Marcel Proust, página 10 de 29

At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall, and before I had seen above the big inner curtains what tone the first streaks of light assumed, I could already tell what sort of day it was. The first sounds from the street had told me, according to whether they came to my ears dulled and distorted by the moisture of the atmosphere or quivering like arrows in the resonant and empty area of a spacious, crisply frozen, pure morning; as soon as I heard the rumble of the first tramcar, I could tell whether it was sodden with rain or setting forth into the blue. And perhaps these sounds had themselves been forestalled by some swifter and more pervasive emanation which, stealing into my slumber, diffused in it a melancholy that seemed to presage snow, or gave utterance (through the lips of a little person who occasionally reappeared there) to so many hymns to the glory of the sun that, having first of all begun to smile in my sleep, having prepared my eyes, behind their shut lids, to be dazzled, I awoke finally amid deafening strains of music.

Tansonville seemed little more than a place to rest in between two walks or a refuge during a shower. Rather too countrified, it was one of those rural dwellings where every sitting-room is a cabinet of greenery, and where the roses and the birds out in the garden keep you company in the curtains; for they were old and each rose stood out so clearly that it might have been picked like a real one and each bird put in a cage, unlike those pretentious modern decorations in which, against a silver background, all the apple trees in Normandy are outlined in the Japanese manner, to trick the hours you lie in bed. I spent the whole day in my room, the windows of which opened upon the beautiful verdure of the park, upon the lilacs of the entrance, upon the green leaves of the great trees beside the water and in the forest of Meseglise. It was a pleasure to contemplate all this, I was saying to myself: "How charming to have all this greenery in my window" until suddenly in the midst of the great green picture I recognised the clock tower of the Church of Combray toned in contrast to a sombre blue as though it were far distant, not a reproduction of the clock tower but its very self which, defying time and space, thrust itself into the midst of the luminous greenery as if it were engraved upon my window-pane.

The reader will remember that, long before going that day (on the evening of which the Princesse de Guermantes was to give her party) to pay the Duke and Duchess the visit which I have just described, I had kept watch for their return and had made, in the course of my vigil, a discovery which, albeit concerning M. de Charlus in particular, was in itself so important that I have until now, until the moment when I could give it the prominence and treat it with the fulness that it demanded, postponed giving any account of it. I had, as I have said, left the marvellous point of vantage, so snugly contrived for me at the top of the house, commanding the broken and irregular slopes leading up to the Hotel de Brequigny, and gaily decorated in the Italian manner by the rose-pink campanile of the Marquis de Frecourts stables.

Por la parte de Swann - A la sombra de las muchachas en florPor la parte de Swann (que se estructura en tres partes que inician los senderos de gloria de una narración sobre los celos, el amor, la mezquindad y la marginacion), obertura de A la busca del tiempo perdido, es tiempo ganado para cualquier lector que lo sea de veras. Tiempo ganado, imprescindible y recuperado desde su primera linea, ese en apariencia anodino Me he acostado temprano, hace mucho. Una magdalena, una losa, un recuerdo de un beso no dado, amores ajenos y propios de un narrador que se incrimina siempre a si mismo para al fin poder descubrirse Y las puertas del infierno quedan abiertas de par en par.A la sombra de las muchachas en flor nos narra con ese estilo magnifico, el primer gran amor de Proust, Gilberta Swann, a la que ya conociamos del primer volumen. Pero como todo se acaba difuminando, e incluso las pasiones mas fuertes pocas veces resisten el paso del tiempo y las casi siempre absurdas acciones humanas, al final (o eso parece) de esta relacion le seguiran unos meses en el balneario de Balbec, donde conocera a las muchachas en flor que anuncia el titulo.Al introducir la conciencia de su Narrador en A la busca del tiempo perdido, Marcel Proust realiza una revolucion en la literatura del siglo XX y se convierte, junto con James Joyce y Franz Kafka, en el escritor mas importante de los cien ultimos años.A la busca del tiempo perdido no es novela de una sola faceta, sino de muchas: sobre unos puntos de partida parcialmente autobiograficos, Proust consigue una narracion iniciatica, la pintura critica de toda una sociedad, una novela psicologica, una obra simbolica, el analisis de inclinaciones sexuales hasta entonces prohibidas, una reflexion sobre la literatura y la creacion artistica.Hecha a partir de las recientes ediciones francesas que suponen una revolucion respecto de las anteriores, esta nueva traduccion es la primera realizada por un solo traductor, Mauro Armiño; acompañan a la edicion tres diccionarios que permiten al lector un contacto inmediato con el mundo de Proust, con los lugares de la trama y los personajes de las siete partes que, en tres volumenes, constituyen esta edicion de A la busca del tiempo perdido. Una nutrida anotacion y resumenes que sirven de guia para la localizacion de escenas, episodios y pasajes completan esta edicion.

"Mademoiselle Albertine has gone!" How much farther does anguish penetrate in psychology than psychology itself! A moment ago, as I lay analysing my feelings, I had supposed that this separation without a final meeting was precisely what I wished, and, as I compared the mediocrity of the pleasures that Albertine afforded me with the richness of the desires which she prevented me from realising, had felt that I was being subtle, had concluded that I did not wish to see her again, that I no longer loved her. But now these words: "Mademoiselle Albertine has gone!" had expressed themselves in my heart in the form of an anguish so keen that I would not be able to endure it for any length of time. And so what I had supposed to mean nothing to me was the only thing in my whole life. How ignorant we are of ourselves. The first thing to be done was to make my anguish cease at once. Tender towards myself as my mother had been towards my dying grandmother, I said to myself with that anxiety which we feel to prevent a person whom we love from suffering: "Be patient for just a moment, we shall find something to take the pain away, dont fret, we are not going to allow you to suffer like this."

El tiempo recobradoLlegamos al final de nuestra magna edición de Proust.En este último volumen se entretejen todos los hilos dispuestos a lo largo de la gran novela y Marcel se reencuentra con todos sus amigos, esta vez decrepitos y envejecidos. Destruida la belleza. Cercana la muerte. Este es el volumen mas otoñal y melancolico de la serie.

En estos inspiradores ensayos sobre por qué leemos, Proust explora todos los placeres y padecimientos que ofrecen los libros, y explica además la belleza de Ruskin y su obra y el goce que supone perd

En enero de 1909, una estafa realizada por un tal Henri Lemoine contra la compañía De Beers dedicada a la explotación de minas de diamantes acabó adquiriendo notoriedad mundial.Marcel Proust, cuyo estilo ya se estaba perfilando en los primeros esbozos de la Busca del tiempo perdido, tomo este caso para describirlo a la manera de Balzac, Flaubert, Renan, Michelet o Saint-Simon, recurriendo, con ello, a plena conciencia, a la parodia, con la idea de evitar malgastar el resto de nuestras vidas escribiendo parodias involuntarias, o leyendolas.

A BBC Radio six-part dramatisation of Marcel Proust's groundbreaking series of novels, tracing the extraordinary story of the author's own life. Starring James Wilby and Jonathan Firth, and with a distinguished cast including Harriet Walter, Imogen Stubbs, and Corin Redgrave, this rich, multi-layered adaptation brings out all the variety and subtlety of Proust's magnificent masterpiece.Featuring a fictional version of himself - 'Marcel' - and a host of friends, acquaintances, and lovers, In Search of Lost Time is Proust's search for the key to the mysteries of memory, time, and consciousness. As he recalls his childhood days, the sad affair of Charles Swann and Odette de Crecy, his transition to manhood, the tortures of love and the ravages of war, he realises that the simplest of discoveries can lead to astonishing possibilities.