Forget Proust

I have given up on Swann's Way at about halfway through. Its wordiness, banal introspection and swirling sentences make me want to shout! It is like reading glue. I was hip deep in a muddy plot that is barely discernable through the haze. Spare me the elegies on the wonderful observation and detail - I too remember tea with my great-grandmother as a small boy.

I read one sentence (not even a particularly long one) to Amanda and she wondered if the text had been edited at all. She would have taken the knife to it for sure.

I have taken up Anna Karenina - more interest in the first chapter than the whole first half of Proust.

PS This entry is partly brought to you by the guilt of not making a blog entry today.

PPS Spent most of the day banging my head with readers fields being used to limit which documents get replicated between servers. So far the behaviour seems non-deterministic. I'll let you know if a pattern emerges.