overpriced beer and cracker jacks

I went to a baseball game this evening, and decided that Proust is all about baseball. Or rather, he is all about that sensation you get when you walk into the stadium and everything expands from a cement corridor into a green swath full of bustle and voices and life. Or the feeling that trumpets summer, when you ride in a car at full speed with all the windows open and the sun beating down (burning your left arm but not your right), singing at the top of your lungs. What I mean to say is that Proust seems to be interested in capturing the moments that are full not only because they are beautiful but because they are essential - prototypical, repeatable, emblematic. When he launches into the epic similes it is always because something quintessential has occurred. Cue madeleine reference here. While I agree with Andre Aciman that style organizes and radiates energy into things, I might argue with his definition of style. One interesting point about Proust's writing is the way in which memory and "style" move closer and closer together: one might think about Proust's style as a way of remembering.