Living in a Multilingual World

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Abstract

         <h2>Being John Malkovich</h2>
            <div><h3>The more consistent you become, the more fulfilling your life will be</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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    </div><h2 id="08e0">Before diving in, wade in the water</h2><p id="1c6f">Those of you who speak more than one language and are fluent in it/them will probably recognise this phenomenon. Maybe, it’s been a while since you dabbled in unusual grammar and syntax constructions, so you get a book in that language and you dip your big toe in the water first. No headfirst plunge, mind you, just a shy re-acquaintance. Sometimes, if the water is too cold, you close that first page and go back to your warm comfort zone. I did it a few years ago with a novel in German and I regret it now. My advice is, plough on, and make sure that you understand the reason why the water feels cold. You see, it’s been long since you last swam from this beach. So, you must wade in the water first, and then little by little, as long as you’ve got a firm footing (i.e., a good dictionary) you carry on, until the water level reaches your waist. It is only then, that you dive headfirst.</p><div id="37cb" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://medium.com/illumination/introducing-illumination-writer-mario-l%C3%B3pez-goicoechea-a-cuban-in-london-ce821be9d970">
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            <h2>Introducing Illumination Writer, Mario López-Goicoechea, a Cuban in London</h2>
            <div><h3>Mario on his first non-fiction book, what he would wear to a fancy-dress party and life lessons</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*IEKetHbGmdiCfbeNgtJXWg.jpeg)"></div>
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    </div><p id="730e">That is how reading in a foreign language feels to me. Like immersing myself in the vastness of a great big ocean. Along the way I am helped by friendly winks and nudges that reassure me I’ll be supported on my journey. In the case of books written in French I feel as if there is always an ellipsis hanging over the pages. Not a clear-cut omission of items in order to avoid repetition, but rather, imaginary speech marks that give meaning to sentiments and emotions left unexplained. Both <i>Heureux les H

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eureux</i> and <i>D’Autres Vies que la Mienne</i> are full of examples. In the former there is a character called Paola Suares, who is sleeping with a married man, Luc Condamine. Since his wife is not home, he decides to take Paola to his house. The scene that follows is full of small, descriptive details that render the situation absurd. Whilst he is taking his clothes off, ready to have sex with her, Paola is showing more interest in the house décor:</p><blockquote id="3a56"><p>“<b>Luc a défait sa braguette. J’ai attend un peu. Il a libéré son sexe et tout à coup j’ai réalisé que le canapé était turquoise. Un turquoise chatoyant sous la lumière artificielle d’alcôve, et j’ai pensé qu’au milieu de reste était assez surprenant d’avoir choisi cette couleur de canapé. Je me suis demande qui était responsable de la décoration dans ce couple.</b>”</p></blockquote><p id="eab3">There is humour in the scene as well. The man unfastens his trousers but his female companion is more interested in the couch and its colour. The chapter ends on a more serious note, though, with Paola stating the obvious: you will never leave all this, will you? Luc’s elliptical response indicates that there is a suppression of thoughts. Thoughts that will come out in his monologue, pages later, but which, for the time being, will remain under wraps.</p><div id="734d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/tribalistas-a-deep-human-connection-beyond-music-907b795b20a"> <div> <div> <h2>Tribalistas: a deep human connection beyond music</h2> <div><h3>Diaspora, the opening track on the Tribalistas’ second album, is more than just a song. It is a prayer, a lament to the…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*gdScwnnj2QebvF7X2lBKtw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><figure id="e5ca"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*aSg_TcBvmkhg6Ccd"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@hasinhayder?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Hasin Hayder</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><h2 id="f5a7">Final thoughts</h2><p id="d4f2">Those of us who live in a multilingual world always have the opportunity to come back and take the plunge. But do not be afraid to dip your big toe in first. Should the water be cold, plough on, please, do plough on.</p></article></body>

The one about taking the plunge

It is that time of the year when I think of books that have made a deep impact on me at some point in my life. This time around I bring two titles. One of them I read six summers ago just before I got on the plane to France. The other one was an unputdownable beauty I also digested in 2014

The first book is a novel called Heureux les Heureux. The title is taken after a line in a poem by the late Argentinian poet, essayist and short-story writer Jorge Luis Borges. What caught my eye immediately was the way this roman was structured: each chapter was a monologue acquainting the reader with the characters as the plot unravelled. Bearing in mind that the author, Yasmina Reza is also a playwright, I found myself wondering at times where the bracketed and italicised stage directions had gone.

The second book is called D’Autres Vies que la Mienne and deals with the aftermath of the terrible tsunami that devastated South East Asia in 2004. It was an interesting and intriguing interview with the author, Emmanuel Carrère, in The Observer that made me want to investigate his writing further.

It was also the fact that both books were available in French.

I don’t read in French as much as I used to and this has become a cause for regret in my case. After spending three years learning the language and becoming fluent in it, I lost many of my oral and listening skills when I relocated to the UK. That is the reason why going back to the Gallic lexicon every now and then usually feels like travelling to another country, a familiar and friendly land, if only in my mind.

Before diving in, wade in the water

Those of you who speak more than one language and are fluent in it/them will probably recognise this phenomenon. Maybe, it’s been a while since you dabbled in unusual grammar and syntax constructions, so you get a book in that language and you dip your big toe in the water first. No headfirst plunge, mind you, just a shy re-acquaintance. Sometimes, if the water is too cold, you close that first page and go back to your warm comfort zone. I did it a few years ago with a novel in German and I regret it now. My advice is, plough on, and make sure that you understand the reason why the water feels cold. You see, it’s been long since you last swam from this beach. So, you must wade in the water first, and then little by little, as long as you’ve got a firm footing (i.e., a good dictionary) you carry on, until the water level reaches your waist. It is only then, that you dive headfirst.

That is how reading in a foreign language feels to me. Like immersing myself in the vastness of a great big ocean. Along the way I am helped by friendly winks and nudges that reassure me I’ll be supported on my journey. In the case of books written in French I feel as if there is always an ellipsis hanging over the pages. Not a clear-cut omission of items in order to avoid repetition, but rather, imaginary speech marks that give meaning to sentiments and emotions left unexplained. Both Heureux les Heureux and D’Autres Vies que la Mienne are full of examples. In the former there is a character called Paola Suares, who is sleeping with a married man, Luc Condamine. Since his wife is not home, he decides to take Paola to his house. The scene that follows is full of small, descriptive details that render the situation absurd. Whilst he is taking his clothes off, ready to have sex with her, Paola is showing more interest in the house décor:

“Luc a défait sa braguette. J’ai attend un peu. Il a libéré son sexe et tout à coup j’ai réalisé que le canapé était turquoise. Un turquoise chatoyant sous la lumière artificielle d’alcôve, et j’ai pensé qu’au milieu de reste était assez surprenant d’avoir choisi cette couleur de canapé. Je me suis demande qui était responsable de la décoration dans ce couple.”

There is humour in the scene as well. The man unfastens his trousers but his female companion is more interested in the couch and its colour. The chapter ends on a more serious note, though, with Paola stating the obvious: you will never leave all this, will you? Luc’s elliptical response indicates that there is a suppression of thoughts. Thoughts that will come out in his monologue, pages later, but which, for the time being, will remain under wraps.