Scan barcode
marshamudpuddle's review
informative
reflective
4.0
Ultimately, I felt there were two books slightly wrestling with each other here, with the author never quite settling on which of two possible versions of the same book she was writing.
One was an essayistic book about how our whole way of interacting with the world, of understanding both it and ourselves, is shaped by language. Taking Wittgenstein as her main theoretical touchpoint, Barton explores this topic through the specific lens of what it is like to learn another language, in this case Japanese, and how it altered her sense of self and her sense of reality. Going beyond simple comparisons of Japanese and English (though there is plenty of this), Barton uses the differences between the two languages to burrow down into something deeper and more profound about how our lives are shaped by the words we learn, and how this learning is always personal, chaotic, emotional, and partial. She is extremely perceptive and thoughtful and reflexive as an essayist, folding ideas together in a really satisfying way. About half the book is like this, and I would without hesitation give that book 5 stars.
The other book, unfolding simultaneously with the more essayistic one, was a memoir about the same topic: her experiences as a foreigner in Japan, her memories of learning and failing in the Japanese language, her relationship with an older Japanese man she refers to only as Y (there is a lot about this) as well as her other friendships and relationships. This was all engagingly written, and I enjoyed plenty of the anecdotes, but I found myself less enthusiastically rapt when the book slipped into this more memoiristic register.
I also think the book would have benefited from being cut down by about a third: I understand why Barton wanted fifty chapters, to mirror the 'fifty sounds' of the gojūon (the grid of kana that make up Japanese onomatopoeia) and make the whole conceit of the book work, but this did mean it ended up being slightly repetitive towards the end.
Still, I'm very glad I read this and would still very much recommend it to anyone interested in language, translation, or the contemporary essay.
One was an essayistic book about how our whole way of interacting with the world, of understanding both it and ourselves, is shaped by language. Taking Wittgenstein as her main theoretical touchpoint, Barton explores this topic through the specific lens of what it is like to learn another language, in this case Japanese, and how it altered her sense of self and her sense of reality. Going beyond simple comparisons of Japanese and English (though there is plenty of this), Barton uses the differences between the two languages to burrow down into something deeper and more profound about how our lives are shaped by the words we learn, and how this learning is always personal, chaotic, emotional, and partial. She is extremely perceptive and thoughtful and reflexive as an essayist, folding ideas together in a really satisfying way. About half the book is like this, and I would without hesitation give that book 5 stars.
The other book, unfolding simultaneously with the more essayistic one, was a memoir about the same topic: her experiences as a foreigner in Japan, her memories of learning and failing in the Japanese language, her relationship with an older Japanese man she refers to only as Y (there is a lot about this) as well as her other friendships and relationships. This was all engagingly written, and I enjoyed plenty of the anecdotes, but I found myself less enthusiastically rapt when the book slipped into this more memoiristic register.
I also think the book would have benefited from being cut down by about a third: I understand why Barton wanted fifty chapters, to mirror the 'fifty sounds' of the gojūon (the grid of kana that make up Japanese onomatopoeia) and make the whole conceit of the book work, but this did mean it ended up being slightly repetitive towards the end.
Still, I'm very glad I read this and would still very much recommend it to anyone interested in language, translation, or the contemporary essay.
elsaelsaelsa's review
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
It’s a wonderful wonderful book, the best nonfiction book I’ve read in a good while
lucymight's review
3.0
I feel as if Polly Barton handed me a viewfinder and said, ‘here. This might not be right but it’s what I see.’ She casts the viewfinder over her personal relationship with Japan; over what it’s like to move abroad and be a foreigner from a dominant, white culture; over what it’s like to live inside another language. This is not the sort of book I would usually pick up, and was only drawn to it as someone interested in language and linguistics – an interest which comes from an entirely curious and unprofessional angle.
My favourite aspect of this book was the structure. It broke down in to digestible pieces what otherwise might have been a truckload of information and memories that I would never, ever have got through. Inspired by a text the author used to learn Japanese, Fifty Sounds is centred around fifty actual sounds, with each word given a significance that relates to a part of Polly’s experiences in Japan. Knowing each part would return to a particular word, e.g.
– jin-jin: the sound of being touched for the very first time
p. 108, Fifty Sounds
…results in the book feeling like a series of short stories, that you know will resolve to a conclusion. An inventive way of including narrative structure into what is, essentially, years of her life. Although the parts are arranged semi-chronologically, you could probably dip in and out of them as you pleased, and still be able to follow, for the most part.
Polly swerves into linguistic theory and philosophy in places. Fortunately for me, I am interested in language and words anyway (thank you, English Language A-Level). Wittgenstein sounds intriguing:
Our language may be seen as an ancient city: a maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses, and of houses with additions from various periods; and this, surrounded by a multitude of new boroughs with straight regular streets and uniform houses.
– Wittgenstein, cited by Polly Barton in Fifty Sounds, p. 255
The book walks a fine line (near the beginning in particular) between suiting language specialists and a more general readership. I came close to zoning out more than once. I found however as I persevered that the linguistic theory took a back seat, in favour of the author revealing her more intimate encounters with Japanese. The parts I enjoyed most were the personal: about her love life, emotions, sex and receiving therapy. The author is self-aware and discussed her race and whiteness, too, a thread I feel is highly necessary in books by white writers looking at non-white culture in this way. I respected her writing all the more for choosing to address it head-on.
I am giving this title three stars out of five because it was inventive and interesting, and I enjoyed leaving my comfort zone of fiction. I’m reserving my four/five star ratings for books that grab me, that I itch to read or leave me breathless; this book wasn’t that for me, but I absolutely see why it won the 2019 Fitzcarraldo Essay Prize.
I would recommend this title to those with an interest in language, writing, Japan and Japanese culture, bilingualism and translation – or readers of Anne Carson, Claire-Louise Bennett and Deborah Levy.
I am grateful to Fitzcarraldo Editions for providing me with an arc in exchange for this honest review
My favourite aspect of this book was the structure. It broke down in to digestible pieces what otherwise might have been a truckload of information and memories that I would never, ever have got through. Inspired by a text the author used to learn Japanese, Fifty Sounds is centred around fifty actual sounds, with each word given a significance that relates to a part of Polly’s experiences in Japan. Knowing each part would return to a particular word, e.g.
– jin-jin: the sound of being touched for the very first time
p. 108, Fifty Sounds
…results in the book feeling like a series of short stories, that you know will resolve to a conclusion. An inventive way of including narrative structure into what is, essentially, years of her life. Although the parts are arranged semi-chronologically, you could probably dip in and out of them as you pleased, and still be able to follow, for the most part.
Polly swerves into linguistic theory and philosophy in places. Fortunately for me, I am interested in language and words anyway (thank you, English Language A-Level). Wittgenstein sounds intriguing:
Our language may be seen as an ancient city: a maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses, and of houses with additions from various periods; and this, surrounded by a multitude of new boroughs with straight regular streets and uniform houses.
– Wittgenstein, cited by Polly Barton in Fifty Sounds, p. 255
The book walks a fine line (near the beginning in particular) between suiting language specialists and a more general readership. I came close to zoning out more than once. I found however as I persevered that the linguistic theory took a back seat, in favour of the author revealing her more intimate encounters with Japanese. The parts I enjoyed most were the personal: about her love life, emotions, sex and receiving therapy. The author is self-aware and discussed her race and whiteness, too, a thread I feel is highly necessary in books by white writers looking at non-white culture in this way. I respected her writing all the more for choosing to address it head-on.
I am giving this title three stars out of five because it was inventive and interesting, and I enjoyed leaving my comfort zone of fiction. I’m reserving my four/five star ratings for books that grab me, that I itch to read or leave me breathless; this book wasn’t that for me, but I absolutely see why it won the 2019 Fitzcarraldo Essay Prize.
I would recommend this title to those with an interest in language, writing, Japan and Japanese culture, bilingualism and translation – or readers of Anne Carson, Claire-Louise Bennett and Deborah Levy.
I am grateful to Fitzcarraldo Editions for providing me with an arc in exchange for this honest review