All about the English-language editions of Marcel Proust's great novel, À la recherche du temps perdu, once known as Remembrance of Things Past but now more accurately titled In Search of Lost Time
I discovered last month Naxos Audiobooks has issued what it calls "Remembrance of Things Past", narrated by the late Neville Jason. He was earlier an actor with the Royal Shakespeare Company who later appeared in film and television dramas, including an appearance in "From Russia with Love," the James Bond film with Sean Connery. Starting in 1987, he began to record classics for Naxos, including the whole of War and Peace and "Remembrance", using the Scott Moncrieff 1920s translations for Proust's first six books and a new translation by David Whiting of the final book, which Scott Moncrieff did not live long enough to do.
I now have the audio of Mr Whiting's version , which seems very similar to that by Sydney Schiff in 1931, so while the audio played I've been reading along with an ebook of that version. (I find the actual page essential. When I listen without having something to occupy my eyes, my mind wanders.) I'm enjoying it hugely. Audio is good, and Mr Jason is a very convincing narrator, though he goes a bit over the top with the vainglorious Baron Charlus. I appreciate, too, hearing Mr Jason's pronunciation of the names -- Bloch, especially, was a revelation, for Mr Jason pronounces the ch in a mild Germanic way, neither clearing his throat like Peter Sellars in Dr Strangelove nor hissing the word as I learned long ago in Frankfurt. (The locals would render a declaration of love as "Ish liebe dish....")
There's a possibility that Naxos may issue the Whiting Time Regained as an ebook. And of course the Jason narration is available from the usual sources including the Audible library (30 days free, then $14.95/month).
Proust died in 1922, which was also the year when C K Scott Moncrieff published the first English-language book of the "Search" under the only slightly bowlderized title of Swann's Way. That's apparently reason enough for a rush of Proustiana this year. For August, The American Scholar featured an essay by Robert Zaresky: The Affair Rekindled: Remembering the Plight of Dreyfuss and the effect it had on the young Marcel Proust, the argument being that l'affaire was what caused Proust to rediscover his Jewish heritage. More recently, the BBC featured Did Proust write the greatest novel of the 20th century? on its website. The argument might seem unnecessary to those of you who find your way to this website, but I did enjoy Cath Pound's notion that the "Search" is addictive. I certainly found it so!
I peeked into Swann's Way two or three times before a pal challenged me to read the entire novel with him. Every Wednesday on his way to the law office where he was a low-level attorney, he stopped by my rented room (it had a kitchen and bath but wasn't really an apartment). We drank coffee, smoked(!), and talked about the week's reading. Egging each other on in this fashion, we both finished Remembrance of Things Past before the year was out.
Ten years later, I read it again — and aloud — to my wife over the course of two winters. (One of the French deconstructionists, arguing that one can't just study a novel by itself, because it's a collaborative venture between author and reader, cinched his case by saying: "After all, who has read every word of À la recherche du temps perdu?" It pleased me hugely to be able to think, "I did!")
That was the handsome, two-volume Random House edition of the novel, the first six books rendered into English by C K Scott Moncrieff and the seventh by Frederick Blossom. (Scott Moncrieff died before finishing his task, which is probably why Penguin decided to employ seven different translators for its 21st century Proust.) When Terence Kilmartin's reworking came out in the 1990s, I bought that three-volume edition, but read only pieces of it — notably Andreas Mayor's translation of Time Regained, greatly improved over the rather lame Blossom version. Otherwise, Remembrance of Things Past seemed mostly unchanged from Scott Moncrieff's translation.
Then came the Penguin editions, the first four volumes of which were published in the US by Viking. After reading a rave review of vol. 2 — In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower — I decided that I would have to read it. On second thought, I decided to start from the beginning with the new Swann's Way. It was a good decision. Lydia Davis did a wonderful job with the first volume, and by the time I'd lulled Little Marcel to sleep (on page 43 in the Viking edition), I knew that I was once again in for the long haul. I set out to acquire a complete set of hardcover books — not so easy, as matters turned out! I read them in sequence, and I reported on them in what was a sort of blog. And more recently I began to add the elegant Yale University Press editions as they were published.
Beyond that, I've seen it argued that literary French has changed little over the past hundred years, while English most certainly has, under the battering of such writers as James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway. (Whatever you say about C K Scott Moncrieff, he probably never read Ulysses, and he certainly was unfamiliar with the noisy young journalist who stormed into Paris in 1921.) However that may be, it's nice to have a freshened version of Proust's prose, and one that arguably is closer to the original than the one rendered by Scott Moncrieff in the 1920s.
(Proust, Joyce, and Hemingway! It's pleasant to think that my three favorite writers once breathed the same air in Paris. Indeed, Joyce and Proust once met at a party ... and had little or nothing to say to one another.)
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Posted September 2022. © 2006-2022 Fallbook Press; all rights reserved.