Gilberte’s mother, Mrs Swann.
November 8, 2012
Although I loved Swann's Way, the first section of Proust's epic, Remembrance of Things Past, I was really bored by most of the second section, Within a Budding Grove. The new unabridged audiobook was lovingly produced, with flawless narration but, in an unabridged form, the material does not hold by interest. When the author described his life as a child, in Swann's Way, his imagery was beautiful and mesmerizing. The author's life as a young man is much less attractive, although his mind is very keen and philosophical. Within a Budding Grove, Proust depicts a man who is becoming a physical and mental invalid. Moreover, he has become sexually corrupt (frequenting whores) but fails to understand how unattractive that makes him to his young girl friend. He became a tiresome old man before his time.
January 5, 2023
Llegir Proust requereix un esforç, sens dubte, però és una experiència lectora que no té parió.
Un estímul a prosseguir en la tasca de la seva lectura és poder-ho llegir en una traducció catalana tan acurada i entenedora alhora com la d’en Josep Mª Pinto.
Un estímul a prosseguir en la tasca de la seva lectura és poder-ho llegir en una traducció catalana tan acurada i entenedora alhora com la d’en Josep Mª Pinto.
March 15, 2012
Funny. Better than Swann's Way. Vintage classics, 1970.
September 21, 2014
roughly 1,200 pages into the 3,600 strong epic, I am very much enjoying it.
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