Marcel Proust meticulously described the town of Combray and I maybe loved it. While his drawn out monologues took several tries to decipher, the beauty he found in life’s simplicities helped me immerse myself into his childhood home. I’m not sure if any of you also relate but I found myself at times having to read the sentences out loud to follow Proust’s intricate train of thought. While at times his roaming of descriptions confused me, I found myself appreciating his style of writing because I too find it difficult to contain my thoughts within the parameters of a standard sentence. I appreciated that the novel’s structure seemed to follow his train of thought and that he would then elaborate on an instance that would be brought to light.

Even as Marcel’s thoughts roamed freely, I couldn’t help but notice the symbolisms of constants in his childhood town. My favorite, perhaps, was the Church steeple that stood tall in Combray indicating a point of reference for little Marcel. He describes that throughout time the Church steeple lasted and even while barely visible was a beacon of comfort, always resting somewhere between Combray’s skyline. Why also the steeple stuck out to me was that perhaps Proust felt a connection to it because his grandmother interpreted the steeple as being distinct, which to her was highly valued. For me I feel that a constant in my life is the mountains that encompass us here in British Columbia. I doubt I would feel truly at home in a place without seeing the familiar mountain peaks.  

As well, his reference to pastries, which I thought was very French of him to consistently mention different pastries and how they affected his livelihood. I know the main takeaway was the madeleine making him reminisce of the time his aunt had given him it with his tea, but what stood out to me was the way pastries were used as a means to create space for child Proust. Whether it be when his uncle offered him a marzipan cake or his family in Combray taking turns on buying the brioche bread, I felt Proust used pastries to indicate that space has been made. His family’s tradition of bringing pastries resonated with my own in which we use our traditional desserts to end a dinner party on a sweet note. And like him these desserts would bring me back instead of a sip of tea. For me it is the aromatic taste of cardamom in “firni” , a pudding dessert, that is a constant in my family gatherings. 

A question I have for the class is what is your steeple? What is something (or someone) that through time has been a constant in your life, keeping you grounded?