If You Give Proust a Cookie...

In this blog post I am going to attempt to delve into the life of Marcel Proust. I found the story of The Cookie from “Remembrance of Things Past” to be not just engaging, but intriguing from a literary standpoint. I found it easy to tell that Proust was talking more than about the memory of the “petite madeleines”, which he slowly recalls throughout the section. The most obvious message is that the cookie itself rekindled a sense of joy in Proust. It is clear that when Proust initially sits down at the table, he is in a sour mood. He begins the section stating that “many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray…had any existence for me.” To say that he feels like the place in which he resides hardly is even real, scream disconnection and unhappiness, perhaps even depression. Then, upon eating the medaleine that his mother gave him, his mood is vastly changed. He compares the experience to the “effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence.” Love is inarguably one of the most powerful emotions and experiences in both the real world and the literary world, so to make such a comparison in regards to eating a cookie with some tea, must have a stronger meaning than simply that he was happy. No, Proust is telling us something more here. I have an idea of what it is, but let’s delve further first.

            As he attempts to discover what exactly the sensation is that he had just experienced, Proust takes a second and then a third drink of his tea and states “the potion is losing its magic.” This reference to what is no doubt a love potion, suggests that perhaps there is something going on with Proust that is greater than disconnection. Love is a powerful force, and the word “magic” itself implies that it is a hard force to combat. The fact that it is dwindling suggests that whatever Proust’s internal battle is, it is one of great magnitude. And, within the next few lines, Proust even states that “the truth I am seeking lies not in the cup by in myself.” He is aware of this internal struggle, which makes it all the worse. Denial is commonly the hardest thing to overcome when one suffers from feelings of depression, and being aware of the depression can have a self-inducing effect. This is, in fact, supported by many of the things Proust says about himself throughout the novel.

            I’d like to take a moment to step aside and address the paper by Jonah Lerer, “Proust: The Method of Memory”, which analyzes many literary aspects of Proust’s writing, including specifically that of “Remembrance of Things Past.” It is clear that Lerer sees Proust as a little self-involved and, for lack of better words, stuck-up. He makes the comment that “the cookie is merely a convenient excuse for Proust to explore his favorite subject: himself” (p. 79). Lerer’s critical attitude toward this aspect of Proust’s writing is clear, and supported later by his sarcastic comment, “luckily for literature, Proust decided to put the cookie in his mouth” (p.81). Albeit his slightly cynical attitude, Lerer also admits that Proust was on to something. At first it does indeed seem like Proust is simply going on and on about how delicious this tea is…or at least he thinks it was the tea. Toward the end of the story Proust realizes that this equal-to-the-essence-of-love experience was actually evoked by the cookie. This can be guessed by the reader before Proust reaches this realization, from the title of the section, The Cookie. The point is, he seems so in to this tasty experience that the story seems to serve no purpose really, to the casual reader. Why does Proust focus so much of his attention on this cookie? He even admits that his mind was “tiring itself without any success to report”, and over a simple cookie! No, there must be more to the story. And, in fact, there is. Lerer points out that during the same year of the Madeleine, 1911, “psychologists had no idea how the senses connected inside the skull” (p. 79-80). But Proust, a boy who grew up in a rich family as a shy and sheepish boy, who was eventually forced to stay in his room for days due to the extremity of his asthma, had stumbled upon a notable neuroscience breakthrough! He had found the connection between the senses of smell and taste and a person’s memory. In fact, the area of the brain in charge of these things has been found, in more recent years, to be connected. You may have had a similar sensory experience in your life. I personally cannot each pot pies anymore, because when I was very little I had one right before getting the flu and, well, we all know what happens when you get a bad case of the flu. Proust was a neurological genius! However, let’s not celebrate too quickly. Proust’s achievement was much greater than I am sure he realized. But there is more to discuss than his extraordinary revelations about the mind and memory. I am still curious about Proust’s background and what else may be going on, so let’s find our way back to the previous story.

            Anyway, so Proust was clearly in a sour mood, and it seems like this wasn’t just a “bad day” or even a “bad week”. There was definitely an emotional battle going on within. Proust makes references to a darkness within himself, mentioning things such as the fact that the memory was “palpitating in the depths of my being”, or that it had “sunk back into its darkness”. He even makes the comment that he must “lean down over the abyss.” These comments are very disturbing because it is very evident that Proust is very aware of his problem, and up until now, has done nothing to remedy it. What a sad, dismal life to lead.

            After a little bit of research, I discovered something very interesting. Proust’s parents passed away within two years of each other. His father passed in 1903, followed by his mother two years later. This actually ended up sending him to a sanatorium, where he resided for two months. Then, a few years later, “A Remembrance of Things Past” was published. If you recall, the cookie that Proust was so stimulated by was given to him by his mother. He is clearly portraying her as not only loving, but also the source essentially of his happiness, and love. Furthermore, when he finally is able to retrieve the long-lost memory of the Madeleine, he remembers that it came from his Aunt Leonie, whom he used to visit every Sunday morning. It is implied that he had a somewhat significant relationship with this family member. His comment soon after retrieving the memory states that “when from a long-distant path nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell along…remain poised a long time.” Proust is remembering more than the fact that his aunt used to give him cookies when he was younger. This memory is representative for him of the familial love he has lost in the past. From the sounds of things, Proust at this point is a very lonely human being, speaking of himself as being filled with darkness and depth. And yet, he is writing it all down. He is disguising it, but I believe he was actually coming to terms with many of the losses he has had to experience, in this way.

What seemed to be a sad, unresolved story, may not actually be so. It is hard to tell. Proust is not a man of many joys, that is for certain. However, in The Cookie I believe that he was expressing how he was finally able to come to terms with what he had lost: through the memory of a sweet treat. Memories are curious in that way, often connected to the littlest, most insignificant of things. And what a feat it is, to portray this through a simple memory of tea and a cookie. Yet, that is why we write, isn’t it? To tell stories. And to tell them the way we want to tell them. I may not be right in all of this. But that’s the fun of the game.