What if life’s meaning isn’t in finding new answers — but in looking again, with new eyes?

I was reluctant to write a blog about a monumental and profound topic I’m wholly unequipped to speak on in any comprehensive way. That’s because it’s a seven-volume novel of which I’ve read about one third. Even getting that far, I’ve felt the need to start over realizing I hadn’t digested nearly enough of what the pages had to offer. I’ve been investing my time in it going on five years now, and I can still only say I’m a neophyte at best. 

I am, however, an authority on my experience. And in reading Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time I can tell you it has become a companion in my life. I say ‘in’ my life, not ‘to’ my life because it’s quite common for me to experience Proustian moments where I can’t help but see the world in a fresh way. That and along with picturing Proust himself saying to me,

“See what I’m talking about?”

Let me explain. In my humble way, the best I can do is offer some paraphrasing of Howard Moss in The Magic Lantern of Marcel Proust. Proust takes a microscope to situations to focus on the most intricate details with nothing too insignificant to be worth mentioning. At the same time, he gives us a grander scope, which is how the minutia of his characters’ perceptual lives play a significant role in all the others. 

And nothing is fixed once and for all. The past, present, and future moments are all entangled and are constantly changing the interpretations of the others.

And these interpretations will never end. There will never be a final version of anything that is experienced. Never a final version of yourself, what you think of everyone, what you think they think of you, and on and on. No moment in time can be perceived without being influenced by a lot of others. 

This plays out in the Search in innumerable ways; How where one is feels solid and limiting, while where one is not is imbued with enchantment, with each one being neither. How individuals become ‘types.’ And how the tiniest facial gesture when someone is speaking can be construed one way but then another way altogether when more information is revealed. 

For me, these Proustian moments are emphasized to me all the time like when I run into someone I haven’t seen in a long time. Not only do they look different, but they’re so far removed from the specific context in which I knew them it takes effort to even consider them one and the same person. (Something notable I think could classify as Proustian is when we look back on the fashion trends from 40 years ago and laugh. Where exactly did all that hipness disappear to?)

There’s a classic sketch by the comedy troupe Monty Python in which the contestants on a gameshow must try and summarize Proust in 15 seconds. They end up spewing a torrent of abstruse and incoherent remarks resulting in ridiculous gobbledygook. At this point, I couldn’t even do in any amount of allotted time.

But I don’t have to summarize Proust. And neither does anyone. I can only tell how my reading of him has inspired me to always see my life in fresh ways. What can seem like an insurmountable problem at one point can feel a trifle in the next.

To take the words right out of his mouth, “The real destination consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

A book that’s around 1.2 million words is typically considered daunting, but why? Books aren’t mountains that you can’t just stop climbing halfway up if you feel you’re in danger, or worse, if you feel like it’s just not your thing. The word I prefer in describing it is inexhaustible in that there’s always more to be learned from it. 

And that’s why I’m not itching to finish In Search of Lost Time. I don’t see it as a linear passage to some final goal to be achieved. Because neither are our lives, and none of us can ever be summed up.

Books aren’t mountains you need to conquer. And neither are the people who write them.

Alistair Doolittle and the Young Pinkertons is my first book — and like this blog, it’s less about arrival and more about exploration.

If you’re curious, I’d love to share it with you. Reservations are now open.