Glass of Time & At Mme Swann's

Hello, readers! I have a lot to say today...I've been working a lot on this post these few days :)

1) I finished Glass of Time! That means I'm 1/2 way done with that stack of four I've been dealing with for a while (and since I don't even intend to finish 13 1/2 lives of Captain Bluebear right now, really that only leaves me with Proust!) But, about the book, I have to say I might even like it a little more than the first, The Meaning of Night! There were a few things I particularly liked about the end, so I'll talk about those, but be forewarned about plenty of spoilers. 

Esperanza turned out to be, as I might have mentioned before, Edward's daughter, which was pretty predictable. What wasn't so predictable was that, though you thought him dead the whole novel, Edward was actually living with Esperanza her whole life, under one of his many different names, this time Mr. Thornaugh the recluse tutor. Though I liked the element of surprise that this added to the novel, I didn't like what it said about Edward Glyver's character. And the fact that he did such a cruel thing, depriving his own daughter the presence and knowledge of a father, just for a plan to get her to correct what he was unable to in The Meaning of Night doesn't say much more. What I did like was the fact that this issue was adressed by the protagonist, and, though she managed to still imagine her father with filial fondness after learning about his murder of Pheobus Daunt, she couldn't forgive him for this last cruelty. It just reiterates how Edward was damned from the start, and how his obsession was strong enough to bring in, as was revealed at the end of Glass of Time, all those who cared about him. But his daughter was lucky enough to not be as passionate as he, able to do what she needed to do to finish her father's lifelong wish without letting it consume her. Emily Cartaret, the cause of Edward's worst pain, still managed to find pity, friendship, even forgiveness in Alice Esperanza. At the very end of the novel, Alice is even able to resist reading her father's manuscript (The Meaning of Night), found in the huge manor's library. 

Another thing about the novel I enjoyed was a slight twist, though a little obvious still fun to read, concerning the two sons of Emily. I mentioned in the first post concerning this novel that I thought the two sons would be more to the story than just a romantic sub-plot, though that obviously was partly the case. It is revealed towards the end that Edward had hoped the whole time for Alice to find a way to marry Perseus, the oldest son and the next heir, thus ensuring that Alice and her descendants would claim what is rightfully theirs: the Tansor Barony and Evenwood. This is all peachy, considering Alice and Perseus fall in love on their own accord and reach the same marital decision...until it is further uncovered that Perseus was really fathered by Pheobus Daunt the whole time, conceived before he was murdered at the hands of Alice's father, Edward. His claim to the heirancy is no longer valid, and Alice must hope to secure the affections of the younger Randolph in order to continue the plan, breaking her and Perseus' engagement, and both their hearts, in order to do so. But ahh! More problems arise: Randolph had been married for some time already, having secretly eloped to the housekeeper. The truth of the inheritance is finally publicly revealed, and after a few startling incidents, Alice becomes Lady Tansor, Baroness of Evenwood. I loved this novel, simple as it may have been in comparison to reads like Proust, but none the less entertaining and affecting for all that. And, for those wondering about what happens to Alice and Perseus....I'll leave some (predictable) secrets for those who want to read it, as you all should! 

2) Now, to talk about In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower...I am loving it even more than last time I wrote on it. I've been taking lots of my reading-walks, advancing slowly but surely, and finally reached the second and last section of the novel, "Places-names: The Place." The first section, "At Mme Swann's," ended just in time, having gotten a little too repetitive, in my opinion, as the narrator explains the evolution of his love for Gilberte. As the narrative is retrospective, Marcel is able to analyze his emotions in detail, trying to determine the cause and subsequent changes of every feeling, things he would have been unable to do at the time of feeling them, since these desires and regrets "[seek] satisfaction and not self-analysis." (189) 

Finally able to enter into Gilberte's life and home, Marcel soon sees that, though Gilberte does see Marcel as a friend, she does not love him in return, and fears she never will. After a small argument when Gilberte is told by her mother that she cannot go out dancing because her friend, Marcel, was over, Marcel decides, heartbroken at her coldness that day, to forcefully stop seeing her. He fears becoming a source of resentment for Gilberte and wants "just to show her I could live without her." (163) Gilberte can sometimes be sarcastic and a bit mean (for example being rude and petulant when Swann, her father, was respecting the anniversary of his own father's death) in a way that Proust has of making his characters seem quite real (though they may not necessarily be the main focus of the novel as individuals; the real import is in how these characters are remembered by Marcel, how they worked into his emotions, impressions, and outlooks.) Marcel then describes at painful length the sadness he feels at being away from Gilberte, the ways in which hope for reconciliation torments him by making the pain new with every disappointment. Then he starts brightening up, returning to the Swann's house to visit Odette (something I talk about later on) but making a point out of not seeing Gilberte, her daughter. Here, Marcel starts explaining at length his fear, sadness, and understanding that one day what he feigns will actually come to pass, that he will not care if he sees Gilberte anymore at all. This is what I think got a little overstated: the idea that when a person is in love, they may violently desire something, but that no desire will every truly be enjoyed, for we will no longer be the same person when these desires come to pass. 

"The wherewithal was not what I lacked; but at the very moment when it materialized, an adventitious if not logical consequence of its acquisition had deprived me of the expected joy. They do of course tend to last longer than the single evening on which we have acquired what makes them possible. More usually, our fever of expectation lasts longer. Even so, happiness can never happen. Once the external circumstances are overcome, if they can be, nature then transforms the struggle into an internal one, by bringing about a gradual change in our heart, so that the gratification it desires is different from the one it is about to receive. And if the change in circumstance has come about so quickly that our heart has not had time to change with it, nature, nothing daunted, taking its own time, sets about defeating us in a way which, though more devious, is no less effective....The phenomenon of happiness does not come to pass; or else it leads us to utter bitterness." (200)

This dour notion is demonstrated in Swann, who once pined to know Odette's whereabouts, affairs, and doings but now, married to her, "no longer wondered about what Odette might be up to; he was now almost indifferent to whether she had someone with her or whether she had gone out somewhere." (97) And though I wouldn't say Swann seems bitter about finally being able to live with Odette and be her husband, he feels shame at the jealousy he once experienced as a result of Odette's infidelities, which continue in their marriage. Finally able to secure his place in the life of his love, Odette no longer is Swann's love. 

Marcel is not just in love with Gilberte Swann...it is easy to say that he may be just as in love with her father and mother, Charles and Odette. This was presented even in Swanns Way, when Marcel tried to steer conversation just to hear their names, and even more so when he would walk to the Bois du Boulogne in hopes of catching sight of Odette on a walk. In In the Shadow, this becomes more defined as the Swanns start seeing Marcel as a good friend for their daughter and welcome him into their home; they are the ones who allow him to get closer into her life, and he does not forgetnnor take lightly their good graces. If he loves Odette and Charles for allowing him to be physically close to Gilberte he also recognizes certain times when her parents help Marcel feel closer to his love. After being told about certain rooms Gilberte was in while Marcel was in their house, he thinks: "with these words and the relief they brought me, [Swann] suddenly bridged for me one of those dreadful chasms within the heart, which put such a distance between us and the woman we love. It was a moment when I believed my affection for him was even stronger than my affection for Gilberte." (103) In another scene the narrator remembers, upon seeing aspects of both their personality and their physical bodies in her, that Gilberte is a product of both Odette and Charles: "...Nature, in order to create Gilberte, seemed to have been faced with the problem of imitating Mme Swann while being able to use as its sole material the skin of M. Swann." (139) If Marcel loves Gilberte, he also loves what she is made out of. The relationship between Marcel and Odette is a strange one; though nothing of any sort ever happens between them, the narrator definitely remembers Odette as elegant, beautiful, and captivating in her own right, not just as Gilberte's mother. He often describes her clothes, her lifestyle, and her presence in beautiful language, very detailed and poetic... and always with mentions of flowers. 

This last part is something I always notice, as Marcel has shown an interest in and sensitivity to flowers since Swann's Way,I think it interesting that Odette is the character most  affiliated to flowers. The whole section is even named after Odette; it could have just as rightly been "At the Swanns," or "At M Swann's," even "At Gilberte's." Anyways, this post is getting long, so I will end with some quotes on how Marcel sees Odette, then go. Till next time readers! 

"For Odette, as befitted the lady of Tansonville, knew that even the iciest April is never without its flowers, and that winter, springtime, and summer are not as hermetically partitioned from one another as may be supposed....Apart from the snows of Mme Swann's muff, all that was required to set me yearning for the countryside was that snowball of Guelder roses (which may have had no other purpose than to join with my hostess's furniture and her own outfit in making the "Symphony in White major")..." (210)

"I would arrive at the Arc de Triomphe about midday and stand...from where I could watch the corner of the side street from which Mme Swann would emerge, coming from her house, which was only a few steps away...Then it was, stepping onto the fine gravel of the avenue, that Mme Swann would make her entrance, as late, languid, and luxuriant as the most beautiful flower, which never opened till noon, in outfits that gave her a bloom of radiance, and which, though they were always different, I remember as mainly mauve. The bright moment of her flowering was complete when, on an elongated stretch of stem, she unfurled the silky vellum of abroad sunshade blending with the full-blown shimmer of her frock." (211)

"...(in my conviction that, in accordance with her pious expertise in the rites and liturgy of such things, Mme Swann's ways of dressing were linked to the season and time of day by a bond that was necessary and unique) the flowers on her soft straw hat and the little bows on her frock seemed a more natural product of May than any flowers cultivated in beds or growing wild in the woods...As soon as she appeared, I made my bow to Mme Swann." (213)

"So it is that the average life expectancy, the relative longevity, of memories being much greater for those that commemorate poetic sensation than for those left by the pains of love, the heartbreak I suffered at that time because of Gilberte has faded forever, and has been outlined by the pleasure I derive, whenever I want to read off from a sundial of remembrance the minutes between a quarter past twelve and one o'clock on a fine day in May, from a glimpse of myself chatting with Mme Swann, sharing her sunshade as though standing with her in the pale glow of an arbor of wisteria." (217)