Manny’s Reviews > Sodome et Gomorrhe > Status Update

And now, for your pleasure, Proust will arbitrarily interrupt the narrative and launch into an extended shout-out to his sassy housekeeper and her sassier sister. Take it away, Marcel!

Kids, don't do this without adult supervision.

« Ceci est encore assez Pelléas, fis-je remarquer à Mme de Cambremer-Legrandin. Vous savez la scène que je veux dire.—Je crois bien que je sais »; mais « je ne sais pas du tout » était proclamé par sa voix et son visage, qui ne se moulaient à aucun souvenir, et par son sourire sans appui, en l'air.

The two page long footnote about the stations on the route of the Tortillard does rather remind me of Monty Python's Neville Shunt sketch. ("That was an excerpt from the latest West End hit 'It all happened on the 11:20 from Hainault to Redhill via Horsham and Reigate, calling at Carshalton Beeches, Malmesbury, Tooting Bec and Croydon West'. The author is Mr. Neville Shunt.") And perhaps inspired it?

C'est sans doute l'existence de notre corps, semblable pour nous à un vase où notre spiritualité serait enclose, qui nous induit à supposer que tous nos biens intérieurs, nos joies passées, toutes nos douleurs sont perpétuellement en notre possession.

Dontcha just hate it when you're about to set off for the best masquerade ball of the year, you've got a terrific costume you've spent weeks discussing with your tailor, and then some self-important busybody turns up to inform you that your tedious elderly relative has gone and died, placing you under the infuriating obligation to observe the standard period of mourning?

Dès que Swann eut, en serrant la main de la marquise, vu sa gorge de tout près et de haut, il plongea un regard attentif, sérieux, absorbé, presque soucieux, dans les profondeurs du corsage, et ses narines, que le parfum de la femme grisait, palpitèrent comme un papillon prêt à aller se poser sur la fleur entrevue.

So much more poetic than "He checked out her tits".

Dontcha just hate it when you find out that your so-called friend has had a play commissioned and privately performed where one of the main characters sure looks a lot like you, and when you confront him about it he says, to the great amusement of everyone within earshot, don't worry, no one will think the actor is a bit like you really, everyone knows you're way dumber?

Dontcha just hate it when you have not merely been soaked to the skin after a stray gust of wind diverts the jet of a nearby fountain so that several gallons of water fall directly into your décolletage, but you then notice the Tsar's uncle, the Grand-Duke Vladimir, underlining your humiliation by slapping his thighs as he emits peal after peal of thunderous laughter?

Dontcha just hate it when you turn up to an exclusive society party where the whole Paris elite is in attendance, and discover that the servant charged with announcing your name is the cute guy you picked up a few days ago at a gay bar when you were pretending to be an English aristocrat?

Your linguistic fun fact for today: "Mene, Tekel, Upharsin" in French is "Mané, Thécel, Pharès". At least according to Proust.