Score.  I found a two-volume set of Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time for only $15.  I’d only previously read Swann’s Way, so after a brief plot refresher, I’ve plunged headfirst into Within a Budding Grove.

I know, I know: you’re wicked jealous.

And on the theme of time, I shall leave you with this quote from David Ulin’s recent article in the LA Times about the lost art of reading:

…without time we lose a sense of narrative, that most essential connection to who we are. We live in time; we understand ourselves in relation to it, but in our culture, time collapses into an ever-present now. How do we pause when we must know everything instantly? How do we ruminate when we are constantly expected to respond? How do we immerse in something (an idea, an emotion, a decision) when we are no longer willing to give ourselves the space to reflect?