Madeleine Dunkers discussion

Preliminary dates.

FFS, Marcel, just go to the damn theatre!

W.D. wrote: "FFS, Marcel, just go to the damn theatre!"

Haha! Agreed.

But it is glorious when he finally does go :D

Don't know what your favourite bit is so far, peeps, but my own is
early on in this volume: Noirpois' tirade about Bergotte. Awesome stuff!
:D

I would love to meet Noirpois just to hear him speak.

W.D. wrote: "Don't know what your favourite bit is so far, peeps, but my own is
early on in this volume: Noirpois' tirade about Bergotte. Awesome stuff!
:D"

Yes! This. Also when he so brutally dismisses the narrator's writing sample, saying something like "It would have been unkind of me to not overlook this".

I think I had a professor write something similar on a paper once...

Yes, Noirpois ("Black Peas?!" What's with that?!) is a prick, and a bore, and a philistine, but deliciously so!

W.D. wrote: "Yes, Noirpois ("Black Peas?!" What's with that?!) is a prick, and a bore, and a philistine, but deliciously so!"

Mmm...delicious peas.

Not if you're Woyzeck !

So just realized this reading at lunch...does your edition show his name as "Noirpois"? Because mine has him as "Norpois".

Jesus. I kept seeing that as noirpois for some reason, probably cos I liked my own idea of his name, which you've just gone and ruined for me...thanks?

(So what then is a Norpois?)

Moderator: delete this entire thread! It is based upon faulty scholarship!

I dismissed my night nurse, and reclined into that posture of solitary repose which is so necessary to reflection and to the solicitation of the parsimonious wardens of memory and insight--those reticent twins who must be coaxed from their hiding place in the soul, but who, once cajoled into discourse, never fail to offer us gifts more precious than those which the camels of the Magi bore upon their sturdy backs--and access to which is denied us so often over the course of a life marked by the hollow, fretful eventfulness of diurnal intercourse, and began to consider how I, not unlike Pierre Menard, author of Don Quixote, had come, in the heretofore abandoned smithy of my soul, to have had a hand in the re-creation of a seemingly uneventful interchange over a dinner (one memorably composed and yet tremulous with yet-unreleased energy, as in a painting of Bacchus by Caravaggio, via the miraculous, apparent sleight-of-hand of Francoise, who in the presence of the august personage of Mr. Norpois, had recalled for us all of those repasts that she had so inventively conjured for my Aunt Leonie, but which were until this very night denied to us), had come to so tragically insert that fateful vowel, like a bottle of illicit brandy smuggled in to the five franc seats at the back of the opera, into the ambassador's unforgettable surname, and to have it fixed there afterwards as if in the firmament of the night sky throughout my lonely flight through time. "Noirpois", I said, not only to myself but thence afterward to my few, always-besieged friends, friends who were too polite, too wholly bound to my bosom to draw attention to my gaffe, and who saw, in this slipping down the stairs of memory (balance upon which is no longer what once it was, if it had ever indeed been thus), which I took to be as from a great height, of considerable danger, but which in reality was really no greater than that of my bed, from which I had tumbled, caught (as I so often am) between wakefulness and sleep, and called out for my night nurse. "Noirpois", I repeated (after she had departed, muttering, it pains me to be cursed forever to recall I know not what), rubbing the tumescent lump on my much-abused cranium. "Black peas."
[To Be Continued?]

W.D. wrote: " [To Be Continued?]"

I had thought, perhaps, that it had been a trick of the faint light given off by the reading lamp my grandmother had purchased for me in the Rue de la Huchette, when she had, for a time, taken up in a parlour near there the game of Whist, a card game she ultimately came to regret ever having been associated with, given its 'dreadful Britishness,' as she later pronounced it when she could be baited into recalling those days when her usually unimpeachable judgement in matters of taste had become suddenly lax. When she had returned home with the lamp wrapped tightly in that morning's copy of Le Figaro, I was nearly in tears so great was my joy at the prospect of extending my nocturnal readings with such a delicate and marvelous object. I leapt upon my grandmother and assailed her with the most ardent kisses of gratitude until she nearly pushed me from her bosom, chuckling kindly to herself, and told me in her venerable and mellifluous voice, 'Go along and read now.' Of course at the time, when the lamp had yet to prove itself in battle, as it were, when it had yet to stake its reputation as stalwart 'leftenant' in my nightly navy as we sailed into wonders unending among the pages of a novel I cut with my little penknife so automatically the process became as natural to me as breathing, I could not have known that what appeared to me as a beautiful lamp capable of throwing off light as worthy to my eyes as the sun's yellow rays that lanced through the window of my Combray bedroom, was in reality a tawdry instrument bought off a gypsy tinker in an alleyway where tricks were turned with impunity. Indeed, I could not have known such a thing, for to my mind then my grandmother would have sooner been broken open upon the wheel than to frequent any place of ill repute, nor indeed could I have known my at once beloved lamp would betray my eyes with third-rate light into believing in the existence of a vowel that did not exist. Much later when my cherished comrade brought to my attention this betrayal of the lamp, I was heartbroken. I spent an inconsolable night sitting amid the shattered remains of the lamp I had once loved. At the same time, of course, my comrade who had so brutally disabused me of my spectral 'i' felt himself to be floating amid the wreckage of a frigate, and great was his chagrin at having raised a weak arm to point at what he took to be another ship, rescue perhaps, abob at the horizon, but that was in reality a mirage sailing into a hell of tormented dreaming. Had he expired then, afloat on a blasted timber, he might have whispered, at last breath, as it passed between his salt lips 'I had believed I was the discoverer of...a mistake by M. Moncrieff.'

[To Be Continued? Because frankly, such tomfoolery as this is the one thing we can offer the masses that NO OTHER Proust group can]

Also, is it just you and me for volume 2, W.D.?

Scott do you still exist? Uday?

ATJG wrote:

Also, is it just you and me for volume 2, W.D.?

Scott do you st..."

I'm still alive! I'm only about 200 pages in though. I think he loves Mme Swann more that Gilberte at this point. His description of Bergotte's writing is fabulous and, I think, a reflection of his own writing, or at least what the critics think of his writing.

Scott wrote: "I'm still alive!."

Boomshakalaka!

We few, we proud, and so on and so on.

ATJG wrote: "[To Be Continued? Because frankly, such tomfoolery as this is the one thing we can offer the masses that NO OTHER Proust group can]

Well, Tomfoolery is about all I gots....
In other news, this just in from a friend:


Am just working through a book by a guy called Graham Robb who has done well received biographies of people like Balzac, Hugo and Rimbaud. He devotes a section to Proust and in it he says of A La Recherche .. "with its gleaming inscrutability, the flawless circuitry of its sentences and its bewildering modes of efficiency, belonged to the new world as much as passenger aeroplanes and the Theory of Relativity." Thought you might be interested in that assessment.

Putting aside Tom (not to mention Dick and Harry) foolery for just a second, I got the new (PM me if you need) Penguin ebook of Vol II just for the notes (and maybe, some day hence a second read-through), and found this in the translator's intro, which I had unconsciously bristled at when it came up in the novel and then chalked up as just one of the many things I wasn't meant to understand:

And the only other mention of Dreyfus ( p. 387 ) may suggest that the summer which the narrator and his grandmother spend at Balbec is that of 1898, one of the Affair’s acutest phases. (Despite which, the volume contains passing references to the Russo-Japanese war of 1905 and to the King of England.)

And so, for once, I was not wrong. Vindicated, woo-hoo!

One more thing:
If, like me, you were wondering why, in an English translation we get untranslated French (WTF!?) poetry (À Saint-Blaise, à la Zuecca, Vous étiez, vous étiez bien aise … without forgetting: Padoue est un fort bel endroit ... etc. etc.) this from the Penguin translator James Grieve should muddy things up a little: ": these lines from Musset’s Poésies nouvelles , so fragmentary as to be barely translatable, speak of places: Padua, Le Havre, Venice, etc."

[OK, now back to our regularly scheduled program]

George wrote: "Well, I did audible free, and got a free download of this. I will listen to catch up by January if that is what the plan. Am I one or two books behind?"

Three, George! That's only a few hundred hours of listening, though, I'm sure!

Oh, I think I exaggerated ever so slightly slightly, sir ;)

Tea?!
We are Madeleine Dunkers, damnit!
And (may I remind you?) what we be a-dunken-in is the aforementioned Single Malt Scotch, the peatier the better...

A mug of Oban will be raised to you tonight sir :)

A very fine choice indeed (and my father's favourite).
Now, all we need is for ATJG to follow through on shipping those case of rare American Pale Ales that he has lately discovered for chasers, and we are in business!

When we finish this bigazz novel, I'll send everybody a sixpack.

Trouble is though, I don't think they do the fresh hop thing except on tap, at least I haven't come across it yet in any portable way outside of a growler. I also tried to get a place on the coast to fill up my growler with clam chowder once. Shit was that good. Just thought I'd ask.

Anyhoo, George, I'm really glad you're rejoining the whole sick crew. I'll get around to updating the reading dates, but probably going to have volume four begin after the new year, with a few days grace.

And now I'm craving Scotch at 8:00 in the a.m.

He hasn't said. All I have heard are intimations of hoptical immortality....

George wrote: "Which American Pale Ale is it? Hoping to find in Tennessee if possible."

Also, I'm in Nashville from time to time. Any interest/possibility of raising a pint one day?

And ATJG your comment did not appear on my phone until after I made my own... 😊

W.D. wrote: "He hasn't said. All I have heard are intimations of hoptical immortality...."

So, forgot to tell you this. Until recently I'd only found fresh hop IPAs, but there's a place that has fresh hop Kolsch and an Amber. Unlike anything I've ever tasted before, and I've taken wide samples of what's available...

And as far as "what kind"? They're all from microscopic microbreweries. The best one is from a place called Pints up by the river, just outside of Chinatown, and the aforementioned Kolsch and Amber are from a place called Kells. I will gather more info on your behalf(s).

So, I'm a new hand on Whiskey Ranch yous guys, still pretty green, don't know much and follow my nose/tongue to what's good. Any favorites I need to seek out?

Just had a friend in town from the Motor City and he brought a bottle of something called "Johnny Smoking Gun Badlands Whiskey", either of you learned gentlemen heard of it?

Don't know that one man, more an Old Country drinker... Laphroaig is definitely a must as well as the aforementioned two... Irish whiskey like Bushmills or Jamesons are great introductory drams. Saw another called Poet's Tears the other day tho I've had enough of those!

W.D. wrote: "Don't know that one man, more an Old Country drinker... Laphroaig is definitely a must as well as the aforementioned two... Irish whiskey like Bushmills or Jamesons are great introductory drams. Sa..."

"Poet's Tears" hits a little close to home, I agree, but I'd buy it when nobody's looking. I have Jamesons and Dr. Walker's Amber Restorative on the CV, so going after the Laphroaig, Oban, and Lagavulin, per your directive.

George wrote: "like drinking a smoky ocean"

You know just what to say...

I have never tried Redbreast! But I will buy it (or the Tears?) this weekend and let you know. I am also all in for a beer-up somewheres when this mother is put to bed. Oban is pricey, be forewarned! I also really, really like old (12 years or more) rums neat in the glass -- not unlike a cognac/whiskey combination. Cuban is favourite (Havana Club barrel proof) , but you Imperialist running dogs could settle for Diplomatico Reserva Exclusiva or El Dorado 21 (great value for money compared to Scotch)

Ahh, there's a Writer's (Writers' ?!) in addition to Poet's Tears?

I will also look for Hibiki next time in TO. (T-dot, The 6, blah blah). memories of Bill Murray doing Suntory Whiskey ads in that pedo movie he did...

ATJG, gonna need that six-pack ASAP I'm afraid, as I just wasted my $$ on a couple of mediocre Ontario APAs. ("We want the finest [PINTS] available to humanity. We want them here, and we want them now" <<--best movie ever made!)

George, heard good things about the Predators fans in your town. Youse honorary Canuckistanians.

Boys, I am drinking and it's just 5pm. One of my pups might have the C-word--just back from the vet. Not to get too too maudlin on yas, but I am raising my glass and singing youse the Lowenbrau song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oUBa...

W.D. wrote: "Bill Murray doing Suntory Whiskey ads"

Be more mysterious.

W.D. wrote: "One of my pups might have the C-word"

I'm really sorry to hear that buddy. Our thoughts will be with you. Hope it turns out to be nothing.

Thanks Ash. I try not to get too too personal, but when it comes to pups, well, all bets are off, and as David Johannsen said in another Bill Murray flick, "That's exactly what Attila the Hun said. But when he saw his [pup]... Niagara Falls!"

Thanks George, which whisky izzit?

Yeah, probably! Let's call it the Dixième Arrondissement:
https://www.francetoday.com/travel/pa...