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80 of 82 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
One of the great pleasures of middle age, August 10, 2001
Fortunately, I was never assigned Proust in school and, prior to picking up Swann's Way, knew of Proust mainly through a Monty Python sketch. I thus came to the book with almost no preconceptions. It was, without exaggerration, one of the best reading experiences I have ever had. Proust is unlike any other novelist, somehow looking at life with both incredible analytical detachment and, at the same time, a neurotic coloring that is all his own. But, to fully appreciate this work, you have to take it at the right time. That time, for me at least, is middle age, when you begin to accept your own neuroses, when your own life consists of 50% memories, and when you can appreciate the relentless dissecting of the immortal "types" who inhabit every society. I have gone on to read the next two novels in Proust's series and now have to force myself not to consume the remainder too hastily. Even if Proust turns you off the first time around, wait ten years and try again.
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96 of 100 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Duelling Translations, November 15, 2003
Those of us who love Proust - either from long acquaintance, or from reading him for the very first time - can count ourselves fortunate in now having two very fine English translations to work from: the classic Moncrieff/Kilmartin rendition of the complete novel, and the new Lydia Davis translation of "Swann's Way." I've read and enjoyed both, because each brings something special and valuable to the work.Davis is a breath of fresh air, being more literal (while still literary!) in that she follows the original French syntax and meaning more closely. I liked her translation, and applaud it. Normally, such a fine translation would be my first choice. However - and I admit this is a very subjective judgement - I was long ago seduced by the sheer beauty of Moncrieff/Kilmartin, and therefore cannot love the Davis translation quite so much. Of all authors, Proust requires us to surrender to the beauty of his language. Davis' translation is, for me, more likeable than loveable. Really, it's an old (and impossible to resolve!) conflict between the more literal and the more "poetic" type of translation. I've dealt with this myself, in trying to translate Baudelaire, and there's no perfect answer. One thing I'd suggest (if you haven't read MK) is to get the MK translation of Swann's Way, now available in a very inexpensive paperback, along with Davis so that you can get a feel for both ways of appreciating Proust's great and magnificent work.
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35 of 36 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
One of the great masterworks of world literature, April 24, 2003
We apply "classic" and "masterpiece" too liberally, but regardless of how loosely or strictly we deploy the terms, Marcel's Proust's extraordinary novel belongs to the shortest of short lists deserving such description. At the risk of hyperbole (though I do not thing it is hyperbolic), Proust is the one writer of the 20th century who perhaps belongs to the ages more than to his own time, who belongs with Shakespeare and Dante and Homer. Many are put off Proust by not understanding the structure of his work and his writing strategy. The book, to many, seems to have no point and no plot. The novel actually does have a plot, albeit a simple and not easy to discern one: Will the narrator (usually termed "Marcel") become a writer? Through seven long volumes, we watch Marcel variously resolve to write and then forsake his resolve, we see him even forget for enormous lengths of time his intent to write. Through love affairs, through events with his friends, through reflections on all matter of subjects and experiences of every kind, Marcel finally comes in the final volume to rediscover his vocation and the subject of his work. This first volume in the series contains many of the most famous episodes in all of Proust. The famous passage in which the Narrator tells of his not being able to fall asleep as a child is found in the first pages. The most famous section in all of Proust, that of his eating as an adult a madeleine that first creates an inexplicable sense of joy and then engenders a plethora of involuntary memories of his childhood, is also found in this volume. The second half is the remarkable story of "Swann in Love," in which family friend Charles Swann falls in love, much to his surprise, with the courtesan Odette. This first volume glitters for the same reason that subsequent volumes do: Proust's remarkable sentences, in which he heaps phrase upon apt phrase on top of a carefully concealed central idea; Proust's extraordinarily complex, interesting, believable, and brilliant characters (I personally think he handles character better than any other author); and the wonderful passion and sensibility that permeates every page. I will end with a piece of advice: Proust, more than any writer I know, gives back as much as you point into him. If you expend a great deal of effort in working through his masterpiece, you will be comparably rewarded. If, on the other hand, you pick up SWANN'S WAY casually, expecting a relaxed, entertaining read, you will be profoundly disappointed. But if you approach him with an open mind, a great deal of patience, and a willingness to work your way carefully through each sentence, you just might believe this to be the most remarkable thing you have ever read.
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