Swann’s Way by Marcel Prousttrans. C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence KilmartinVintage, 1989 (this translation originally Chatto & Windus, 1981)

I’ve been reading Swann’s Way slowly over the past month, enjoying Proust’s slow circling sentences (the kind you have to read twice because by the end you’ve lost track of where it started), enjoying the digressions, the flashes of humor in the dialogue, and enjoying, of course, all those sense-images (lilac trees, tisane, the light and heat of a summer day as perceived from a cool darkened room, the hawthorns in May, winter sun on an iron balustrade, pigeons in the park).