Marching with Marcel

The question of what to take to read always entertains me before leaving home, but there is more pressure to get it right when there won't be bookshops along the way nor battery power to spare for an ereader.

The answer is easy. Take the book that wrestles with why we squander time, why we forget to live in the now. Reading it will satisfy a long-standing curiosity and make me feel smug all at once.

Of course, it is also the book that drives French school kids to despair and was written by a seriously ill man who rarely travelled out of his bedroom.

Yes, I'm talking about In Search Of Lost Time by Marcel Proust. My copy runs to 2400 pages, roughly 4 pages every 5 kilometres.

In French. So it might be more book than I need!

Tonight I cut the whole volume into sections and I will offload pages as I read them (loo paper, fire starters, origami cranes...). I will pick up installments along the way.

It was Bernard Levin who inspired me to discard pages as they are read but when I did it myself in a transit lounge once, the flight was delayed until ground staff were convinced the other half of the book wasn't dangerous.

Marching with Marcel should be less exciting.