Sunday, December 5, 2010


Read not between the lines,
but from behind them —
winter light, hermit’s cell.

Note: Vol. 2, Page 456: my enjoyment of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past continues.

Another Note: While the passage above is essentially a comment on my own experience reading, it also makes an interesting caption for the photo at the upper right side of the page. Hmm.

In the Forum: primitive pleasure.


rahina q.h. said...

observe not just the image, the brushwork
but behind it
winter light, artist's cell

Aleksandra said...

sounds like a great haiku

William Michaelian said...

Now at Vol. 2, Page 466, out of 2,265 pages in all. Only 658 to go. Started the book August 1. If I live to see it done, by then the winter light will have flown.

Rahina, your observation suits the text quite well. Also life itself.

Aleksandra, today we owe it all to Proust.

Two Tigers said...

Congratulations on your ongoing ascent of Mount Proust and best wishes for a completed journey!

Slow and steady, William. As I recall, the best is saved for last, and soon you will be wistfully eyeing the multitude of pages behind you and the paucity of pages before you, and wish the whole thing could last longer. Sigh.

William Michaelian said...

In fact, I already feel that way, Gabriella....

Paul L. Martin said...

There is a simple beauty to that hermit bathed in winter light, contemplating the wisdom of sages. You have inspired me to try to climb "Mount Proust" again, William. Thank you.

William Michaelian said...

It will be time well spent, Paul, as Proust himself will prove.

Woman in a Window said...

And so is this what you are doing in your photograph, reading from behind the lines?

winter light is my delight.


William Michaelian said...

Possibly; and, possibly, I’m suggesting that doing so is a way to better know me.

The text itself is only a little over a day old, but I feel I’ve lived a lifetime since then.

Gerry Boyd said...

Volume 2 is my favorite. Pity many don't get that far. Not to say that volume 1 does not have its moments. Forge on. The last section is sublime.

William Michaelian said...

I don’t doubt it. And we should note here that it’s translated not by Moncrieff, but Blossom.