A review by georgiarose888
Fifty Sounds by Polly Barton

2.0

Glup-glup: the sound of mournful tears glupping onto the page as you write your self-indulgent memoir.
Look, if there is any person who should love this book, it is me. Ms. Barton and I came to Japan in bizarrely similar circumstances. We were both 21-year-old BA Philosophy graduates, who applied for the JET Programme mainly because a boyfriend-at-the-time was applying, (who happened to be way more into Japan than us) and both ended up getting in while the boyfriend-at-the-time did not. We both broke up with said boyfriends, and came to Japan alone, with a beginner's textbook in Nihongo clutched under our arms.
That being said, I did not love this book. At face value, Fifty Sounds is a Wittgenstein-filled exploration of a language lover's journey. What I saw it as was a collection of melancholic lamentations that never quite reach the level of self-realisation that you want them to.
Either create a very dry, bare-bones novel about literary translation and the Japanese language- OR transcribe your therapy sessions into prose. Doing both leaves the whole endeavor feeling unsatisfying on both ends.