An Innocent Stroll Taken Beneath His Nose

In light of the coming holiday, I was delighted to find a rather fitting passage in my reading today. I've gotten into the thick of book four, Cities of the Plain (or Sodom and Gomorrah, depending on your translation) and am so far finding it much more enjoyable than Guermantes Way. Book three was a bit on the slow and dry side, as I may have repeated ad nauseam. It dealt almost entirely with long-past current events of Proust's day which, despite having many modern parallels and still bearing importance not only in their parallels but in their historical significance, were a rather tiring topic for some six hundred pages of reading.

Cities of the Plain, on the other hand, has been dealing with topics that I, at least, find much more interesting than the Dreyfus Affair (SIIIIIIGH) and has been imparting those bits of Proustian wisdom every few pages that I have come to adore. Note: I am not cheapening the huge insights I took from Guermantes Way, but I was forced to work for those insights in a fairly serious way. It was much more Proust-ish in its slow delivery and its spider-webbed construction through time, though I'm finding the quicker pacing of Cities more easily read and enjoyed. Anyway, the first sixty or so pages (in my edition) of Cities finally touches on the oft-hinted at topic of homosexuality in Proust's culture and, even, day to day life, though not how I expected at first, knowing his real-life orientation.

My dear buddy Marcel treats homosexuality with reverence, though the obvious confusion of a past era. Granted, he is far kinder in his confused examination than people today often are when they are confused on the topic, but his sentiments in regards to homosexuality are funny in a dated, well-meaning way. I'll not spend the rest of my evening discussing that, however, as I feel that this is yet another area where an entire book could be written in response to Proust's thoughts on a matter.

I will, however, leave you all tonight with this conveniently found quote on page 665 of my second volume, during part two of Cities:

"Wine? In moderation, it can do you no harm, it's always a tonic.. Sexual enjoyment? After all it's a natural function. But you musn't overdo it, you understand. Excess in anything is wrong." 

So tomorrow, as you sit bloated at your table and consider that second slice of pie and fourth beer, remember, "you musn't overdo it." You wouldn't want to disregard wisdom from someone so timeless as Proust, now would you? Plus, you'll thank him on Friday, when your food-coma-ridden friends can barely get out of their own way and you sprint down the street, book in hand, proclaiming the magic of the journey you have taken through Paris that fine morning.

Or maybe not that last part. That's probably just me.