In college I majored in linguistics with a specialization in cognition, and minored in psychology. My favorite part of this language/brain area of stuIn college I majored in linguistics with a specialization in cognition, and minored in psychology. My favorite part of this language/brain area of study was linguistic relativity (A.K.A. the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis)--although I didn't have time then to do anything but scratch the surface. The premise is that the language(s) you speak affect the way you think/perceive reality, and that the way you think/perceive reality molds the language(s) you speak; creating a self-reinforcing cycle.
It's been over 7 years now since I finished school, and the trauma of college anxiety has worn-off enough that I'm interested in digging a little deeper into certain areas that I just got an introduction to in school. I decided to start with linguistic relativity, and picked-up this book which seemed to fall along those lines. To my naïve surprise linguistic relativity is an embarrassment to the linguistic community because Sapir and Whorf took the basic idea of linguistic relativity (that resonated so much with me as a student) all the way to crazy town (e.g. The Hopi Native Americans are incapable of understanding time the way everyone else does because of how their language represents time, etc). But, never fear! Linguistic relativity is not completely dead! This book takes the stance that there is a fascinating kernel of truth to linguistic relativity in spite of its trip to crazy town. What a relief!
I think this idea is so interesting and feels so true to me because I grew up bilingual. If you only speak one language natively it's easy to think that concepts just come out of you and that language is just the vessel. But bilingualism offers contrast, and in that contrast you realize that language isn't merely a bystander. It seems completely natural to me that the emotions or thoughts that I have to express are filtered through their delivery system. I would notice that I could tell an English-speaking friend a story in English, and a Spanish-speaking friend the same story in Spanish--and it wouldn't be the same story. The basic points were the same, but the connotations and emphasis were very different; driven by linguistic and cultural influences. In the English story my concepts were getting Englishified, and in the Spanish story my concepts were getting Spanishified.
Not only do I appreciate Guy Deutscher taking the controversial stance of partially reviving select aspects of linguistic relativity in a community of intellectuals who want to distance themselves from it as much as possible, but his writing style was thoroughly enjoyable. Many popular science books are so dry, you can tell they are not written by writers. You get a list of facts, not a story. Not so here, Deutscher is a wonderful storyteller. His humor is a little odd, in an eccentric-yet-charismatic sort of way. Maybe this is entirely because I know he is an Israeli-born British linguist, but I felt like there were elements of foreign language humor/British humor, and linguist humor in his style. Foreign language humor/British humor in the amount of deadpan sarcasm and sass, and linguist humor in how he would make self-referential jokes, playing around with language. Being a linguist myself who was raised speaking a foreign language, I found him hilarious.
I wish there were more diverse examples of linguistic relativity in this book. Maybe there isn't much else that has been proven empirically yet? Maybe this was just meant to be an introduction? The main example of this book was color terms, with small sections on geographic orientation and gender. I definitely want more!
I also noticed a feminist and self-referential aspect to this book that I thought was really awesome. In English (like most other languages) there's a default to male gender when speaking about people in general, yet look at the following snippet from this book:
"Languages vary greatly across the globe, and everyone knows that the particular language a child happens to learn is just an accident of the particular culture she stumbled into."
The child is a she in the sentence above. This is just one of many examples of gender default reversal throughout the book. This she stands out to English speakers because it violates an aspect of English grammar that we all know about (most of us subconsciously)--that people are male until stated otherwise. I would expect that if you are an English-speaking male (and not a linguist or an English teacher) you've probably never noticed that English, by default, creates people in your image. I would also expect that if you are a female English speaker you've probably noticed this discrepancy. In a book about how language influences thought wherein 1 of 3 sections is about gender, this is hardly a coincidence. I think that in explaining how language influences thought, Deutscher is choosing to use language in a way that will make the reader notice things she hasn't before (see, I just did it too). Deutscher you clever dog!
Now that I've given an example while explaining how Deutscher gives examples in how he gives examples, I'm going to stop; there is no way this review is going to get any better. Self-referential loops are like catnip to linguists.
One small complaint about the eBook edition: At one point the phrase the bridge was said to be el puento in Spanish (instead of el puente). Come on! How did the editor miss a typo in such a common language like Spanish? This typo wasn't in the hard-copy of the book I have....more
Beautiful, colorful, stylized illustrations. Incredibly detailed, the hidden doors are fun. Focus on western cultures (7/10 places). Would recommend tBeautiful, colorful, stylized illustrations. Incredibly detailed, the hidden doors are fun. Focus on western cultures (7/10 places). Would recommend to anyone who loves art, or children with an active imagination. I would have adored this as a kid....more
I liked the first book a lot, and I liked this one much more. On to the third!
The first two books cover roughly the same time period, shortly before the apocalyptic plague (A.K.A., "The Waterless Flood") until shortly after. Both books interleave the narrator's/narrators' backstory with the present day.
The first book is narrated by Jimmy (A.K.A. Snowman), an emotionally-stunted man who is remarkable only in that he is so average. He witnesses the events unfold from within the corporate compounds, and unwittingly plays a key role in the downfall of society.
The second book has two narrators, Toby and Ren. They are both members of an apocalyptic vegetarian Christian cult (God's Gardeners) that rejects materialism and promotes preparedness for the end of times. Toby experiences the cult as an adult, and Ren as a child. This cult lives outside of the corporate compounds, in the slumlands.
It was very interesting to experience the books' events through the perspective of three interconnected narrators--and having so much background on each made this multi-faceted view all the richer. I read the second book immediately after the first, but I still feel like I may have missed some subtle connections in the plot. The reason for this is that things/people mentioned in passing from one perspective are mentioned in great detail from another--so you find yourself thinking, "What was it that the other character said about this briefly and hundreds of pages ago? I bet if I remembered it would really tie some things together." I think this trilogy would probably benefit from a re-read.
I liked this book so much more than the first because the worldview of the cult was so fascinating and three-dimensional; the chapters were even interspersed with brief sermons and hymns. I enjoyed their spiritualism, and empathized with their plight in spite of being the least religious person possible. A special favorite of mine was how they would wish someone well by saying that they would "put light" around them--I'm going to start saying that now, ha ha. Another great quality of this book is that Toby and Ren were much more emotionally accessible as central characters.
As with the first novel, Margaret Atwood delivers some pretty good lines. Here are some examples:
"Also I could hear Amanda’s voice: Why are you being so weak? Love’s never a fair trade. So Jimmy’s tired of you, so what, there’s guys all over the place like germs, and you can pick them like flowers and toss them away when they’re wilted. But you have to act like you’re having a spectacular time and every day’s a party."
"Maybe sadness was a kind of hunger, she thought. Maybe the two went together."
"Yet each flower, each twig, each pebble, shines as though illuminated from within, as once before, on her first day in the Garden. It’s the stress, it’s the adrenalin, it’s a chemical effect: she knows this well enough. But why is it built in? she thinks. Why are we designed to see the world as supremely beautiful just as we’re about to be snuffed? Do rabbits feel the same as the fox teeth bite down on their necks? Is it mercy?"
This is the first Margaret Atwood book I've read, and I really enjoyed it. I'm going to continue with the trilogy until I run out of steam.
I really liThis is the first Margaret Atwood book I've read, and I really enjoyed it. I'm going to continue with the trilogy until I run out of steam.
I really like how the book was organized--interleaving the present day with the story of everything that lead to the present state of affairs. I also liked the really short chapters, it helps with my typically scattered attention span. Good writing doesn't have to be verbose and unending, this is an example of that; the chapters being little literary nuggets, and the writing being meaningful without being drawn-out. I also liked her character development of the narrator (really the only round character). I'm a sucker for the antihero--the Joe/Jane Shmoe who fails kinda hard but is a good person nevertheless. Atwood also does some clever things with the English language; some fairly ingenious description at times.
Now to describe the dystopia flavor. There is a huge class chasm, with the elite living within the confines of suburban-like walled sectors, and the rest of humanity living on the outside in slum-like wastelands. The goings-on within the sectors seem to be run almost entirely by powerful corporations. These corporations develop products via genetic engineering without any regard for bioethics and then hawk these products to the public via a soulless marketing division. From a very high-level like this, the world described in this book is not too far off from some present-day realities. Like most dystopias it is a cautionary tale with a simple formula--take what we fear now and follow it down a path until it is way worse, then presto! A dystopia.
I could have done without the human trafficking/child porn ring subplot, but I guess those things actually do happen. Not that I want to bury my head in the sand about horrible things that happen in the world, but maybe I didn't need this described so vividly and disturbingly? At a couple of points I wanted to gouge out my eyes, stab myself in the brain, and drink some bleach. *shudder* Another aspect of this that made it hard to read was that it wasn't described in a tone of disgust/outrage; just very matter-of-factly and with a morbid curiosity--ick. Undoubtedly, this was presented to the reader in this way to drive-home the point that people in the future are so much more incredibly desensitized to violence and horror than most of us are today.