Táto monumentálna sága sa ponára hlboko do labyrintov pamäti a času, skúmajúc premeny ľudského vedomia a subjektívnu povahu reality. Skrze plynúci prúd spomienok a reflexií sa odvíja bohatá tapiséria spoločenských vzťahov, umenia a lásky. Dielo majstrovsky zachytáva nostalgiu po stratenej minulosti a hľadanie zmyslu v neustále sa meniace svete.
Scott Moncrieff's [volumes] belong to that special category of translations which are themselves literary masterpieces ... his book is one of those translations, such as the Authorized Version of the Bible itself, which can never be displaced A. N. Wilson
Marcel Proust whiled away the first half of his life as a self-conscious aesthete and social climber. The second half he spent in the creation of the mighty roman-fleuve that is Remembrance of Things Past, memorializing his own dandyism and parvenu hijinks even as he revealed their essential hollowness. Proust begins, of course, at the beginning--with the earliest childhood perceptions and sorrows. Then, over several thousand pages, he retraces the course of his own adolescence and adulthood, democratically dividing his experiences among the narrator and a sprawling cast of characters. Who else has ever decanted life into such ornate, knowing, wrought-iron sentences? Who has subjected love to such merciless microscopy, discriminating between the tiniest variations of desire and self-delusion? Who else has produced a grief-stricken record of time's erosion that can also make you laugh for entire pages? The answer to all these questions is: nobody.