"In other words" by Jhumpa Lahiri (Bloomsbury, 2017)

A book of articles (dual language - English/Italiano) that initially appeared in Internazionale. In the "Author's Note" she writes that "Apart from obligatory correspondence, I have written exclusively in Italian for more than two years" (p.xiii). She wrote the book in Italian, in Italy. It's translated by Ann Goldstein.

She was born in London, and brought up in the States, using Bengali until she went to school. After that, Bengali remained the preferred language at home, her mother trying to stay as Indian as possible. She's multi-talented (several degrees, a Ph.D. in Renaissance Studies, a Pulitzer for her first book of short stories - though she writes "I received a prize that I was sure I did not deserve, that seemed to me a mistake", p.167).

I know several people who suddenly had to cope in a new language. I've read about people who, because of brain injury, etc, struggle with language. I'm not convinced that Lahiri's experiences of learning a new language are any more interesting than theirs. There's no humour in this book, and her insights and observations sound rather mundane to me. She thinks that

• "Reading in another language implies a perpetual state of growth, of possibility" (p.41)
• "reading in a foreign language is the most intimate way of reading" (p.163)

Even her views on a work's scaffolding sound familiar. What is interesting is why such a good writer in English should abandon writing it for 2 years. It's only as late as p.153 that she writes "I think that studying Italian is a flight from the long clash in my life between English and Bengali". She thinks that "No one, anywhere, assumes that I speak the languages that are part of me. ... I'm a writer: I identify myself completely with language, I work with it. And yet the wall keeps me at a distance, separates me. The wall is inevitable. It surrounds me wherever I go, so that I wonder if perhaps the wall is me" (p.142). Adding to her problems is her feeling that "a sense of imperfection has marked my life. I've been trying to improve myself forever, correct myself, because I've always felt I was a flawed person" (p.111) and "I write to feel alone. Ever since I was a child it has been a way of withdrawing, of finding myself" (p.185)

And what of her own family? Though we learn early on about how languages affected her early life, it isn't until p.136 that we learn about whether her husband and children are with her, and how they communicate.

Being a learner of Italian I was interested in what she found difficult. She makes a note of the Italian words she doesn't know - "Rereading the notebook, I notice certain words that I have to write more than once, that resist my memory. Simple but stubborn (fruscio, schianto, arguto, broncio" (p.49). I have a similar issue with some words. The translation seemed fine to me though on p.222 "uno scacco matto" is translated as "a dead-end", which may be correct but it's a surprise, because literally it means "checkmate".

Other reviews

• Joseph Luzzi
• Tessa Hadley (I’m not so sure about the style in In Other Words, at least as it is rendered in translation (I can just about read the Italian, but can’t judge it). Sometimes its abruptness just feels blunt ... Lahiri’s book feels starved of actual experiences of Italy, or reflections on how that language gives form to its different world.)