There is not a single metaphor in the text, as far as I can tell, and the extended metaphor (perhaps even the pataphor?) is one of Proust’s most salient literary characteristics.

Knausgaard calls his logorrheic autobiography, My Struggle ( Min Kamp), a “novel,” but in what sense is it a novel? It is completely devoid of novelistic properties. Those who compare Knausgaard to Proust have never read Proust and have no knowledge of Proust beyond the keyword “madeleine.” Those who have actually read À la recherche du temps perdu know that Proust’s great novel is not the direct presentation of its author, a self-disclosure without literary artifice. Comparing Knausgaard to Proust is like comparing John Green to Proust. Knausgaard does not have a fingernail of Proust’s genius. If I could accomplish one thing in my life, it would be to prevent people from comparing the Scandinavian hack Karl Ove Knausgaard with Marcel Proust. I don’t know how to sum it up / ’cause words ain’t good enough, ow.” –Oscar Wilde, Preface, The Picture of Dorian Gray To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s only aim.” “The artist is the creator of beautiful things. An Analysis of My Struggle ( Min Kamp): Volume Two (Karl Ove Knausgaard)