In Search of Lost Time

The Evergreen State College

Author: vanhal02

Close Reading: The Fugitive pages 754-758

Haley VandenHazel

In Search of Lost Time

Close Reading

14 May 2015

To begin, I think it’s noteworthy to remember that this edition of The Fugitive is not only written by Proust but translated and revised by others. Initially I found this aggravating that Proust’s death stopped him from making the final edits of his last three volumes. But then I think maybe it would have been his last laugh; giving us yet another layer or perspective to sort through. After a bit of research, I found that the most recent edition of the title is Albertine Disparu; which translated into English means Albertine Gone. Obviously, our translation today has rather translated the initial title. In an online Geocity archive, the author quotes, “On a fairly superficial level, the title chosen by the translators may seem misleading: it is only for the first few dozen pages that we think that Albertine has run away. But then both the French title and The Fugitive have a deeper meaning, as the narrator’s memories of his lover begin to disappear from his imagination, becoming fugitive thoughts.”[1]

When it comes to the themes in Proust, they all seem to be facilitated through the narrator’s experiences with love. In my analysis of the narrator’s comprehensive view of love; I believe he would say that love is good in that it is beautiful, breath-taking, motivating, gratifying, and exhilarating. And that love is bad in that is horrifying, painful, destructive, and all-consuming. But more than anything, the narrator would say that it is strong and it is enduring; leaving an impact on the way one sees the world forever. But like everything, it is ever-moving and ever-changing. All of this movement appears to contribute to the theme between The Captive and The Fugitive. There seems to be this ebb and flow between enduring and overcoming his loss. We see progress then we see retreat; “I did not understand any better than before why Albertine had left me” (837).

Up to this volume, we see loves acceleration, now; at last, such as a patient taking their first breath, preceding their arrival out of a coma, we are finally able to see the first genuine signs of a deceleration of love. As one could imagine, in the Proustian world, love dies hard. But bit by bit we see the narrator being restored to emotional stability; or as he would say “returning to the state of indifference” (754).

At the beginning of The Fugitive, I was most compelled by the way Proust explains the act of forgetting, healing, and letting-go through objectivity, imagery, and most prominently through a system of moving entities. There seems to be no limit to the different forms that Proust uses to portray these concepts.

On page 754, the narrator explains that moving on is not always an act of moving forward. “And if returning to the state of indifference from which one started, one cannot avoid covering in the reverse direction the distances one had traversed in order to arrive at love” (754). He is sure to point out that, the big difference is that “they do not necessarily take the same routes” (754).

On the bottom of page 755, the narrator compares his love to the arrangement of music notes as he quotes, “And now, aware that, day by day, one element after another of my love was vanishing, the jealous side of it, then some other, drifting gradually back in a vague remembrance to the first tentative beginnings, it was my love that, in the scattered notes of the little phrase, I seemed to see disintegrating before my eyes” (756). This takes us back to Swann in love when the “little phrase” was resembled or reminded Swann of falling in love with Odette.

In the middle of page 757, we see a beautiful picture of a spirit. “Once again, as when I had ceased to see Gilberte, the love of women arose in me, relieved of any exclusive associations with a particular woman already loved, and floated like those essences that have been liberated by previous destructions and stray suspended in the springtime air, asking only to be reunited with a new creature” (757).

At the top of page 758, Proust describes the movement in and the movement out to which, “all of them seemed to me Albertines” (758).  At the bottom of page 758, Proust explains this added weight to his heart.

I think this idea of movement is really important but I am finding it complex to comprehend how exactly it relates to memory. I’ve considered that I am potentially missing the entire point that Proust is trying to make, or I just won’t understand until the end. Movement is clearly important. The biggest correlation I am currently seeing is that time is a continuously flowing duration. What is Proust trying to say through all of this? Habit and time seem to pain the narrator and strip him of life’s joy and beauty when he is falling in love… do they now aid him as he tries to get over Albertine? Is Proust seeing goodness in his greatest enemies? Is he appreciating the comfort of moving not up with pleasure or down with pain but straight with indifference?

 

[1] “OoCities – Geocities Archive / Geocities Mirror.” OoCities – Geocities Archive / Geocities Mirror. Oocities, Oct. 2009. Web. 14 May 2015.

Unfixed Identity

Reading Proust has been helping me so much as I continue to explore my identity!!!

I used to ask literally all day…Who am I? What am I about? Why do I feel like some people don’t understand me? Why would one person say I am this way when I am not? Do I even understand me?  Questions like that and millions more. And it’s not that I don’t ask those questions anymore but I just ask them differently with the understanding that although the exploration of identity is important, we are all a part of something so much bigger than ourselves and with the understanding that my personal identity is unfixed.

As for one’s personal identity… I have no idea if I will ever “know who I am” or what that would even consist of but I have been grappling with the idea that there is no such thing as a fixed self or a fixed identity. It is not stagnant.

I’ve studied a little bit of James Marcia’s theory about identity and it basically supports this “unfixed” idea. We all get to identity achievement but then “disequilibrium” occurs and a period of re-construction begins. During this period a person may regress to an earlier identity status. It is crucial that old constructs fall so that new ones that are more encompassing of the person’s identity may be constructed. In the re-construction process there is still continuity with the previous identity, however the newer construction is broadened to include new life experiences and commitments. Which is totally cool this intertwining between our previous identities and new identities. At every moment we are moving in a direction; at least every conscious moment. Habit or our “unconscious” moments may be the exception. I am still not entirely understanding this but as I read more Proust… I think I might haaha. But anyways yeah. Unfixed identity. I believe one of the biggest preventions to growth is when we are who we are today trying to be who we were yesterday. We can’t be afraid of letting ourselves change… even if who we find is unfamiliar.

This “unfixed identity” idea, in some ways, seems like common sense but it’s not as easy to accept as you would think. Its been really hard for me to understand. For example, the idea for my final paper for this class started by looking at the reasons that so many people are getting divorced. I have found that the whole, “he/she is not the person he/she used to be” is a thing! In Tim Keller’s, “The Meaning of Marriage” there is a quote in there that says, “Marriage is learning to love the stranger to whom you find yourself married.” We have to be aware of the fact that we and others are constantly changing, shifting, moving and helping/hoping others are changing for the good as we strive to do the same.

Week 4: My Greener Experience thus far, the brilliant Mr. Proust, and Miley Cyrus

I have always asked myself… “How can I do the bare minimum to get an A”? Not because I am lazy but because I have always done sports, music, and been involved in church. I would have to prioritize what assignments I have to actually do, what lectures I have to actually pay attention to, etc. etc. Because that’s what you do when your life is in a constant time crunch. And I wouldn’t have it any other way I suppose. Recently I just agreed to take on a new leadership position as Worship Leader at a churchJ I am so thankful for it but it also means less time to do homework. So I did what I know to do… which is sit down and reprioritize how I am going to be using my now limited time for school. But I don’t think that’s going to work (at least not the same as it did at other schools). Of course putting a list together of our assignments I could say that I should focus on the final essay, journals, and interacting during discussions. But truthfully, I want to interact with it all! I love the Proust book and I actually enjoy the discussions.

Evergreen, and the way it teaches one to critically think, to actually engage, to blend subjects (because that’s actually how life works)… I think it’s brilliant. Sometimes I walk away from class with something distasteful in my mouth… but I think it’s just a little dust on account of my walls falling down. I don’t think everything in my life needs to be so pleasantly tasteful (if you couldn’t tell from my incredibly untasteful prose).

As for the Proust… his work continues to move me. To confuse me. To challenge me. I find myself searching for the truth I perceive that Proust holds and so slowly reveals to us. It has been a healing book for me as I can personally relate to so much of it. Having anxiety and getting over someone I loved have been two of my biggest struggles in life. The narrator and Swann so accurately live these struggles; indulging in the moments of freedom from them and feeling every ounce of the uncontrollability and lack of control these struggles bring into one’s life. Proust, or at least the characters he has created, have been wonderful and relatable friends to me. It’s true that you get to know book characters on such a deeper level than most human beings. Unfortunately they don’t listen to me when I have something to say. Well at least you guys do.

It bothered me when we had that discussion about the pay-off of Proust. Or maybe bothered is the wrong word… I just don’t relate. “It’s the climb” people! Cause I know Miley Cyrus is a credible source. But I guess I am just getting SO MUCH out of Proust so far… I can’t even imagine that a hurrah moment at the end could be better than the several little hurrah moments I have already experienced throughout.

So yeah… I guess I am going to keep going. No doubt I will have to compromise things and stuff but I’m going to give it my best.

To giving it our best! Cheers classmates.

Week 3: Not my Type

Last week in Seminar we discussed Swann’s obsession with Odette. At the beginning of the novel he thinks her ugly. As he falls in love with her; he begins to construct or see her as beautiful. After she falls out of love with him, becomes more aware of her past, and recognizes that his love for her has turned into an obsession, he finally admits that this is hurting him. The last part of Swann’s way is Swann making a conscious effort to stop loving Odette. I applaud his efforts but they don’t seem to heal much of his inner turmoil.

One thing he attempts to do is to “reconstruct” her into his first glimpse of her. If he could just view her the way he had originally maybe he could break the enchantment. So he tries to dwell on her negative physical features. The problem with this is he knows that his love for her goes far deeper than physical attraction.

The conclusion I have come to is that whoever we love becomes our “type”. Love breaks our assumptions.

Obsession and its Power

One of my favorite parts of reading Proust is he succeeds in putting words to seemingly unexplainable experiences or thoughts. I have always been fascinated by the virtue of self-control. We exercise it all the time; as our sense of what should be done is often different from what we feel like doing. After Swann has acknowledged that his obsession with Odette is unhealthy; he attempts to control, rationalize, and suppress his addiction to her.

I think a 12 step recovery program would be great for Swann. The first step is admitting that you are powerless to overcome your addiction. He goes back and forth between awareness and denial of his unfortunate situation. On page 436 he has decided to not deny his visits to see Odette because, “having proved to himself-or so at least he believed- that he was so easily capable of resisting it, he no longer saw any danger in postponing a plan of separation.” Basically, here he believes that he has the power to resist Odette.

On page 438 we see Swann trying to convince himself that Odette is not as alluring as he thinks she is. “It’s an odd thing, but I actually thought her ugly.” For a second he believes himself. But regardless of how she looks, his love for Odette runs so much deeper than appearance.

On page 448, Swann is obsessing over where Odette had gone… again. The narrator comes in to say that that if we hold information in our minds (in this case Swann knowing where Odette had gone) we can “dispose of them as we choose, and gives us the illusion of a sort of power over them.” This is super interesting. The justifications that feed obsession are, at the core, illusions of power.

 

Swann’s Aesthetic Taste

I was fascinated by Swann’s opinions about a woman’s appearance. “His desires had always run counter to his aesthetic taste” (317). In the past, Swann had pursed women that did not resemble his favorite paintings. “Depth of character, or melancholy expression would freeze his senses, which were, however, instantly aroused at the sight of healthy, abundant, rosy flesh” (271).

As Swann falls in love with Odette everything changes. He begins to obsess with the fact that Odette resembles a Botticelli painting of Jethro’s Daughter. This, “similarly enhanced her beauty, also, and made her more precious” (316).

I think more than anything Proust reveals yet another mystery of love. Whoever we fall in love with begins to embody our “ideal attractive”. Of course, this might not be true for everyone; it is true of my personal experience and seemingly Swann’s here.

Earlier in Combray, in the narrator’s dreams he imagines Mme de Guermantes to be physically stunning. When he sees her he is instantly disappointed and finds her repelling. Then he decides that she isn’t ugly, just different than he had imagined.  In the next couple pages he proceeds to reconstruct her beauty in his mind. “And at once I fell in love with her” (250). The narrator had succeeded in completely changing his previous idea.

I have constantly been trying to figure out the difference between the character of Swann and the Narrator. It seems that the narrator has an easier time adjusting his preconceived notions. Swann has a hard time recovering or adjusting.

Haley’s Turning Point Essay

Haley VandenHazel

In Search of Lost Time

Turning Point Essay

4-5-15

There are specific moments in our life that spark personal growth and divert our path. These often occur to us so gradually that, “even if we are able to distinguish, successively, each of its different states, we are still spared the actual sensation of change” (Proust, 117). The sensation was the coffee.

It happened the first time as I was sitting in the living room on the plushy white couch waiting for my brother. As usual, the whole family had arrived on-time and we all sat in a maddened silence. “Get downstairs for family meeting” my mom howled at my brother who would eventually grace us with his presence several minutes later. As to save me from the exasperated worry about homework getting done and the promise these meetings always gave of conflict without resolution, my dad offered me a drink of his black coffee. Taking my role seriously as the mature eldest child, I accepted the test. I will never forget the playful glimmer my dad’s eyes and the humorous eruption that followed as I squinted up my face in utter repulsion. If I would have known these looks from my dad would become unwonted occurrences, that one day very soon he would stop looking at me like that, I might have endured the entire mug.

It happened again one beautiful spring day in Eugene, Oregon, a couple years later. My best friend and I had decided to go to “Tall Frappuccino Day” at Starbucks to celebrate our last day together before summer break.  After waiting in line for twenty minutes, apparently Chelsea ordered a Soy, Green Tea, Trenti, Frappuccino. After the drink had been created she gave me that contemptible guise that had served as the pinnacle of my utmost irascibility that year. Not only had she failed to bring her wallet, she hadn’t paid attention to the fact that she was supposed to order a tall Frappuccino, and she had ordered some ridiculously overpriced drink. In this moment, I realized that she was my absolute foil in the sense of responsibility but she had, within herself, what I did not. She had a way with people, an infectious personality that drew people to want to know her. She was just irresponsible enough to bring fun and spontaneity to my life. This experience was but an extension of the running joke that she owed me like 300 dollars; of which payments have yet to be collected.

Coffee was a part of my image when I became a hipster but then soon rejected when I became a real hipster. Coffee made me believe that we are all just telling ourselves that it tastes good, when it actually doesn’t; an example of a major conspiracy theory of mine. Coffee was the morally sound option to keep me from becoming an alcoholic. Coffee was the place for friendship and the mentorship; the drink of choice to be paired with the most beautiful and truthful words ever spoken to me. Coffee was the big white escape from vulnerability; the cup of emotional separation between two people. Coffee was the friend that kept me feeling affirmed, energized, and alive; simple but complex, always consistent. Coffee was always paired with overcoming my own perfectionism, my own close-mindedness, my own obsession with binding repetition and structure. Coffee helped me see other people, in their imperfections, as redeemed by God, precious, and worthy of love. It turns out coffee was actually none of these. Nonetheless, I have become intimately attached.

Works Cited

Proust, M. (2003). Combray. In In Search of Lost Time (Vol. 1, p. 117). Random House