Take a photo of a barcode or cover
rosietakesonliterature 's review for:
Tenir sa langue
by Polina Panassenko
I was reading a library copy of this and placed a fnac order for my own copy on the same day. Take that as you will.
For me, this is personal. I immigrated to the United States at the tender age of fourteen and have been chasing a sort of acceptance ever since. Unlike Polina, I spoke fluently on arrival and chose to change my name at naturalization. For me, it was the last phase of erasing something that felt like a thing of the past. People expect teenagers to not integrate as much, and yet there is not a single fully Russian bone in my body. I literally have to "hold my tongue" for it to stay with me, because I feel it slipping daily. When I came to Paris, it was a sort of delight when people thought I was "just American" based on my accent in French. After all, I never lost my accent in English, and probably never will. Tenir sa langue showed me something that I forgot was relevant, I think. A need to hold on. "My soil" doesn't call me, no, only New York does. But what if one day it will? I had so much fear in me of not being American that I forgot how to be Russian—a loss I can't compensate for.
For me, this is personal. I immigrated to the United States at the tender age of fourteen and have been chasing a sort of acceptance ever since. Unlike Polina, I spoke fluently on arrival and chose to change my name at naturalization. For me, it was the last phase of erasing something that felt like a thing of the past. People expect teenagers to not integrate as much, and yet there is not a single fully Russian bone in my body. I literally have to "hold my tongue" for it to stay with me, because I feel it slipping daily. When I came to Paris, it was a sort of delight when people thought I was "just American" based on my accent in French. After all, I never lost my accent in English, and probably never will. Tenir sa langue showed me something that I forgot was relevant, I think. A need to hold on. "My soil" doesn't call me, no, only New York does. But what if one day it will? I had so much fear in me of not being American that I forgot how to be Russian—a loss I can't compensate for.