at mme swann's: pt 1 of v 2 of in search of lost time

The James Grieve translation was fine. Really. His no fluff approach does make the text very approachable. Does not sound like a ringing endorsement, but I am having difficulty being more enthusiastic after reading the Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition of Swann's Way. I miss Lydia Davis. Difficult to describe the difference. Davis' translation is like being in a warm and comfortable house with sparkling windows open to gentle breezes wafting through. Grieve's translation is like being in a lovely hotel room that visually pleases, but has the disquieting, vague scent of gobs of unknowns who have rested there before you. Lydia Davis is home, and James Grieve is rented accommodations. Best I have for now. But I will pick up the specifics of the translation issues next week when I post on the second half of the book.

In his introduction to the text, Grieve writes that the dominant themes of this second volume of the master work are love, art, society and friendship. I prefer to think of it as just love - a love of love, art, society and friendship. And the sadness that love can bring. And the bitter sweet realization of that as it arrives in adolescence.  

It is more difficult than I first imagined to separate my thoughts on the book into sections so I have decided to reserve the majority of my points for next week once (most) everyone has had a chance to catch up. No one should rush through Proust. So today, in honor of Proust's birthday, I will list out some memorable quotes from the first section of the book.

"But, just as the only storms I longed to see were those that raged along the wildest shores, so I wished to see the great actress only in one of those classical parts in which Swann had assured me she rose to the sublime. When our wish to be touched by nature or art is prompted by the hope of a grandiose revelation, we are loath to let it be replaced by lesser impressions, which might mislead us as to the true value of Beauty."

"But it was especially what he said about my likings probably never changing, and what would make me happy in life, that planted two dreadful suspicions in my mind. The first was that, though I met each new day with the though that I was now on the threshold of life, which still lay before me all unlived and was about to start the very next day, not only had my life in fact begun, but the years to come would not be very different from the years already elapsed. The second, which was really only a variant of the first, was that I did not live outside Time but was subject to its laws, as completely as the fictional characters whose lives, for that very reason, had made me feel so sad when I read of them at Combray, sitting inside my wickerwork shelter."

"[T]he greater part of our memory lies outside us, in a dampish breeze, in the musty air of a bedroom or the smell of autumn's first fires, things through which we can retrieve any part of us that the reasoning mind ... disdained, the last vestige of the past, the best of it, the part which, after all our tears have dried, can make us weep again. Outside us? Inside us, more like, but stored away.... It is only because we have forgotten that we can now and then return to the person we once were, envisage things as that person did, be hurt again, because we are not ourselves anymore, but someone else, who once loved something that we no longer care about."

"If I had not been so determined to set seriously to work, I might have made an effort to start at once. But [ . . . ] it was really preferable not to think of beginning things on an evening when I was not quite ready—and of course the following days were to be no better suited to beginning things. However, I was a reasonable person. When one has waited for years, it would be childish not to tolerate a delay of a couple of days."

So Marcel embarks on the literary life despite have little talent or work ethic as we see humorously demonstrated here. He has romanticized the life of the man of words just as he has his personal attachments. Will his time on the shores of Normandy change his perceptions? Next Friday I hope to take up the whole picture.

Comments

[Emily]

It would drive me nuts (NUTS!) to read this in editions whose translators varied from volume to volume. Hats off to those of you who are. I'm sticking with my Enright/Moncrieff/Kilmartin on my next re-read - which, thanks to all the lovely quotes and thoughts picked out by you and Claire, is getting nearer by the day. :-)

[Frances]

Emily, it is driving me a little nutty too. To the extent that I think I will opt for my traditional Folio set for Guermantes Way. Now that I have experienced the shift from one translator to another, I am starting to see this Penguin project as a little gimmicky. Hey let's get a whole bunch of translators together so that they can each translate one volume of the work.

[claire]

If they had stuck to Davis for all 6 volumes it would've been perfect, right? I did try to read the first pages of Guermantes Way with Mark Treharne's translation, and it looked so accessible, and yet very close to the Moncrieff (basing on the first three pages only, anyway). But I don't know if it's advisable shifting back and forth translations, or whether I should just stick with the Moncrieff/Kilmartin/Enright. Still leaning towards the latter right now.

[ds]

Yippee,I am not alone!!! I too enjoyed Lydia Davis' translation of Swann's Way, and would probably have stuck with her through all 6 volumes, just as claire says. As it is, I made it through about 4 pages of Grieve's translation and put it down in favor of Messrs. Moncrieff, Kilmartin & Enright, which I found more fluid and--though I speak no French--more French, as inexplicable as that sounds. I think they have me for the rest. Love the quotes you pulled,and it will be interesting to see how Marcel's perceptions and aspirations will change in part 2. So glad you are hosting this--it is fun!!

[JoAnn]

It's amazing how much a translation can influence the overall tone of a book. I've tried different translations of both Kristin Lavransdatter and Anna Karenina, and found I had strong preferences in both cases.

[Jackie]

I whole heartily agree with all of you. I am half way through the grieves. really wish Lydia Davis would have done them all...

[Dorothy W.]

Interesting. I didn't really notice a difference when I read through the Penguin edition. Perhaps I was just able to adapt to each new writer quickly, but it didn't bother me. I wonder if I would notice it more on a second time through?

[Tom C]

Gosh! I tend to agree with the previous comment - I barely noticed any difference. Perhaps its because I leave long gaps between each volume.

Fascinating to read your comments above and I look forward to reading about "the whole picture".

For me, one of the best things about this book is the idealised picture of Normandy it presents. As a frequent visitor there I have memories of cold grey days interspersed with a day or two of fine weather - a bit like the English south coast where I live in fact. But the atmosphere of Proust imbues the whole area and makes my visits feel like spending time in an impressionist painting.

[Sarah]

I definitely liked Lydia Davis' translation better, but didn't find James Grieve too be too disruptive. I've just begun Mark Treharne's translation of The Guermantes Way, and his work I do not like as much. We'll see how it goes. Love the quotes you used. :)