27 of 32 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
She almost gets it - NOT!, December 10, 2001
Too bad I couldn't rate this 0 stars because 1 star in one too many. This book is essentially and "hey, look at me and the people I know and the circles I have access to." She misses the whole meaning of Proust. She and everything she stands for is what he mocks.
Not all is lost because this book (if one can call it that) gives me hope that I can get a book published one of these days
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16 of 18 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A candid, funny, down-to-earth, five star scholar..., May 3, 1999
By A Customer
This review is from: The Year of Reading Proust: A Memoir in Real Time (Hardcover)
To me, above and beyond all else, Phyllis Rose's sparkling memoir shows us how certain books come into our lives at certain times--almost as if the books find us, we don't find them. In her narrative, Proust is used as a conceit, allowing her to delve into memory while also telling us about her days, as ordinary, or at times, as extraordinary as they may be. It is not a full-scale memoir ("my birth to present, etc"), but an accounting of a year from her life (we learn that it is actually two years condensed). Memories, we must remember, are always fragmented, uncertain, contradictory; Rose's narrative structure makes this point well. The book reads more like a narrativized version of diary entries, and indeed, at the end of the memoir, Rose comes to the realization that she is, when all is said and done, a diarist and woman of letters, as opposed to, say, a novelist. It is this very strength that makes her book so enjoyable. She is a five-star scholar who is not afraid to be candid in her remarks, or in the use of an almost street-wise colloquial tongue. Her tone and style are completely unpretentious, unapologetic (a revelation in our culture of complaint), and at times, laught-out-loud funny. She does not discuss or reminisce on her years as a teacher, and this one finds refreshing: an academic who readily admits that the life of the body is equally as important (perhaps more so) as the life of the mind; an intellectual who is equally as passionate about material culture, whether antiquities, sports cars, houses, travel, gossip and dinner parties, as the writing life; a feminist who can balance her own forms of activism with trips to her Madison Avenue hairdresser and Saks Fifth Avenue. Readers from the NYC metro area will particularily enjoy her memoir, as it is the landscape of her memory, and the cultural base for her sense of humor. A bibliophile at heart, Rose shows us how good readers make the fictions they read their own, and bring to bear on their own subjectivity lessons learned from the marvelous, difficult, and rewarding world of reading.
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12 of 13 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
A sad disappointment from the author of Parallel Lives, June 22, 2001
By A Customer
After a promising opening chapter, this book proved to be a great disappointment, especially after Parallel Lives -- lots of Proustian detail but to very little point. It's confessional in tone (particularly with reference to the circumstances surrounding her second marriage) but without the insight necessary to make the confession of much interest to anyone else -- as a result, parts of it read like a literary gossip column. Also, as earlier reviewers noted, sloppy spelling and grammatical errors (in my edition anyway) are annoying. I found two points particularly grating -- her comparison of the emergence of the Beatles to the Passion of Christ (both are "transcendent") and her habit of referring to her literary pals as Annie D. and Bob S. It's apparent who they are from the text so why the coy references? It does seem as if this good writer has run out of steam -- I wish this book had really been about reading Proust. I think I would have enjoyed Rose on that subject.
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