Letters to His Neighbor

(by Marcel Proust, translated by Lydia Davis)

These 26 letters by Proust to his upstairs neighbors (most are to Mme Williams; a few are to her husband) were a quick and pleasing read. There are photographic reproductions of some of the letters interspersed throughout the text and wow I do not envy anyone trying to read Proust’s handwriting – I struggled even when I was looking at the translation and trying to follow along. I also don’t envy the editors the task of determining the order of the letters, which are undated: there are sometimes references to events that give a clue, but it seems like a lot of guesswork. (There’s even a note to say that the order of the letters is different in this version than in the original French version because new information came to light between when that edition came out and when this one did.)

The letters themselves feature a lot of requests for quiet: Proust’s health was poor and his sleep schedule unusual, and he had to contend with both everyday sounds and more pronounced noise, since his neighbors were having work done on their apartment. Sometimes Proust asks outright for his neighbors to limit their noisemaking to certain times, as in this passage: “I have learned that the Doctor is leaving Paris the day after tomorrow and can imagine all that this implies for tomorrow concerning the “nailing” of crates. Would it be possible either to nail the crates this evening, or else not to nail them tomorrow until starting at 4 or 5 o’clock in the afternoon.” At other times he’s more indirect, like: “These days a plumber has been coming every morning from 7 to 9; this is no doubt the time he had chosen. I cannot say that in this my preferences agree with his!” But the letters also contain references to art and life: to travel and poetry and music, to flowers and friends and visits, and to the Great War (the letters are from approximately 1908 to 1918).

The letters were interesting as a glimpse into Proust’s life and a moment in time in Paris, and of course, I love Proust’s digressive style, which is as evident here as in his novels. I also very much appreciated Lydia Davis’s afterword, in which she provides added context about the building where Proust lived when these letters were written, as well as about her approach to the translation.