I would like to start off by saying I really had no idea what I was getting myself into as I started reading “Combray” by Marcel Proust but, I will say that I was both pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised. As with almost all things, “Combray” had both pros and cons, both of which I would love to discuss with you today. As I began reading Marcel Proust’s “Combray,” I was reminded of why I rarely find myself drawn to literature. I found myself getting distracted and itching for something more attention-grabbing and, simply put, interesting. I wanted a text with a little more sustenance, but unfortunately I felt like Proust fell short in that area. Now, this was just for me personally and is a completely PERSONAL opinion. As I am not much of a reader anyway, my taste in literature is probably very juvenile and unrefined so I apologize in advance if anything I say obnoxiously portrays that. However, I am a woman bursting with opinions to share so, obnoxious or not, they will be shared. Although I kind of insulted Proust for his inability to write in an interesting manner (again, to me), I have to give him credit for the depth and unique imagery used in his description of sleep. To be able to write about something that, for a lot of us, is such an everyday activity often not worth mentioning in a way that is so creatively nostalgic is commendable. Although it was not super exciting to read, his talent is very clearly expressed within the description as he was able to create an experience that broad enough to be somewhat relatable to the reader, but also unique and specific to the protagonist/main character. Furthermore on the topic of nostalgia, I was a big fan of the way he recalled the moments with his Mother before bed, as it was one of the few moments I actually felt drawn in to the text. Using his great talent with words, he was able to convey the relevant emotions and in turn, really grasp the readers attention. His vulnerability in sharing a personal and emotional moment for him allows for the reader to hold the moment with same amount of importance as Proust does and, at least for me, brings the reader back to a special and comforting time in their life; receiving a good-night kiss from a parent.

Although “Combray” wasn’t my favourite, I have to give credit to Proust for his skilled writing style. My question for you is, personally, is content just as important as writing style to you, or do you think an author could get away with a mediocre plot line by having a way with words that strikes a chord with you?