Can’t say I’m feeling the Proust’s magic yet. Love affairs being the center of this one, it just reminded me of an even slower version of “Sons and Lovers,” just with a wimpier protagonist who even manages to come off as obnoxious at times. He somehow manages to retain condescending tone when speaking about “commoners” after crying himself to sleep because his grandmother didn’t say him goodnight last night.
It’s still beautifully written, and there are some interesting ponderings about the intricacies of human mind, but it’s also painfully dull, even more so than the first book.
Eloquent, evocative prose
|Protagonist’s constant wimpiness gets seriously annoying sometimes|
A few good insights on nostalgia, and interpersonal relationships
|Extremely slow pace|
|Illuminating on the life of French aristocracy in the late 19th century||Nothing much really happens throughout the plot|
|Real science books offer deeper psychological insight, and are not even nearly as dull|