The Making of a Proust Scholar
On occasion, people have asked me how I could have spent a lifetime "working on a single man." I
take exception to that sort of loaded question because, in the first place, my work has never been
confined to Proust as a man. He had dated so few of his letters that I had to begin work by
acquainting myself with all of his writings as well as his life. And the bibliography of his
writings that I was able to constitute shows that he published far more than is generally assumed
of one whom many people consider to have been a dilettante. But more important than that, one
cannot work "on" Proust without embracing his entire universe, which was extraordinarily wide in
scope. In order to comprehend the mind that had written the works, it was necessary to steep myself
in the period in which he lived. And since, from his early years, he was fascinated with history, I
had to follow him there, too. But since, contrary to popular notions about him, Proust's interests
were so wide, I had to delve into music, painting, architecture, sculpture, botany, and other
realms. His principal concern, of course, was literature. And with his phenomenal memory, his
knowledge encompassed not only the centuries of French literature, prose as well as poetry, but the
writings of English and American novelists and philosophers, novelists of Russia and some other
European countries, mostly in translation. One cannot hope to comprehend Proust's world without
familiarity with these various worlds, too.
image of Kolb Consequently, the question about working on a single man is
somewhat like asking how one could listen "only" to the music of Johann Sebastian Bach. I could be
happy doing so, but can we not listen to Bach and still enjoy other composers as well? With Proust,
the work that needed to be done was endless, so it was indispensable to concentrate on him. But the
answer to the question is that, when the subject of one's inquiry is Proust, a lifetime would
scarcely suffice to permit exploration in depth of the innumerable facets of his universe. Nothing
could be more captivating than to explore the mind of such a genius-an intellect of such capacity,
an artist of such prodigious sweep and power, whose ability to move us, to make us feel the
beauties of nature, and the warmth of human affection was so great-or to observe how he reacted
when confronted with current events, how he judged his contemporaries, how his own ideas evolved
with the passage of time, or simply to observe what inspired him, how he created his characters and
episodes. In editing the correspondence of such a man, one should, of course, bear in mind that so
modest an endeavor cannot constitute one's sole aim, but rather it should be a means of attaining a
deeper comprehension of the work of the creative artist. In Proust's case, his correspondence
represents a special kind of work, since he never intended its publication. For the reader, it
offers a means of gaining a better understanding of his mind, his character, and, consequently, his
great work. And to the editor, delving into his writings has meant an unending enchantment, an
enrichment, and a widening of horizons.
Philip Kolb. "The Making of a Proust Scholar". The American Scholar, Vol. 53, Number 4
(Autumn 1984), pp. 506-513.
