I just finished reading Proust’s In Search of Lost Time (or Remembrance of Things Past, depending on your translation) tonight, after starting the 4,300-page shebang on February 1.
I thought it’d take me a year to read the whole shebang. At least, that’s what I put in front of myself at the start of this project. Back in college, I thought Proust was meant for one’s middle age, but I really didn’t understand anything about it. I told myself then that someday I’d give myself a year to read it.
Proust and life have both taught me a lot in the past 5+ months. I’m a little too mentally exhausted right now to share it, but it’s been informing everydamnthing I’ve been writing for a while now.
Right now, the official VM fiance and I are going to settle back, have dinner, and watch Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.