For many years I've been slowly working on improving my French. I went through a few courses and practiced enough that I am capable of reading, although writing and conversation are still a work in progress. Even reading is a mixed bag. Scientific articles were pretty straightforward with the right technical dictionary. And I had a pretty easy time with Albert Camus's L'Étranger. However, I got stuck a chapter or two into Gustav Flaubert's Madame Bovary, and while I finished Guy de Maupassant's Pierre et Jean, there were several sections I didn't quite make out.
My most recent accomplishment is finishing the reading of René Daumal's ironically unfinished Le Mont Analogue. Like Bovary, I had to restart it several times. But a few months ago, I decided I was going to finish it. I sat down for about half an hour at a time with several French-English dictionary, and whenever I got stuck, I would consult those. If they failed me, I would use the internet. It took me until this week, as I did not do this daily. But I did it! I have the last of a few appendices added by the editor to this edition, but the novel itself, as well as an outline including the missing chapters, I am through with. Not quite as satisfying as finishing a finished work, but an achievement nonetheless.
The main problem for me with the novel was the sheer amount of, well, novel vocabulary I had to contend with. Analogue Mountain's subtitle is "A Novel of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean Adventures in Mountain Climbing." It involved a lot of specificities regarding mountains and the climbing thereof, the details of paths and glaciers, natural and supernatural environment, as well as allegories for same. In short, many, many words unfamiliar to me, some of them too technical for my small dictionaries, while others, like péradam, were made up for the novel.
When I ran into a long sentence or several that made use of unfamiliar vocabulary, in order to keep all of them in my mind and make sense of the reading, I had to resort to a tool I usually struggle with - visualization. I found that if I could try and hold, even fleetingly, to the form of, say, Pierre Sogol's bizarre museum of human knowledge, or to the image described in a verse by the poet Alphonse Camard, I could move forward. As hard as that was, holding the separate meanings of the words in my head was harder.
I have subsequently found myself making the effort to visualize when reading fiction in English, as well, with mixed success. In fields where visual reasoning is paramount, I have in the past scribbled or drawn diagrams so that I could have the visualizations in front of me, and give my brain a rest. But maybe it's not too late to teach myself to go without.