MONSIEUR PROUST: A Memoir

by Celeste Albaret ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 1, 1976

No one has known me as you have."" These are Proust's words for his ""dear Celeste"" who came to him, as arranged by her taxi-driving husband Odilon before she was 22, initially to run errands, later to become the sine qua non of his household which she joined permanently in WW I, after his manservant and Odilon were called up. Celeste stayed with Proust until his death in 1922, sharing his shuttered existence and upside-down life (the day began in the afternoon), going out at all hours to get him a little fish, sole or whitebait, which he ate peckishly, catering to his ultrasensitivity of mood or hygiene--a towel which could only be used once or the germ-proofed gloves he finally wore in bed. She was a very innocent young woman, a quality retained here (recorder Georges Belmont must be commended) along with her absolute loyalty to the man who confided in her increasingly and randomly. She attests to his goodness, will power, perfectionism; even his captious and mistrustful tyranny passes without rebuke. At this point in Proust's diminishing lifespan he was constantly mindful of the urgency of his work (""I want my work to be a sort of cathedral in literature"") and he held his former haute monde at bay. But she corrects as ""nonsense"" much of what was said about him then and later. The mutual hatred between mother and son ""at the root of their love"" (this from George Painter's official sourcebook) is expressed here far more simply by her Monsieur--""the day Mother died, she took her little Marcel with her."" In this primarily domestic portrait, the works do not come under analysis but Celeste is obviously familiar with all of them. She talks at some length about his circle--there were no close friends save Baron de Charlus/Count Robert de Montesquiou. Proust once said ""I don't write novels for people to read on the train."" This should however find many passengers--this unaffected close-up of the great genius, muffled in pullovers and hot water bottles in that claustral cork-lined room. A loving commemorative of life as it was du cote de chez Proust.

Pub Date: March 1, 1976

ISBN: N/A

Page Count: -

Publisher: McGraw-Hill

Review Posted Online: N/A

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 1976

Categories: NONFICTION