Charlottesville Words

Last night I finished Within a Budding Grove, the second volume of In Search of Lost Time. For me, reading Proust is more a project than a pure pleasure, although there is plenty of pleasure to be had in the experience. I take my time, seldom reading more than 50 pages in a sitting, often not completing that many. I try not to worry about not getting the full meaning of every sentence (in fact, I’m sure I’m not). I don’t worry about being bored or baffled. I take lengthy breaks from the text and from the hothouse sensibility of the narrator. And I have at least one or two other books going at the same time for variety.