Now on page 255

I'm still working away at Proust. Now I'm on about page 255 of the final volume (something like 750 pages more).

I have gotten tired of the obsessive nature of the narrator. Poor Albertine. Poor anyone who knows this guy. The jealousy, the insecurity, the constant strong emotion. Yet I'm trusting that Proust is leading me, the reader, along as he plans.

I am glad that a few pages back the narrator stopped going on about Albertine and started to discuss music. I needed some respite.