Found a new (to me) Proust book. It looks interesting, although I am always a bit suspicious of academic writing with its long (sometimes tedious) sentences and big words, but let's not make an apriori (ha! ha!) judgement, because the book does seem readable. Reading Proust at Oxford
The book is actually about reading in Proust. Reading Reading Proust at Oxford? How circuitous!
I am still reading about Marcel and the sleeping Albertine. Marcel isn't reading; he is watching. Is Albertine like a princess who will awaken from a kiss? Albertine is a very human girl with faults and tics. I can perfectly understand why she lies all the time. She probably never envisioned the (somewhat) creepy household and practically being a captive in it. Granted, a captive in good clothes. She has very little life. Or does she? The narrator is obsessed with her, suspecting her of lesbianism, but then he suspects everyone. One gets the idea that everyone in Paris is at least bi-sexual. Maybe they were. What do I know?
Suspicions and imagination run rampant in the narrator's mind. That's what happens to a writer. He can't stop imagining. What if?