The First Attempt

What would Proust think?

Well, he would not approve, unless in some quest for artistic greatness I mastered the blogosphere, conquered it full-heartedly like any of his artistic geniuses, real or fictive.

Then what is the purpose of this?

After slowly wandering through the pages of Proust for the past 8 months, my brain has been infiltrated. I can only think in Proustian terms, compare every example in my life to whatever equivalent in Le Temps Perdu, which, is exactly what you are NOT supposed to do. Or so I was told when I began reading the seven volume novel for a class at my last semester at Berkeley. Of course I was also supposed to have read all of it by May. But life interceded, and besides passing the class, I think both Marcel and Proust would have approved of my choice.

To give a little background, Marcel Proust wrote his piece de resistance, Le Temps Perdu, (or its English equivalent In Search of Lost Time) in the early 20th century and is considered one of the greatest 20th century novels in both French literature and the overall genre of LITERATURE. Ok, that is an overstatement, but I personally believe that the definition of literature (in contrast to a regular book) is that it not only has a certain level of quality, but it somehow challenges the way you think. This can vary (i.e. changes your opinion, solidifies your thoughts, gives you a new insight or perspective), but it must be a substantial challenge. Proust does this if you manage to get through enough of him, but in the interim I’ll let the Internet be my substitute for literature and claim (and hope for) at least mediocrity.

It’s a strange filter, I know, to be constantly dictated by Proust, but it’s something to do, a new structure for thought, if you will, and a forum to conquer in the strange interim of my present life of the unemployed ex-English major.

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