Stuttering

Page: 104
Pages read since last post: 104
Days elapsed reading Proust: 29 (16, 13*)
Books read since last Post: 3 (Jan Morris, Hav; Haruki Murakami (ed.), Birthday Stories; Woody Allen, Mere Anarchy)

I write this on the eve of my surrendering an outright share of the lead to M. Garrood. I am relaxed about this.

My ever so slow start to Volume 2 is even slower than is immediately apparent since at least 75 pages were knocked off on an Easyjet flight home from Munich. I attribute this inactivity to a number of causes.

Firstly, it was clearly a mistake purchasing all 5 remaining volumes en masse. Instead of monitoring my progress through a single volume and thus maintaining momentum, I can only see my meagre progress in terms of the entire novel. The edition we are using displays a rather glowering portrait of Proust tugging on the lapels of his jacket along the spines of the volumes when placed adjacent to each other and in the correct order. I have, thus far, not even reached the great man's kneecap - his splendid whiskers remain nearly two volumes away!

Secondly, I have recently moved job, sold a flat, bought a house, contemplated the move, made several trips back to Oxford and generally felt rather unsettled in my life. Scant opportunity therefore for idling away the hours with ALRDTP.

Thirdly, I have been distracted by some fairly wonderful and crucially, shorter, other books. Morris is a national treasure, and Hav is one of her most glorious books - every bit as enthralling as her other travel books on Venice, Oxford and the ascent of Everest, but all the more remarkable, given Hav is an entirely fictional place. Birthday Stories is a mixed bag, but an interesting enough one. Mere Anarchy, whilst lacking some of the punch of his earlier prose collections, is a worthy product of Allen's genius for the surreal, bizarre and generally absurd.

So, the plan. I will take M. Garrood's advice, I think, and devote a chunk of this weekend to allowing myself to be swallowed up by the prose. I agree, by the way, that this volume is superior to much of volume 1, which makes my inability to read it even more frustrating. Hopefully I can break the back of it this weekend, and perhaps hold on for a 2nd place finish. If not, I will remain in lethargy, knowing at least, by way of consolation, that Proust would almost certainly approve.