We’ve all heard of him, and he is counted among the greatest authors of all time, but I readily admit that I have yet to read anything of his hand.
Proust (1871 – 1922) lived in that buzzing period, where France and in particular Paris was afloat in sensation in the arts, science, idealism and he was a part of the milieu of intellectual literates. However, little Valentin Louis Georges Eugène Marcel (or just plain Marcel to his friends) was a funny sort with his bulky eyes and sickly demeanor. He lived with his parents until they died – and only held more temporary position at literary journals and the like. He wrote novels and critics, tackling different subjects as the separation of church and state and homosexuality.