Can You Have Too Much Proust?

 I don't know, can you have too much Proust? I'm closing in on a fourth reading of Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past, which must place in some utterly strange little corner of Americana. It's funny, although not particularly surprising, that our perception of novels or films change over the years. Among the things that jumped out at me on this re-read are: 1) The Guermantes Way is better than I remember (that's the third volume of seven, and usually the one that grinds attempts to read the entire novel into the dust: this is why, when you're at the bookstore, the only volume available is the first, Swann's Way, because many people collapse that early on); 2) Proust is simply a lot funnier with each read, and maybe that's nothing more than the process of naturally getting into the flow of his writing; 3) Albertine is not the only captive in The Captive, the fifty volume - she's joined by Marcel, and the Baron de Charlus, and several other characters, including women, and, to a larger extent, society itself, and 4) there really is a lot of sex in The Fugitive, the sixth volume (I mean, I knew that, but I guess I'm always surprised by it nevertheless) - although all the sex is overwhelmed by Proust's extraordinary writing on loss. 

So, I couldn't possibly be in the mood for more Proust, right? Apparently the answer to that is no. Recently I purchased, and started gently reading, William Carter's biography, Marcel Proust: A Life along with all seven volumes of the new Penguin translation of In Search of Lost Time (the later, and more appropriate translated title, of Remembrance of Things Past). The new translations are supposed to be marvelous, although I don't think I'll tackle it for a couple years on my normal Proustian rotation (he said . . .). I guess I'm going to have to admit to being something of a Proust nut.

I had put off reading a biography of Marcel Proust because, well, isn't that sort of like carrying coals to Newcastle if you've read Remembrance of Things Past? Not entirely, of course, because while there are definite similarities to his life and his society, there's a lot more going on in the novel. Still, some of the similarities are amazing, especially if you've read it a few times and you automatically begin to pair up actual characters with literary ones. Now, I hope this latest reading binge isn't simply my way of avoiding my own writing . . .