Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust.

The first chapter of the book, ‘Combray’, felt like those long dreams that seem to never end, especially with the way it was written. The never-ending, lengthy sentences felt difficult to read but I liked that aspect because it felt like it was spoken by a person hit with a wave of nostalgia, as if they were trying to describe their memories as detailed as possible. With the way Proust described the intricacies of the protagonist’s, or perhaps his, childhood bedroom with beautiful metaphors, it helped me imagine the atmosphere and travel down the memory lane with him.

Personally, the part that was hardest to read started with Swann coming in as a guest. For some reason, my mind kept wandering, daydreams kept rushing in and it took a long time for me to go through that part. Maybe it was the many mentions of important french figures during the dinner conversations. Even when the notes explained who they were, I still felt a bit in the dark not knowing much about the french history or politics in the 1800s(?). But after that, I found the descriptions of how the protagonist longed for his mother’s kisses very interesting. As much as I want to say it felt like the boy had some sort of Oedipus complex, I understand the childish longing of their parent’s affection and warmth. It felt like the boy was just an anxious child with a big attachment to his mother. However, the comparison of his relationship with his mom with other people in romantic relationships felt the weirdest for me.

Speaking of comparisons, I really liked the various uses of metaphors the author used, almost in every sentence. The author had a unique, artistic way with words; despite their complexity, the descriptions were written beautifully. I feel like it complemented the dream-like feeling of the whole chapter, like the protagonist was trying to remember a childhood memory in between his sleep. And of course, we cannot forget the remarkable part of the madeleine dipped in tea. I think we all have something that could give us that feeling of immense happiness related to a forgotten memory, may it be a certain smell or taste. As the author said,

“But, when nothing subsists of an old past, after the death of people, after the destruction of things, alone, frailer but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent, more faithful, smell and taste still remain for a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, upon the ruins of all the rest, bearing without giving way, on their almost impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.”

I am someone who spends more time looking back at the past, thinking about my memories and feeling nostalgic than I live in the present, so I feel like I really resonated with the author in that part. Something about eating something from your childhood or that sudden familiar scent that you cannot describe but swear was related to some part of your life, is just so dear yet painful to me, very bittersweet. I liked when the protagonist tried to eat more from it to get the same feeling of euphoria but couldn’t, it’s like forgetting more and more about your memories and how their ‘freshness’ is lost every time we think about it.

My question is: Regarding the madeleine dipped in tea; have you ever had an instance like this, when a seemingly random scent or taste had brought you sudden waves of nostalgia or happiness?