If you haven’t figured out by name, I’m relatively obsessed with names and etymologies. I can remember way way back carrying my Petit Robert around to look words up. But the name Vinteuil has been stubborn as hell- refusing to come to the light. At a certain point I resigned myself to the annoying Continue reading “Vinteuil- at long last I grok you!”
An Exercise: Nom de Plume, Nom de Guerre
I’m always thinking of the idea of Place Names: the Name. If I were to choose the path of reductive thinking, I might see it in terms of pens and swords.
Nom de Plume is Swann’s Way. Nom de Guerre is the way of the Guermantes.
I don’t really believe this, as I think such bipolar thinking is not at all Proustian. The two paths are in reality one and the same, as we know from the famous passage on The Two Ways. Continue reading “An Exercise: Nom de Plume, Nom de Guerre”
A fork in the road: Forcheville
He’s not just the other one. You know, the one that Odette went off with, forsaking Swann. No, Forcheville is the prime contender for the Place Name: The Name award, his name in and of itself a place, or rather the idea of place. Also the idea of Continue reading “A fork in the road: Forcheville”
You say Combray, I say Cambrai
Even though I’m not French I get it. The sound of an ‘o’ in a French word is nothing like the sound of an ‘a.’ So you say it’s Combray and I say but maybe it could be Cambrai. And then you ask me if I’m nuts. And I say well I’m not French, but… Continue reading “You say Combray, I say Cambrai”
Isn’t a little phrase an Ode-ette?
Now what would MP be up to, calling Swann’s lover Odette? Ode – some kind of poem-ish form. But diminished. a diminutive ode. An Odette. So basically a phrase. But a little one. A little ode.
I’m not saying there isn’t a little phrase in a piece of music written by M. Vinteuil and played… Continue reading “Isn’t a little phrase an Ode-ette?”
Tante Léonie is a beast
Tante Leonie’s the domestic ‘lioness’ looking out from her room ‘tower’ over the village square of Combray and observing the comings and goings.
To my mind, she’s the beast. Akin to the Lion of St. Mark overlooking the square in Venice, she’s the one who facilitates the dipping of the Madeleine in tea that sets everything moving. Young Marcel dips the biscuit in tea… Continue reading “Tante Léonie is a beast”
Ceci n’est pas un Swann de Combray
Meet Le cygne de Cambrai: Francois Fenelon. He’s a French archbishop from the late 1600’s who somehow took on the sobriquet The Swan of Cambrai. And could possibly, just possibly, have served as inspiration for the Swann of Combray front and center in Swann’s Way.
It could be nothing more than that. Just a simple borrowing of… Continue reading “Ceci n’est pas un Swann de Combray”
Silly Bergotte and his little patch of yellow wall
He repeated to himself: “Little patch of yellow wall, with a sloping roof, little patch of yellow wall.”
What is it about the death of Bergotte, poor Bergotte, that makes me love him so much? Yes, it’s his indigestion, and his silly little mantra about the patch of yellow wall. in Vermeer’s View of Delft. Continue reading “Silly Bergotte and his little patch of yellow wall”
Saint Marcel, author of the book
Okay, a word about all the church stuff. Archbishops, saints, churches, resurrection.
I’m not proselytizing here. I’m talking in a fictional sense. And I think the same could be said for Continue reading “Saint Marcel, author of the book”
Illiers-Combray lolol
My son sometimes says something I’ve done is cringe, and I mean no harm to Illiers when I say this (though I hate when he says it to me!) but I do find it a bit that. Of course the town’s the real deal, and yes I’ve been there and it’s charming, but a name… Continue reading “Illiers-Combray lolol”