The pleasure of re-reading
Over the years, I find that I’m more likely to re-read a book that I have previously enjoyed than I am to find something new. Weirdly enough, this is particularly true of genres that most people think of as “one-time-only”–like mystery and science fiction. In trying to understand why I am drawn to re-reading, some of the pleasure is knowing the details of the plot, so that I can relish the ways in which the characters do (or don’t) confuse themselves as the plot goes on. In other words, I find myself concentrating on the characters rather than what happens.
Of course, the book needs to have characters that I want to spend time with. It may be embarassing to me to admit, but I have to say that one of my main models for a personal relationship is the relationship of Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane as described by Dorothy Sayers. Maybe that’s why it took until I was in my 40s to find the right guy.
There is, of course, another variety of re-reading–coming back to a great book after some number of years have passed. It’s not that the book has changed; it’s that I have. Right now, I’m on my second voyage through Marcel Proust’s A la recherche du temps perdu. The first time was about 25 years ago. I have to say that I’m a lot more patient with myself, and with the incrediby convoluted sentences that I have to deal with. But I’ve also lived enough to be able understand somewhat more of what Proust is getting at.
Of course, all this re-reading means that my pile of “to-be-read” grows faster than I can get through it. This isn’t a complaint, just a fact of life.
Tags: Books, Books and Reading, Dorothy Sayers, Marcel Proust, reading
Bob
April 12th, 2008 at 1:39 pm
Wow! I’m also plowing my way through Proust, though I never got beyond volume 1 the first time. Actually, I’ve read vol. 1 THREE times. I’m in the middle of volume 2 now, and I’ve slowed down a bit, rather tired of Mme. Venteuil and Odette and their salons. But I’m determined to make my way all the way through this time. Where are you in the process?
April 12th, 2008 at 5:52 pm
I’m in the middle of vol 5/6–the Captive & the Fugative. It’s a point where I want to just shake Marcel and tell him to get a grip. But, of course, he can’t/ won’t/ mustn’t/ doesn’t.
April 12th, 2008 at 7:26 pm
Very impressive! Go, Tiger!
April 13th, 2008 at 5:46 am
One of the main reasons for reading over and over again things from the past, isn’t it, is that they’re so much better than anything that lately appears. Of course also they’ve been sifted out over time so that only the best remain …
Starting at 27, he says in his superior and gloating way, I’ve read Proust right through three times, every ten years. I took to it like a duck to water, and now I can swim in it like a swan. Kendall is being whipped along, paddling heroically, she’ll get the hang of it soon. Don’t worry about Marcel’s grip, there’s an iron fist under that glove …..
April 13th, 2008 at 6:23 am
I’m well aware of just how tightly controlled Proust is.
It a bit like the advice that I got before embarking on Joyce’s “Ulysses”–a friend who loved it said that all it takes to read it is to trust Joyce to make everything clear eventually. And to recognize that he has his own reasons to let the information develop with a certain pace. Doing this, I fell in love with it as well.
All of this advice is even more true of Proust. He knows that there is a long way to go, and that he has time to let the story evolve and to fold back and re-echo from hundreds of pages earlier.
April 16th, 2008 at 11:52 am
Even before the ascent of the Euro, one of my favorite trips was to return to Proust’s France. Meaning: the fictional country that Marcel inhabits through the seven volume cycle of RoTP. The evoked world of sensory awareness throughout the book sets the standard for other writers. Also, the ability to merge personal themes with larger social issues (everyone’s reaction to the Dryfus case, for example) is brilliant. But perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Proust is his lavish pathology. You could say he has trust issues. His life strategy isn’t to delve into his past for clues that can change behavior. Rather, he delves into the past as part of his pathology. He understands that the clues to himself lie in early childhood. But he has no intention of changing his behavior! This is a remarkable conclusion to reach, if only because it stands apart from the goals of contemporary therapy. Proust stays his course. All of his guidance systems tell him to distrust Albertine. Amazingly, he does not perform many diagnostic tests on his own guidance system. He perceives his feelings and aberations as simply his; they are as integral to the whole self as much as his arms or torso. Virtually everyone in Proust’s world pursues love by driving in the oncoming lane. Attraction is soon followed by doubt which turns to jealousy which becomes obsessive until the beloved becomes so hateful that all their virtues are cremated. No happy endings in this world. No consolations of growing into deeper intimacy based on the experience of trusting one’s beloved. One reads Proust to find out how love unravels. One reads Proust to see how all effort to connect leads to disappointment. The courage required to face disappointment is the measure of maturity. Love of art is the main consolation in this bleak, opulent world. Proust’s France: it’s a staggeringly beautiful place, but it brutalizes happiness regularly and with conviction. Which is why it’s also a relief to come home after the journey and remember the restraining customs of this refined, brittle world from a distance.