Word: proust
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...Einstein won the Nobel Prize, James Joyce published Ulysses and T.S. Eliot published The Waste Land. There was a famous party in May for the debut of the ballet Renard, composed by Stravinsky and staged by Diaghilev. They were both there, along with Picasso (who had designed the sets), Proust (who had been proclaimed Einstein's literary interpreter) and Joyce. The art of each, in its own way, reflected the breakdown of mechanical order and of the sense that space and time were absolutes...
...military vehicles rumble through Paris, sees in their camouflage painting a kind of Cubism, therefore a kind of modernist triumph. That same year James Joyce begins Ulysses, overturning our traditional expectations for action, plot, drama and the direct impact of one character on another in the novel. "Like Proust," Edmund Wilson writes, "he is symphonic rather than narrative...musical rather than dramatic...
...Freud's case histories, one was on Proust, and I decided that they all fit together. I added some chapters to the essays that I published, and it seems to be considered a real book. I am very pleased about the award, of course," she said...
...After we move into our empty rooms, as the year progresses and the trees lose their leaves, something inside us aches to be somewhere else than in front of our computers writing about Proust. Maybe we'd like to be bathing with mermaids, chilling with the Hephalumps. These rooms serve as relaxation theme parks, like the fantasy worlds we created for ourselves under our blankets in the corners of first grade playgrounds. These elaborate flowing waterfalls and bunk bed caves are just modern forts, little escapes from the coldness of mass-produced furniture and rationally-distributed wall putty...
...Cast a wide net, scrabble up and down from period to period, a scale intimate like Proust's madeleine and yet grand and popular. How did people do this before? Should I Mach Three today, or go for a barbershop shave with strop and blade? Send someone a letter, or an e-mail? Do I touch-type it up, or take out the typewriter, and probably wrangle with the ribbon far less than I'd sweat blood over a smug squat printer? But, no, it isn't just efficiency, isn't it the pre-modern satisfaction of unfamiliar physical immediacy...