Letters to His Neighbor - Tapa dura

Literary people know that at the sentence level and the word level Lydia Davis is the best there is.--Michael Silverblatt

A sensitive and direct translation. Lydia Davis does us a great service in bringing back Proust.--Claire Messud

Proust whining rhapsodically about the sounds of frolicking children on the other side of his bedroom wall, as translated by Lydia Davis -- what's not to love here?--Evan Lavender-Smith

In true Proustian fashion, the prose is winding, musing on everything from the properties of imagination.--Caitlin Youngquist

A trove of charming correspondence from literature's most famous 'noise phobic.'

If you have suffered from noisy neighbours, you will sympathize with Marcel Proust.

Proust elevated grumbling to an art.--Jessica Leigh Hester"The Art of Complaining About Noise" (07/12/2017)

Entertaining.--Kevin Canfield"Nonfiction: 'Letters to His Neighbor, ' by Marcel Proust" (08/18/2017)

One wonders if the headaches of apartment living might even have inspired him, as a worthy enemy might goad one to action.

"A collection of letters to the neighbours about noise would seem unpromising material for a book, unless they were written by Marcel Proust, who was so sweet, kind, funny and charming that his letters of complaint, written between 1909 and 1919 to Marie Williams and her husband, are a delightful surprise."

Marcel Proust’s genius for illuminating pain is on spectacular display in this recently discovered trove of his correspondence, Letters to His Neighbor. Already suffering from noise within his cork-lined walls, his poor soul was not ready for the fresh hell when his neighbor Dr. Williams married a widow with small children.Chiefly to Mrs. Williams, these ever-polite letters (often accompanied by flowers, compliments, books, even pheasants) are frequently hilarious—Proust couches his fury in a gracious tone. In Lydia Davis’s hands, the digressive brilliance of his sentences shines: “Don't speak of annoying neighbors, but of neighbors so charming (an association of words contradictory in principle since Montesquiou claims that most horrible of all are 1) neighbors 2) the smell of post offices) that they leave the constant tantalizing regret that one cannot take advantage of their neighborliness.”Proust makes fine distinctions among his auditory torments: “The valet de chambre makes noise and that doesn't matter. But later he knocks with little tiny raps. And that is worse.”Lydia Davis has written a generous translator’s note, tracing much of what we can know about Proust’s perpetually dark room; she details the furnishings as well as the life he lived there: burning his powders, talking with friends, hiring musicians, and, most of all, suffering. Letters to His Neighboris richly illustrated with facsimile letters and photographs—catnip for lovers of Proust.With an Introduction by Jean-Yves Tadié and a translator’s note by Lydia Davis.