In the course of our recently completed “Reading Proust at University Press Books” series, the word came up in discussing a passage describing an herbal infusion of lime flowers—the same beverage that famously figures into the earlier episode of the narrator’s dipping a crumb of madeleine in lime flower tea and having the taste inspire memories of his childhood in the French village of Combray. As we read the passage aloud in our meeting—a custom of which we’d become fond, the best way, we found, to savor such delicious prose—one phrase in particular jumped out at us. As Marcel looks into the tangle of blossoms and stems, looking more and more deeply, as with a dissecting microscope, into its layers, noting “a thousand, small useless details,” he refers to “the charming prodigality of the pharmacist” (who had prepared the infusion). We were puzzled by that word choice, common to the several translations we were reading from, and went to the French to find that it was indeed Proust’s word—“prodigalite.” Why just that word, not the one would expect in regards to a pharmacist? As we looked into the matter together, other shadings came forth, generous being one. Even after the discussion the matter continued to preoccupy us, and there was a subsequent string of emails regarding pharmacists and herbalists, lime blossoms and lindens, and inevitably, etymology. From the O.E.D.:

PRODIGAL

1 spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant : “prodigal habits die hard.”

2 having or giving something on a lavish scale : “the dessert was crunchy with brown sugar and prodigal with whipped cream.” See note at profuse.

Wastefully extravagant, lavish, abundant, profuse: the prodigality of the pharmacist also stands for the sumptuousness of Proust’s prose as well as the equally extravagant luxury of reading it. (Who has the time anymore!)  But whether indulging in a lavish dessert or lavish literature, the delight is doing so in good company. And so, in our readings and discussions we indulged in a prodigality of reading pleasures. A different approach, indeed, to that of the marathon. Reading our relatively brief selections (adding up to around 30 of the 3,000 pages, or 1% of the total), the matter of length did not daunt us, did not even occur to us. A word, a phrase, a passage, contains worlds. As Proust himself said of his madeleine epiphany, villages and churches, parks and rivers, emerged from his cup of tea.

Note the heads in this image of the audience listening to the man half-hidden on the right on November 29, 2011 during a  UPB Conversation with Brandi Catanese on her book The Problem of the Color(blind): Racial Transgression and the Politics of Black Performance published by Michigan.    William McClung

Maybe Metier — as Callenbach and Bensky have suggested — is a better word: métier . . . .a trade, profession, or occupation : those who work honestly at their métier.• an occupation or activity that one is good at : she decided that her real métier was grand opera.• an outstanding or advantageous characteristic : subtlety is not his métier. ORIGIN late 18th cent.: French, based on Latin ministerium ‘service.’  Oxford American Dictionary

That’s about work and money, of course, but there is more than that in this.

It is also about beauty, intense interest, carefulness, and art.  Take a look at Vermeer’s marvelous painting of The Procuress below.  At our our best, I think that is what we are about, too — buying and selling, beautiful presentations, intense interest and value, social pleasures.          William McClung

Callenbach in his thoughtful way writes:

“A sense of professionalism always, I think, involves some kind of community of colleagues—who influence, educate, and sometimes discipline each other. It is not a matter of certification, or even accumulation of an agreed canon of knowledge, but a social process. And so it thrives in societies where merit is appreciated more than connections, where hard work is respected no matter its mental or physical  aspects, and where a significant public recognizes the deserved reputations of the professionals.

“But I actually like better the French concept of metier, which can include bakers, street-sweepers, laundresses, waiters, taxi-drivers, and certainly book-sellers on any level: anyone who does a job with maximum finesse, sensitivity, perfection, for all to see. . . .”

The challenging work of selecting and selling serious  books to intellectuals awash in alternatives has, I maintain, potentially all those characteristics, much like publishing itself.   I want my dermatologist to be a professional in every way, though what he does every six months is tediously (for him) look at the pre-cancerous spots on my face and shoulders and then zap them with liquid nitrogen.  Part of professionalism is to do work, over and over again, that is repetitive for you, but highly important for each recipient.  And there is a great deal of knowledge, skill, and care in doing so well.  William McClung

Tannen describes the consequences of what she sees as a culture of argument and critique in our society.  In academia, this is manifested in a sense that only negative commentary shows truly critical thinking.  In journalism, there is a compulsion to frame everything in terms of two opposing sides.  This precludes more nuanced multisided approaches and in some cases overlegitimizes fringe opinions unsupported by fact.  Also, too frequently the press feels it’s done its job by presenting two sides without taking the added step of investigating the truth of their arguments.   Meanwhile, in politics, there is a downward spiral of public discourse into increasingly partisan vituperation.  Sound familiar?

In light of the current debate in Washington, the following quotes seem especially apt:  “The term ‘compromise’ has two senses.  It can mean ‘weaken, undermine, destroy’….  It can also mean ‘give in for the purpose of reaching agreement.’  The first sense of the word is decidedly negative, but the second sense could well be positive.  In recent years, even this sense of the word has taken on negative connotations….  There was a time when the ability to compromise was considered a great strength.  Henry Clay…was called the ‘Great Compromiser’ — and this was said with admiration.”

The Argument Culture is still available in paperback, and we are going to reorder it for our stock at UPB.  If enough people read and act upon it, who knows — maybe we can start to change the public discourse for the better.

Sorayya Carr, UPB   /   Posted on July 30, 2011

Hanna Darling reads from Gabriel Garcia Marquez

On January 24th, University Press Books began our second year of Slow Reading Dinners. We were pleased to see several familiar faces from 2010 around the great table. Nick Crump read some “luminous bits” from Joinville’s Chronicles, transporting the assembled to the Near East of the Seventh Crusade. His lovely wife Eleanor treated us to some equally-luminous passages from Peter Ackroyd’s Venice. The bookstore’s own Nicola De Robertis-Theye read from Swann’s Way,translated afresh by Lydia Davis. As an amuse bouche, Chris McCormick followed with two of Davis’ very crisp short stories. New faces also graced the table. Zoe Klippert, author of An Englishwoman in California (Bodelian Library), read from Louis Menand. Cal sophomores Hannah Darling and Prachi Naik also joined us for the first time, lending fresh voices to to some old favorites (One Hundred Years of Solitude and Beloved, respectively.). Please RSVP for the February dinner, on the 28th. Chef Erick is on sabbatical, so talented chef Maja Gluhovic is stepping in to surprise us with Balkan specialties!