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In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust

In Search of Lost Time

by Marcel Proust

Other authors: See the other authors section.

Series: In Search of Lost Time (1-7)

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2,664322,235 (4.51)1 / 281

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English (24)  Italian (3)  Danish (2)  French (2)  German (1)  All (32)
Showing 1-5 of 24 (next | show all)
Sorry Monsieur Proust. I have to abandon thee. Your, eventually rewarding (no doubt) but gargantuan 4,200 page novel is beyond currently adapted attention spans.
Oh! Don't look at me like that ( )
  Mumu2073 | Dec 30, 2016 |
I do not mean to sound snobbish, but I can’t imagine Marcel Proust read in any other language but French... Reading Proust’s “A la Recherche du Temps Perdu” is like watching Vermeer or el Greco paint one of their masterpieces—I don’t know how else to explain its sublimeness. Proust had a talent with words, they were like clay in his hands, they became alive and pulsated with meaning. I remember reading his book and being forced to stop frequently, in order to breath in the extreme beauty of the phrases he crafted. I have never read another author who made me feel the same way. Read it and get carried away to another world! ( )
1 vote MrsRK | Nov 21, 2016 |
I can't say I'm the hardest reader and I don't think that I could anytime soon but I can say that In Search Of Lost Time is the most mature book I've ever read. Yes. Mature. Not in the explicit way of mature, the grown-up way of mature. I think that's a better adjective for In Search Of Lost Time. Not good, not great, not funny or philosophical... Mature is the only adjective that I felt really fit the book.

In this matchless piece of art, Marcel Proust shows no mercy nor rush. He just throws piles of long, confusing sentences at you, sometimes getting completely away from the subject,and goes away leaving you alone with all the thinking you have to do. You forget what was the last thing happened when you read one of those paragraphs. In the beginning, I was afraid of those big piles of sentences. And then I started falling in love with them, let them take me away to places where I could only travel to in the still of the night or with the melody of a good old Pink Floyd song and just, leave me there. I remember spending more than a half of my hour of reading just thinking about one paragraph and what it offered. I was looking forward to the paragraphs that I've been avoiding. They were marvelous.

In Search Of Lost Time offers a lot of thinking opportunities for everyone willing to.

I started reading the book in a time that my life was full of indecisions. I thought that I was old enough to shape my view of the world. Because life, in my opinion, was too short to postpone and without a certain world view to base my thoughts and decisions upon, there was no way of enjoying our short lives to the finest. So far, In Search Of Lost Time helped me feel better about my decisions and thoughts in human relationships. Helped me get rid of one of the worst feelings, indecision.

I'm pretty confident that In Search Of Lost Time is different than any other piece of written art.
In Search Of Lost Time is the Pink Floyd of books for me. The one that offers the unexpected, the one that doesn't seek for absolution, ingratiation or adoption, the one that doesn't need you and the one you only need to reach your selfish goals of existance.

In Search Of Lost Time will bore and tire you, make you question everything you know, and not in a good way... Unless you want it. To really let this book help you, you need to slowly embrace it because it's no book of rush, you need to step ahead one at a time until you truly understand the book, and then take what you want, what you think you want, what you know you want. Because Marcel Proust didn't write In Search Of Time to be consumed like a piece of dull "art" and be forgotten into the void of the existance that isn't useful anymore. In Search Of Time is the book that we will remember until the last second of our poor, short lives. ( )
2 vote LoveExchange | Sep 3, 2016 |
This was my second time reading In Search of Time Lost. The first time took me a while and was not without its starts and stops. I found on the second turn though that I could read it all the way through. How much more there is to gain from revisiting such a work! It only seems fitting that one would re-read a work built around remembrance such that when starting afresh it touches of the familiar.

If you are looking for entertainment this is not going to be for you. Given its scope very little actually happens. The wonder in Proust is in the way he is able to craft a sentence. These sentences can drive you made at times with their elegance and frustrate you to no end in their complexity. Nothing is wasted. Proust acknowledges his own inability to capture certain particulars. You do not get very fine depictions of people. Rather you get a distilled version of their essence. It is not about what one says or does but how one goes about performing a task. It is these subtleties that create the impressions that are so painstakingly composed and create a martyr out of the most insignificant of characters. In this sense, as Proust himself says, “Now that Olympus no longer exists, its inhabitants dwell upon the earth. And when, in composing a mythological scene, painters have engaged to pose as Venus or Ceres young women of the people following the humblest callings, so far from committing sacrilege they have merely added or restored to them the quality, the divine attributes of which they have been stripped.”

One of the most striking motifs for me in this work lies in Proust’s elucidation on how we are forever irrevocably cut off from each other. No matter how hard we try it is impossible to ever fully penetrate into and know another person. Love has more to do with how a person flatters our own sensibilities than it does with communion. I see Proust as an antidote to those people who suffer from a love lost, since this work shows how subjective love is and that the possession, which is the only thing that could satisfy our desire for a person, is the very thing that will dispel the illusion. We are condemned to our own selves. Only through art are we able to experience other subjectivities.
( )
1 vote PhilSroka | Apr 12, 2016 |
In Search of Lost Time is written in the style of a memoir and makes one speculate whether it is in fact the author's memoir. The 7 volumes cover various stages of narrator Marcel's (not the author Marcel) life. Along the way we are introduced to a range of characters whose qualities seem to change from one book to the next. The book is filled with observations about memory, love, human nature, and relationships between the real and the imagined (between life and art).

This was a long and challenging read in particular due to the long sentence structure and lack of plot (e.g. a lot of observations and musings). The difficulty was in reading this was due to it's seemingly meandering structure with little plot line to tie it all together.

In reading this I was at times bored, other times amused and charmed, and other times annoyed, but most of all I was impressed. It took me a few volumes to really start to recognize what I thought was some of the brilliance in this book. There are passages that are truly brilliant and the connections he builds and the way he gets to his final message was very clever (in my opinion). Why do characters change so much? Why is it that we never quite know the age of the narrator at any given moment? What is the connection between the two ways (life vs. art/imagination)? These are all questions that he answers at the end of the book and make it all worth the effort in struggling through the seemingly rambling parts of this book. ( )
  JenPrim | Jan 15, 2016 |
Showing 1-5 of 24 (next | show all)

» Add other authors (114 possible)

Author nameRoleType of authorWork?Status
Proust, Marcelprimary authorall editionsconfirmed
Bloom, HaroldIntroductionsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Blossom, Frederick AugustusTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Enright, DJTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Fischer, Bernd-JürgenÜbersetzersecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Keller, LuziusTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Kilmartin, TerenceTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Matic, PeterNarratorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Moncrieff, C.K. ScottTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Rechel-Mertens, EvaTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Tadié, Jean-Yvessecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
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For a long time, I would go to bed early. [Fr., Longtemps, je me suis couche de bonne heure.]
Information from the Norwegian Common Knowledge. Edit to localize it to your language.
Hvis min bestefar da trengte å påkalles søstrenes oppmerksomhet, måtte han gripe til slike kraftige signaler som sinnssykeleger bruker overfor visse distré manikere: en serie skarpe slag med knivbladet mot glasset, ledsaget av inntrengende henvendelser med stemmen og blikket - voldsomme midler som psykiaterne ofte overfører på sine forbindelser med friske menneske, enten det nu skyldes inngrodd profesjonell vane eller det er fordi de mener at alle mennesker er litt gale.
I virkeligheten hadde hun aldri kunnet beslutte seg til å kjøpe noe som ikke kunne gi et åndelig utbytte, og helst da et slikt utbytte som kunstverk gir, ved å åpne vårt sinn for gleder som ikke har sin kilde i tilfredsstillelsen av et materielt eller forfengelig behov.
Men nu som min angst var bragt til ro, forstod jeg den ikke lenger; dessuten var det ennu lang tid til i morgen; jeg sa til meg selv at jeg ville ha nok av tid til å tenke over det, enskjønt denne tiden ikke ville kunne tilføre meg noen kraft som jeg nu ikke hadde, for det dreier seg om ting som var uavhengig min vilje; og om jeg i øyeblikket hadde en flyktig fornemmelse av å kunne unngå dem, var det utelukkende på grunn av det tidsrom som ennu adskilte meg fra dem.
'Monsieur, jeg er ute av stand til å si Dem hvorvidt det har regnet eller ikke. Jeg lever så fullstendig utenfor enhver fysisk betingethet at mine sanser ikke lenger gjør seg den umake å informere meg om det.'
Da hun var helt blottet for kultur og var redd for at hennes sprog skulle røbe dette pinlige faktum, uttalte hun med vilje alle ord så utydelig at hennes tale lød som en eneste lang og uforståelig harking, hvor man bare kunne skjelne enkelte korte ord som hun følte seg sikker på. På den måten trodde hun at alle feil ble omhyllet med så meget tåke at ingen ville feste seg ved dem.
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Book description
L'edizione comprende i sette romanzi della "Recherche" nella prestigiosa traduzione di Giovanni Raboni, e il volume "Sulla lettura", una rievocazione di Proust delle proprie esperienze di lettore, corredato di un'appendice di "Immagini proustiane" a cura di A. L. Zazo.

Dalla parte di Swann; La parte di Guermantes; All'ombra delle fanciulle in fiore; Sodoma e Gomorra; La Prigioniera; Albertine scomparsa; Il Tempo ritrovato; Sulla lettura.

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Amazon.com Product Description (ISBN 0812969642, Paperback)

For this authoritative English-language edition, D. J. Enright has revised the late Terence Kilmartin’s acclaimed reworking of C. K. Scott Moncrieff’s translation to take into account the new definitive French editions of À la recherche du temps perdu (the final volume of these new editions was published by the Bibliothèque de la Pléiade in 1989).

(retrieved from Amazon Thu, 12 Mar 2015 18:19:51 -0400)

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