I love the writings of Proust, and reading this collection of his letters left me a bittersweet taste. Bitter, because most of the content of the letters is not very interesting - a few details about his work, some good depictions of his relationships with friends, a lot of details about his routine and his illness, but mostly nothing that adds significantly to his books, articles and essays. Sweet, because it's always an immense pleasure to read his elegant prose and to be reminded of his masterpiece, that was really a milestone in my life, and that I plan to reread soon, this time in French - what better way to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the publication of Du Côté de Chez Swann?
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