Reading Proust

I really enjoyed reading this post on the experience of reading Proust.

It sounds kind of marvelous, actually – and I have put off reading Proust because it’s just daunting and huge, etc. My father has been working on the Things Past (not sure the new translation’s name now) for a couple years now. He takes breaks, puts it down, reads something else, picks it up again. But I know he is totally enjoying his Proustian experience.

Memory resides in the senses. It’s not something in your BRAIN … although your cognitive mind can also retain memories. Memories assault you through what you smell, what you hear (a certain strain of music doesn’t just remind you of 3rd grade – you feel like you are suddenly back there), what you touch …

From what I understand, this is Proust’s way in as well.

I wonder if neuroscientists read Proust. It seems very much the kind of thing they would be interested in. I have a friend going for his degree at this moment – and I know they do a lot of work with actors – because, just in terms of sense memory, and emotional memory – and how do you call up memories that can make you cry, or transport you into another emotional state … and how do you do this on purpose … Actors know how to do this. It is their job to know how to do this. Everyone has those rushes of memory come over them from time to time, swept away by the smell of cinnamon, or a certain candle … but to decide to do this … This is another thing entirely.

I should ask him about Proust. I will!!

A certain smell, or sound, or touch can open doors in the long hallway of your mind … stuff flows out, you remember things … entire experiences leap out at you three-dimensionally … You can even feel like you are actually back in time. We all know that sensation – I guess it’s a version of deja vu … but different. A flash of “oh, I know this … I have lived this …”

I remember that Deli Guy had read Things Past all the way through. For some reason, that thought is really moving to me.

Oh – and my parents went to go see Little Miss Sunshine and of course Steve Carell plays a morose Proust scholar (the thought just tickles me no end) – and my father just thought it was hysterical.

Here’s a link to the whole Proust post again.