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What Language Do I Dream In?
A multiple émigré, Elena Lappin could describe her life as “five languages in search of an author.” She was born into Russian; transposed into Czech, then German; introduced to Hebrew; and, finally, adopted by English.
Taking its title from a question once asked of her, What Language Do You Dream In? is Lappin’s memoir about language and memory. It examines her life through the prism of the languages through which she has experienced it. Each language marks and defines a distinct period of her life, and each gets close attention on its own terms. Lappin’s life is also a story of the way the languages—Russian, Czech, German, Hebrew, and English—and the periods of her life define, intersect, and anticipate one another. What Language Do You Dream In? demonstrates how the languages she speaks define parts of her identity, and how they connect to create the individual she is today.
What Language Do You Dream In? is a moving and erudite memoir on the importance of language to who we are and an ode to the language that has given the author a home in exile.
322 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews
December 28, 2018
Our Jewish book club picked this one.
The author speaks Russian, Czech, German, Hebrew, and English. She has family history with each of these languages- memories - and identities.
Elena’s travels, migration, and ability to learn languages easily - should have been an outrageously fascinating enjoyable book.
*wasn’t*!!!
I was bored. Elema’s storytelling was flat, colorless, dull and bland.
The author speaks Russian, Czech, German, Hebrew, and English. She has family history with each of these languages- memories - and identities.
Elena’s travels, migration, and ability to learn languages easily - should have been an outrageously fascinating enjoyable book.
*wasn’t*!!!
I was bored. Elema’s storytelling was flat, colorless, dull and bland.
March 4, 2019
C’è molto di più di quel che appare in questo memoir che scavalla un paio di secoli e continenti, e racconta con grande nitore, senza alcuna concessione alla morbosità, una storia famigliare che dai bisnonni ai giorni nostri si dipana in incredibili microstorie, a volte geometriche a volte ellittiche.
Il fascino di una patria linguistica (e non geografica), è potentissimo. E ammaliante perché farebbe a pezzi qualsiasi forma di razzismo, perché la parola è fluida, conoscibile, mutevole, sedimentata ma libera.
Purtroppo anche se la parola/il linguaggio ci rende umani (e non bestiali) non significa che la sua padronanza sia alla portata di tutti. Per i poveri di spirito il linguaggio sarà sempre un confine tra noi e loro, le parole dei randelli da schiantare sul prossimo.
Il fascino di una patria linguistica (e non geografica), è potentissimo. E ammaliante perché farebbe a pezzi qualsiasi forma di razzismo, perché la parola è fluida, conoscibile, mutevole, sedimentata ma libera.
Purtroppo anche se la parola/il linguaggio ci rende umani (e non bestiali) non significa che la sua padronanza sia alla portata di tutti. Per i poveri di spirito il linguaggio sarà sempre un confine tra noi e loro, le parole dei randelli da schiantare sul prossimo.
May 20, 2021
The title of this piqued my Freudian interest. I love dreams and I love languages. What Language Do I Dream In? is something I always ask myself. Having moved countries at a young age, I could see myself in these pages. The many countries and languages and immigrations this book follows made for quite the premise.
I love reading about the Russian-Jewish experience because it's so rare to see in American fiction or nonfiction. The specificity of reading about Soviet jews and the feeling of being seen it grants never fails to amaze me. It’s like that feeling you get inside when encountering someone in real life who shares the same roots, like “good to see us.” This is what this book felt like, for me.
Like, it’s reading about the same stories I was told as a child of grandmothers spending years in evacuation.
"When my grandmother and my mother were evacuated to Bashkiria during the war, my grandmother worked in a factory seven kilometers away from where they lived. In winter, as she walked home every evening along an empty road in complete darkness, she saw wolves' eyes following her from very close by. The wolves were hungry. My grandmother was petrified. But she had no choice, and just kept walking. This is how her generation faced everything in life: by doing what they had to do, despite the ever-present fear."
I love that last line.
"Having lost our homes, we are jealous of the steadfastness of the homes of others. We need to latch on to their roots and connect with stories that will never be ours."
This is why I'm so obsessed with nostalgia and looking for things that resemble the past.
Also, capturing the loss of a language while learning a new one. I loved seeing this brought to the page. Especially when she has her own child and notices how easily the language slips away from her. What a moment.
"It was like having a secret language for just the two of us."
Oh, and the Russian-Jewish humor is so hard to find in other books because it’s so specific to the language. Case in point:
“I emailed him a photo of a similar gun I had found on the internet and asked if he thought they were the same make and period. He shot back in Czech, without missing a beat: ‘I wish I had your problems!’”
The only other author I've experienced this feeling with is David Bezmozgis. So I would love any book recommendations if you have them...
The only thing I do wish from this book: To have spent more time inside Elena's head as each of these progressions in her life happened. I wanted more insight into what she was thinking when she met her future husband or when she had her kids. She has lived quite the life. Quite the rare life. So I wanted more insight into her thoughts. Like, in hindsight, was there some moment of foreshadowing now that she can look on things back? I wanted more of that. One of those moments where you wish you could write the author to talk in detail...
This is the funny thing about reading memoirs, you can actually go check on the people mentioned in it online and feel like you know them. Lurking online like a distant family member, but in reality, you're just a curious reader...
This review and more can be found on my blog.
I love reading about the Russian-Jewish experience because it's so rare to see in American fiction or nonfiction. The specificity of reading about Soviet jews and the feeling of being seen it grants never fails to amaze me. It’s like that feeling you get inside when encountering someone in real life who shares the same roots, like “good to see us.” This is what this book felt like, for me.
Like, it’s reading about the same stories I was told as a child of grandmothers spending years in evacuation.
"When my grandmother and my mother were evacuated to Bashkiria during the war, my grandmother worked in a factory seven kilometers away from where they lived. In winter, as she walked home every evening along an empty road in complete darkness, she saw wolves' eyes following her from very close by. The wolves were hungry. My grandmother was petrified. But she had no choice, and just kept walking. This is how her generation faced everything in life: by doing what they had to do, despite the ever-present fear."
I love that last line.
"Having lost our homes, we are jealous of the steadfastness of the homes of others. We need to latch on to their roots and connect with stories that will never be ours."
This is why I'm so obsessed with nostalgia and looking for things that resemble the past.
Also, capturing the loss of a language while learning a new one. I loved seeing this brought to the page. Especially when she has her own child and notices how easily the language slips away from her. What a moment.
"It was like having a secret language for just the two of us."
Oh, and the Russian-Jewish humor is so hard to find in other books because it’s so specific to the language. Case in point:
“I emailed him a photo of a similar gun I had found on the internet and asked if he thought they were the same make and period. He shot back in Czech, without missing a beat: ‘I wish I had your problems!’”
The only other author I've experienced this feeling with is David Bezmozgis. So I would love any book recommendations if you have them...
The only thing I do wish from this book: To have spent more time inside Elena's head as each of these progressions in her life happened. I wanted more insight into what she was thinking when she met her future husband or when she had her kids. She has lived quite the life. Quite the rare life. So I wanted more insight into her thoughts. Like, in hindsight, was there some moment of foreshadowing now that she can look on things back? I wanted more of that. One of those moments where you wish you could write the author to talk in detail...
This is the funny thing about reading memoirs, you can actually go check on the people mentioned in it online and feel like you know them. Lurking online like a distant family member, but in reality, you're just a curious reader...
This review and more can be found on my blog.
June 22, 2021
I have always been incredibly interested in both languages, and one's sense of identity and belonging. These elements come together in Elena Lappin's memoir, What Language Do I Dream In?. Diana Athill calls the book 'captivating', and Kirkus Reviews write that Lappin has created a 'meditation on family secrets, loss, and personal belonging... [which] reveals how... language can become the "shelter" and home that nurtures selfhood and identity'.
Lappin, who currently lives in the United Kingdom, was born in Moscow, and grew up in Prague and Hamburg. She has also lived in Israel, Canada, and the United States; in the book's blurb, she is described as a 'multiple emigré'. Her eventual decision to write in English was the 'result of many wanderings', and much language learning. What Language Do I Dream In? reflects upon the many tongues which she has spoken in, as well as many rather revealing reflections about her family as they carved their own space in the world.
In the first chapter, Lappin reflects that at the age of forty-seven, she was told a "secret" by a relative she did not know about; that the man who raised her was not her biological father, and that her "real" father lived in New York, after emigrating from the Soviet Union in 1973. She comments that when she found out, 'No one except my brother seemed to be concerned about how this bombshell was affecting me. My parents were the core, I was the periphery. Whose story was this, really? And what was the story?' When she first discovers this shattering fact about herself, and makes the quite difficult decision to write this book, she comments: 'My father's resistance to my need to know the truth about who I was, and indirectly about who my parents were, and to write about it, was a serious obstacle for me initially. I had been conditioned, or had conditioned myself, to think of my parents as the people to whom I was not allowed to cause any pain. Their happiness was my responsibility. My happiness was more than my own feeling about my life: it was a way of making theirs easier.' Despite its gravity, this discovery is not the central thread of the book.
Lappin then moves in time, back to her childhood. She left Moscow, and her beloved grandparents, as a young girl, moving first to Prague, and then to Hamburg, following the Soviet invasion of what was then Czechoslovakia in 1968. Of this time, she reflects: 'When we emigrated to Germany I watched my parents start all over again, at the age of forty, without knowing a word of their new language.' She goes on to say that she and her family 'were all émigrés, in staggered stages. Russian was the first casualty of all our wanderings.'
What follows in Lappin's book is a series of interlinked memories, one leading into another. What Language Do I Dream In? is arranged like a jigsaw; different reflections and spaces in time slot into place, and the whole gains further context as it goes on. Although I generally like a linear structure in memoirs, I found this construction highly effective in Lappin's memoir. She writes with such clarity that leaps from one period to another never feel confusing.
I found the musings offered throughout about what it was like to grow up in such different places incredibly valuable, and quite enlightening. Living in Czechoslovakia offered the young Elena far more freedom than she would have had in Russia; much of this freedom was bestowed on her by her parents, who allowed her to roam the streets by herself from an early age. She was a 'Young Pioneer', which was mandatory for children in Czechoslovakia. Of this, she writes: 'At a very young age all this was fun rather than a chore I felt forced into. From my point of view as an adult, it's almost embarrassing to realise just how irrelevant the crippling ideology behind these activities was to me as a child.'
Lappin was present at some of history's most pivotal moments - the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, and the ensuing Prague Spring, to name but two. This is described by Lappin as 'a sudden explosion of freedom and reform from within the core of the Czechoslovak Communist Party itself... the borders with the West opened up; censorship was abolished... The world was watching Czechoslovakia with amazement and admiration... Unfortunately, the Soviet leadership was watching as well; the heady days of the new, democratic Czechoslovakia were numbered, and would be over by August.' When she and her family move to Hamburg, she is made to confront her Jewish roots 'in addition to my Czech and Russian ones'.
What Language Do I Dream In? is a full, and quite fascinating, portrait of a life which has been lived across continents. As well as learning about the author, a lot is - perhaps inevitably - revealed about her family too. What Language Do I Dream In? is a really interesting exploration of history and language, and the way in which they both feed into one another. I really enjoyed Lappin's writing style; she adds a lot of colour to everything, particularly from an historical and sociological perspective. Her exposure to so many languages, and different ways of expressing herself, is quite fascinating to read about. As a piece of social history, What Language Do I Dream In? is invaluable, and it is a memoir which I highly recommend.
Lappin, who currently lives in the United Kingdom, was born in Moscow, and grew up in Prague and Hamburg. She has also lived in Israel, Canada, and the United States; in the book's blurb, she is described as a 'multiple emigré'. Her eventual decision to write in English was the 'result of many wanderings', and much language learning. What Language Do I Dream In? reflects upon the many tongues which she has spoken in, as well as many rather revealing reflections about her family as they carved their own space in the world.
In the first chapter, Lappin reflects that at the age of forty-seven, she was told a "secret" by a relative she did not know about; that the man who raised her was not her biological father, and that her "real" father lived in New York, after emigrating from the Soviet Union in 1973. She comments that when she found out, 'No one except my brother seemed to be concerned about how this bombshell was affecting me. My parents were the core, I was the periphery. Whose story was this, really? And what was the story?' When she first discovers this shattering fact about herself, and makes the quite difficult decision to write this book, she comments: 'My father's resistance to my need to know the truth about who I was, and indirectly about who my parents were, and to write about it, was a serious obstacle for me initially. I had been conditioned, or had conditioned myself, to think of my parents as the people to whom I was not allowed to cause any pain. Their happiness was my responsibility. My happiness was more than my own feeling about my life: it was a way of making theirs easier.' Despite its gravity, this discovery is not the central thread of the book.
Lappin then moves in time, back to her childhood. She left Moscow, and her beloved grandparents, as a young girl, moving first to Prague, and then to Hamburg, following the Soviet invasion of what was then Czechoslovakia in 1968. Of this time, she reflects: 'When we emigrated to Germany I watched my parents start all over again, at the age of forty, without knowing a word of their new language.' She goes on to say that she and her family 'were all émigrés, in staggered stages. Russian was the first casualty of all our wanderings.'
What follows in Lappin's book is a series of interlinked memories, one leading into another. What Language Do I Dream In? is arranged like a jigsaw; different reflections and spaces in time slot into place, and the whole gains further context as it goes on. Although I generally like a linear structure in memoirs, I found this construction highly effective in Lappin's memoir. She writes with such clarity that leaps from one period to another never feel confusing.
I found the musings offered throughout about what it was like to grow up in such different places incredibly valuable, and quite enlightening. Living in Czechoslovakia offered the young Elena far more freedom than she would have had in Russia; much of this freedom was bestowed on her by her parents, who allowed her to roam the streets by herself from an early age. She was a 'Young Pioneer', which was mandatory for children in Czechoslovakia. Of this, she writes: 'At a very young age all this was fun rather than a chore I felt forced into. From my point of view as an adult, it's almost embarrassing to realise just how irrelevant the crippling ideology behind these activities was to me as a child.'
Lappin was present at some of history's most pivotal moments - the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, and the ensuing Prague Spring, to name but two. This is described by Lappin as 'a sudden explosion of freedom and reform from within the core of the Czechoslovak Communist Party itself... the borders with the West opened up; censorship was abolished... The world was watching Czechoslovakia with amazement and admiration... Unfortunately, the Soviet leadership was watching as well; the heady days of the new, democratic Czechoslovakia were numbered, and would be over by August.' When she and her family move to Hamburg, she is made to confront her Jewish roots 'in addition to my Czech and Russian ones'.
What Language Do I Dream In? is a full, and quite fascinating, portrait of a life which has been lived across continents. As well as learning about the author, a lot is - perhaps inevitably - revealed about her family too. What Language Do I Dream In? is a really interesting exploration of history and language, and the way in which they both feed into one another. I really enjoyed Lappin's writing style; she adds a lot of colour to everything, particularly from an historical and sociological perspective. Her exposure to so many languages, and different ways of expressing herself, is quite fascinating to read about. As a piece of social history, What Language Do I Dream In? is invaluable, and it is a memoir which I highly recommend.
June 3, 2018
J'ai envie de dire d'emblée que j'ai beaucoup aimé ce livre, j'ai également trouvé la traduction très réussie mais j'ai un sentiment proche de la colère à l'égard de l'éditeur car c'est à cause du travail éditorial que j'aurais pu passer à côté de ce livre après l'avoir acheté!
Je ne me souviens plus où et comment j'en ai entendu parlé mais je l'ai tout de suite défini comme un livre à lire et je l'ai acheté en voyant le titre dans une librairie, sans feuilleter ni m'intéresser à la quatrième de la couverture, je n'ai même pas essayé de le trouver en anglais pour éviter la traduction, il y avait urgence. Coup de foudre ou achat compulsif? En tout cas, c'était rapide.
Malgré l'urgence évidente, je n'ai pas pu le commencer tout de suite, petit à petit, il s'est retrouvé en bas de ma pile de livres à lire, je l'ai un peu oublié et en le retrouvant un jour, j'ai enfin lu la quatrième de couverture et me suis demandé pourquoi je l'avais acheté. Parce que la quatrième de couverture ne décrivait en rien le livre que je m'étais imaginé:
"Un soir de février, Elena Lappin reçoit un étrange coup de téléphone en provenance de Moscou: un homme qui prétend être son oncle lui révèle que son père "officiel" n'est pas son vrai père.
C'est le début d'une incroyable enquête (...)"
Une histoire incroyable, en effet, et digne d'un roman, mais ce n'est pas à cela que je m'attendais. Le pire, c'est que tout est vrai: il y a bien un coup de fil au début et quelque pages (partie minime du livre) à la fin qui racontent l'enquête. Mais là n'est pas l'essentiel du livre! Elena Lappin raconte sa vie qui, sans même coups de fil mystérieux, a tout d'un roman. C'est un récit de ses migrations géographiques et linguistiques: Russie - Tchécoslovaquie - Allemagne - Israël - Canada - Israël à nouveau - États-Unis - Angleterre... Le russe - le tchèque - le français - l'allemand - l'hébreu - l'anglais... Les réflexions sur ce qu'est la langue maternelle, la relation qu'on a avec les langues, sur ce qu'on considère comme ses racines, ce que et comment on transmet aux enfants, sur les migrations et l'émigration. C'est absolument passionnant et je conseille cette lecture à tous sans exception!
" (...) l'aisance dont on fait preuve dans une langue nouvelle, même lorsque l'on la parle couramment et à perfection, ne revient pas à posséder cette langue à la manière dont on possède une langue maternelle; et qu'écrire dans une langue étrangère donne l'impression de marcher dans les chaussures, mal ajustées, d'un autre."
(me voilà excusée pour les imperfections de mes écrits en français)
Une autre raison de mon énervement à l'égard des Éditions de l'Olivier, c'est le taux un peu élevé de fautes de frappe. Pour avoir travaillé dans une maison d'éditions, je sais qu'il en restera toujours: il y en a même si on ne les voit pas, mais quand on en voit souvent, c'est qu'il y en a trop, et c'est d'autant plus dommage dans un livre qui parle si bien de langues!
Et puis cette histoire de "professeure", qu'on m'explique! Ce n'est plus une faute, c'est un emploi systématique et conscient. Il ne s'agit pas d'une simple féminisation, si c'est une féminisation, elle est alors poussée à l'absurde! Car dans le livre on parle au masculin de "professeure" (sic) qui devient "professeuree" (sic !!!) lorsqu'il s'agit d'une femme!
Bref, je donne 5/5 à ce livre mais aucune des étoiles ne va aux Éditions de l'Olivier! Le livre a été sauvé par mon mari qui l'a pris de mes mains, l'a lu et m'a assuré que j'allais adorer. Il ne s'est pas trompé.
Хочу особо порекомендовать книгу интересующимся языками, а особенно и в первую очередь живущим в эмиграции (даже если они не интересуются языками)!
Je ne me souviens plus où et comment j'en ai entendu parlé mais je l'ai tout de suite défini comme un livre à lire et je l'ai acheté en voyant le titre dans une librairie, sans feuilleter ni m'intéresser à la quatrième de la couverture, je n'ai même pas essayé de le trouver en anglais pour éviter la traduction, il y avait urgence. Coup de foudre ou achat compulsif? En tout cas, c'était rapide.
Malgré l'urgence évidente, je n'ai pas pu le commencer tout de suite, petit à petit, il s'est retrouvé en bas de ma pile de livres à lire, je l'ai un peu oublié et en le retrouvant un jour, j'ai enfin lu la quatrième de couverture et me suis demandé pourquoi je l'avais acheté. Parce que la quatrième de couverture ne décrivait en rien le livre que je m'étais imaginé:
"Un soir de février, Elena Lappin reçoit un étrange coup de téléphone en provenance de Moscou: un homme qui prétend être son oncle lui révèle que son père "officiel" n'est pas son vrai père.
C'est le début d'une incroyable enquête (...)"
Une histoire incroyable, en effet, et digne d'un roman, mais ce n'est pas à cela que je m'attendais. Le pire, c'est que tout est vrai: il y a bien un coup de fil au début et quelque pages (partie minime du livre) à la fin qui racontent l'enquête. Mais là n'est pas l'essentiel du livre! Elena Lappin raconte sa vie qui, sans même coups de fil mystérieux, a tout d'un roman. C'est un récit de ses migrations géographiques et linguistiques: Russie - Tchécoslovaquie - Allemagne - Israël - Canada - Israël à nouveau - États-Unis - Angleterre... Le russe - le tchèque - le français - l'allemand - l'hébreu - l'anglais... Les réflexions sur ce qu'est la langue maternelle, la relation qu'on a avec les langues, sur ce qu'on considère comme ses racines, ce que et comment on transmet aux enfants, sur les migrations et l'émigration. C'est absolument passionnant et je conseille cette lecture à tous sans exception!
" (...) l'aisance dont on fait preuve dans une langue nouvelle, même lorsque l'on la parle couramment et à perfection, ne revient pas à posséder cette langue à la manière dont on possède une langue maternelle; et qu'écrire dans une langue étrangère donne l'impression de marcher dans les chaussures, mal ajustées, d'un autre."
(me voilà excusée pour les imperfections de mes écrits en français)
Une autre raison de mon énervement à l'égard des Éditions de l'Olivier, c'est le taux un peu élevé de fautes de frappe. Pour avoir travaillé dans une maison d'éditions, je sais qu'il en restera toujours: il y en a même si on ne les voit pas, mais quand on en voit souvent, c'est qu'il y en a trop, et c'est d'autant plus dommage dans un livre qui parle si bien de langues!
Et puis cette histoire de "professeure", qu'on m'explique! Ce n'est plus une faute, c'est un emploi systématique et conscient. Il ne s'agit pas d'une simple féminisation, si c'est une féminisation, elle est alors poussée à l'absurde! Car dans le livre on parle au masculin de "professeure" (sic) qui devient "professeuree" (sic !!!) lorsqu'il s'agit d'une femme!
Bref, je donne 5/5 à ce livre mais aucune des étoiles ne va aux Éditions de l'Olivier! Le livre a été sauvé par mon mari qui l'a pris de mes mains, l'a lu et m'a assuré que j'allais adorer. Il ne s'est pas trompé.
Хочу особо порекомендовать книгу интересующимся языками, а особенно и в первую очередь живущим в эмиграции (даже если они не интересуются языками)!
October 4, 2022
“La mia vita potrebbe forse essere descritta come ‘cinque lingue in cerca d’autore’: nata nella lingua russa, trapiantata nel ceco, e poi nel tedesco, introdotta all’ebraico, e infine adottata dall’inglese.”
In questo memoir Elena Lappin ripercorre una vita di spostamenti da un paese all’altro, il travalicare frontiere senza mai sentirle ostili, pur essendo testimonianza viva delle sofferenze dei popoli. Racconta l’immersione nell’humus linguistico di ogni paese e di ogni cultura da lei vissuta e attraversata, con la curiosità e il piacere di comprenderne l’intima struttura.
Narra una storia travagliata e complessa in cui le vicende personali e famigliari si intrecciano alla grande storia di popoli e nazioni.
“Non si abita un Paese, si abita una lingua” affermava il filosofo Emil Cioran e l’autrice ne attesta il senso, raccontando insieme la fortuna di chi, come lei, pur appartenendo a diverse radici, ha potuto scegliere la lingua nella quale esprimersi, ragionare, scrivere.
E, forse, chissà, anche sognare.
In questo memoir Elena Lappin ripercorre una vita di spostamenti da un paese all’altro, il travalicare frontiere senza mai sentirle ostili, pur essendo testimonianza viva delle sofferenze dei popoli. Racconta l’immersione nell’humus linguistico di ogni paese e di ogni cultura da lei vissuta e attraversata, con la curiosità e il piacere di comprenderne l’intima struttura.
Narra una storia travagliata e complessa in cui le vicende personali e famigliari si intrecciano alla grande storia di popoli e nazioni.
“Non si abita un Paese, si abita una lingua” affermava il filosofo Emil Cioran e l’autrice ne attesta il senso, raccontando insieme la fortuna di chi, come lei, pur appartenendo a diverse radici, ha potuto scegliere la lingua nella quale esprimersi, ragionare, scrivere.
E, forse, chissà, anche sognare.
February 10, 2020
Šilta, nostalgiška knyga. Apie savosios kalbos paieškas, apie migraciją iš Rusijos į Europą, iš Europos į Šiaurės Ameriką ir atgal, apie šeimos paslaptis ir takią tapatybę. Apie vaikystę, paauglystę ir brandą – skirtingus gyvenimo tarpsnius, nužymėtus skirtingomis kalbomis. Apie ilgesį tos kalbos ir tos šalies, kuri galėtų tapti namais, apie žinojimą, kad tokių namų nebėra, o gal niekada ir nebuvo.
Elenos Lappin biografija nusidriekia per kelias šalis ir net žemynus. Gimė Rusijoje, vaikystėje kartu su motina išvyko į Čekiją, kur jau buvo apsistojęs įtėvis. Vėliau šeima persikėlė į Vokietiją. Lappin gyveno Izraelyje, Šiaurės Amerikoje, galiausiai su vyru ir vaikais įsikūrė Londone. Ji kalba penkiomis kalbomis – rusų, čekų, vokiečių, hebrajų, anglų; „penkios kalbos beieškant autoriaus“, jos pačios žodžiais. Rašo angliškai – kalba, išmokta vėliausiai, rašymui pasirinkta lyg ir atsitiktinai, nors vėliau išaiškėja, kad tai yra jos tikro tėvo gimtoji kalba.
Lappin pasakoja apie tai, ką reiškia augti keliose kalbose, keliose kultūrose, rašyti literatūros kūrinius ne gimtąja, o pasirinktąja kalba. Ši knyga labiausiai kalbės tiems, kurie yra ar buvo išvykę, pasiklydę tarp kalbų, šalių, žemynų. Su žeme, iš kurios atvyko, emigrantus sieja kalbos ryšiai, bet galiausiai ir jie nenaudojami virsta praeities reliktu. Vieni rašytojai emigravę ima rašyti kita kalba (V. Nabokovas galiausiai tampa angliškai rašančiu amerikiečių rašytoju, vėlesnieji M. Kunderos kūriniai parašyti prancūzų kalba), kiti rašo gimtąja kalba, nors geografiškai nuo jos nutolę. Elena Lappin rašo anglų kalba – ne gimtąja ir net ne antrąja. Anglų kalba – pasiskolintoji, „a language I was lucky enough to be able to choose, after not finding a home in any of my other linguistic shelters. It is a borrowed language, a gift and a treasure.“ (299 psl.) Tai kalba, kuria autorė galiausiai ryžtasi rašyti literatūros kūrinius: „As a writer, I died when my parents decided to emigrate, and I knew it. And then came the miracle of being reborn in English.“ (299 psl.) Rašymas ne gimtąja kalba tampa ir savęs perkūrimu, ir atradimu iš naujo.
„All émigrés have the same basic story to tell: there is that small death when they leave their home country, there is that short-lived euphoria when it looks like they’ve been blessed with a chance to rewrite their script in a free society, and then comes the life-long sadness once they realize that they have made an irreversible choice to cut themselves off from their roots. They can appear successful and lead exciting lives – but they will always feel like second-class citizens, wherever they are. And that huge void inside will never, ever be filled.“
Elenos Lappin biografija nusidriekia per kelias šalis ir net žemynus. Gimė Rusijoje, vaikystėje kartu su motina išvyko į Čekiją, kur jau buvo apsistojęs įtėvis. Vėliau šeima persikėlė į Vokietiją. Lappin gyveno Izraelyje, Šiaurės Amerikoje, galiausiai su vyru ir vaikais įsikūrė Londone. Ji kalba penkiomis kalbomis – rusų, čekų, vokiečių, hebrajų, anglų; „penkios kalbos beieškant autoriaus“, jos pačios žodžiais. Rašo angliškai – kalba, išmokta vėliausiai, rašymui pasirinkta lyg ir atsitiktinai, nors vėliau išaiškėja, kad tai yra jos tikro tėvo gimtoji kalba.
Lappin pasakoja apie tai, ką reiškia augti keliose kalbose, keliose kultūrose, rašyti literatūros kūrinius ne gimtąja, o pasirinktąja kalba. Ši knyga labiausiai kalbės tiems, kurie yra ar buvo išvykę, pasiklydę tarp kalbų, šalių, žemynų. Su žeme, iš kurios atvyko, emigrantus sieja kalbos ryšiai, bet galiausiai ir jie nenaudojami virsta praeities reliktu. Vieni rašytojai emigravę ima rašyti kita kalba (V. Nabokovas galiausiai tampa angliškai rašančiu amerikiečių rašytoju, vėlesnieji M. Kunderos kūriniai parašyti prancūzų kalba), kiti rašo gimtąja kalba, nors geografiškai nuo jos nutolę. Elena Lappin rašo anglų kalba – ne gimtąja ir net ne antrąja. Anglų kalba – pasiskolintoji, „a language I was lucky enough to be able to choose, after not finding a home in any of my other linguistic shelters. It is a borrowed language, a gift and a treasure.“ (299 psl.) Tai kalba, kuria autorė galiausiai ryžtasi rašyti literatūros kūrinius: „As a writer, I died when my parents decided to emigrate, and I knew it. And then came the miracle of being reborn in English.“ (299 psl.) Rašymas ne gimtąja kalba tampa ir savęs perkūrimu, ir atradimu iš naujo.
„All émigrés have the same basic story to tell: there is that small death when they leave their home country, there is that short-lived euphoria when it looks like they’ve been blessed with a chance to rewrite their script in a free society, and then comes the life-long sadness once they realize that they have made an irreversible choice to cut themselves off from their roots. They can appear successful and lead exciting lives – but they will always feel like second-class citizens, wherever they are. And that huge void inside will never, ever be filled.“
December 14, 2021
Fantastic autobiography by Elena Lappin. Would 100% recommend to those who feel at home in more than one language and more than one place.
August 18, 2017
Elena Lappin scrive un memoriale che è una vera e propria autobiografia linguistica; l'autrice ha una storia familiare che parla ceco, russo, tedesco, ebraico e inglese. Nata nel 1954 a Mosca e cresciuta a Praga - e laureata in linguistica teorica - l'autrice ha una grande sensibilità per le lingue che hanno definito la storia della sua famiglia, ebrei espatriati dal blocco orientale a quello occidentale. Una famiglia di traduttori e di letterati. Ingenuamente speravo un po' in qualcosa di vicino a Canetti (è stata anzi quella lettura a spingermi verso questo libro). Senza scomodare paragoni tra il livello di quella e di questa letteratura, mi limito a dire che In che lingua sogno?, pur restando un libro tutto sommato affascinante, non compie mai uno scatto decisivo, e anche il rapporto con gli scrittori e i libri che l'autrice definisce decisivi per la propria formazione (i russi, i cechi, gli ebrei...) non va oltre un giudizio superficiale, oltre un racconto che molte volte - tristemente - ha il sapore di un curriculum.
May 28, 2023
Very enjoyable!
April 14, 2020
There is a saying in Czech that roughly translates as "You have as many lives as the number of languages you speak.' The author indeed wrote a colorful memoir attributed to her ability to speak in Russian, Czech, French, German, Hebrew and English. Born in Russia, attended early schooling in Czechoslavakia, teenagers years in German, tertiary education in Israel and early marriage life in Israel and Canada, USA and London to and fro. She discovered a secret of her life after having 3 kids of her own.
A delightful book to read with few photographs in between chapters.
A delightful book to read with few photographs in between chapters.
August 27, 2022
I was very much looking forward to this memoir as I find it interesting how other people deal with bi-/multilingual life. I sort of came away that we should certainly celebrate it more. We certainly find out about the author’s need/wish to become fluent in five languages due to various moves and jobs. Several of them were due to socio-political reasons, so we also get an interesting history lesson. Additionally, she discloses a mystery regarding her father, so the book should have been more of a page turner. She mentions many different people and works of literature and views her relationships through the lens of language. I struggled with this approach and would have preferred a more direct, practical description, particularly of her family life with four children which she only touched on briefly.
July 26, 2018
Nahlédnutí do duše emigrantky je nejen popis jednotlivých jazyku a historie jedné rozvětvené rodiny, ale i dotek dějin 20.století z obou polu železné opony
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September 3, 2017I don't often read memoirs, but this one gripped me through its premise of a journey through five languages.
I really enjoyed reading What Language Do I Dream In?. Lappin's life story itself is interesting enough as it is, but I am always very curious about individual's perspectives on historical moments (in this case, the Prague Spring and its consequences). All this, combined with descriptions of how Lappin navigated herself through languages and emigrations, makes What Language Do I Dream In?, simply put, a good read.
I really enjoyed reading What Language Do I Dream In?. Lappin's life story itself is interesting enough as it is, but I am always very curious about individual's perspectives on historical moments (in this case, the Prague Spring and its consequences). All this, combined with descriptions of how Lappin navigated herself through languages and emigrations, makes What Language Do I Dream In?, simply put, a good read.
August 21, 2018
Having grown upon bilingual in Quebec and having become friends with the author when she lived in Ottawa, I had a glimpse into her multilingual family. This memoir allowed me to journey through the meaning of language and identity in our lives, especially when one is multi-lingual.
February 29, 2020
I've always been fascinated by linguists and polyglots.
The book was a feast!
If only I could say that in two, four, six different languages!
A really interesting story about family, language and what is home.
I liked this memoir very much.
The book was a feast!
If only I could say that in two, four, six different languages!
A really interesting story about family, language and what is home.
I liked this memoir very much.
Read
August 5, 2016An interesting read in terms of how culture and language intersect.
March 28, 2020
There was something unsettling about the sense of ownership and, at certain instances, bravado that Elena Lappin had towards the lives of her distant relatives. A healthy ego does well for a memory, which Lappin makes so enjoyable in the first half of "what languages do I dream in" because she shares a life filled with change, adventure and perseverance. It is no surprise that, as she mentions in the book, her family has more than a few authors of memoirs.
At the near end, moments like
" I am a reluctant memoirist."
And
"It felt odd that I, the misplaced, forgotten, invisible, denied, and almost accidentally found again great-granddaughter, was the meticulous family historian..."
As these two ideas won't seem to exactly agree. When one pursuits family secrets, and goes on to write themselves into complicated and heavy truths, is it really reluctant? There are facts taken for granted that chafe and make you uncomfortable.
It is hard to recommend this book because of how it comes apart at the end from the collected and empowered style that has so much promise in the beginning.
At the near end, moments like
" I am a reluctant memoirist."
And
"It felt odd that I, the misplaced, forgotten, invisible, denied, and almost accidentally found again great-granddaughter, was the meticulous family historian..."
As these two ideas won't seem to exactly agree. When one pursuits family secrets, and goes on to write themselves into complicated and heavy truths, is it really reluctant? There are facts taken for granted that chafe and make you uncomfortable.
It is hard to recommend this book because of how it comes apart at the end from the collected and empowered style that has so much promise in the beginning.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 17, 2022
Ero molto incuriosita da questo memoir, che erroneamente credevo trattasse delle esperienze dell'autrice come traduttrice. Naturalmente mea culpa per non aver fatto attenzione alla sinossi.. ma forse è stato meglio così. La storia di EL è affascinante e lei la narra con brio e senza sentimentalismi.
Ho apprezzato tanto le pagine di riflessione sullo sradicamento dei figli e sul tentativo, mai del tutto realizzato, di fornire loro una patria, una casa che non fosse solo linguistica, ma anche materiale.
Vite novecentesche che si intrecciano ciascuna con la sua dose di inverosimiglianza per il mondo moderno iperconnesso.
Ho apprezzato tanto le pagine di riflessione sullo sradicamento dei figli e sul tentativo, mai del tutto realizzato, di fornire loro una patria, una casa che non fosse solo linguistica, ma anche materiale.
Vite novecentesche che si intrecciano ciascuna con la sua dose di inverosimiglianza per il mondo moderno iperconnesso.
October 1, 2020
I was initially drawn to the book by its title, captivated by what seems like an interesting material for a linguist to look at. Yet, this book is so much more than that. It's a fascinating look at how language shapes our lives, and all the intricate patterns it leaves on our mind, even when we're not aware of it.
A captivating story of a woman, a writer, a human on the road of self-search through countries and languages.
Definitely recommend it for anyone who has more than one language in their arsenal, or knows very personally how it feels like to belong to more than one country.
A captivating story of a woman, a writer, a human on the road of self-search through countries and languages.
Definitely recommend it for anyone who has more than one language in their arsenal, or knows very personally how it feels like to belong to more than one country.
May 20, 2018
I found it hard to keep track of the different individuals, with 3 sets of grandparents and even great grandparents history being discussed. It felt disjointed - probably half the point. Some of the stories were poignant and memorable but overall it was a bit of a struggle to get through. There were also photos throughout but without any captions to identify who is in them - an opportunity missed to help the reader put faces to the names and identify with them more.
December 8, 2024
Es hat etwas gedauert, bis ich es durch hatte, weil die Spannungskurve entsprechend dem biographischen Inhalt natürlich nicht so hoch ist. Das Buch hat weder mich noch mein Weltbild verändert, aber es bietet einen interessanten und informativen Einblick in die Geschichte von vielen, exemplarisch am spannenden Leben von Elena Lappin. Wirklich lustig und unterhaltsam geschrieben. Zum nachvollziehen, mitdenken und mitfühlen. Ich würde es empfehlen.
July 16, 2017
Came across this book in the library and was drawn in by the theme of shifting languages in the author's life. With Russia much in the news, it also provides some perspective on what it means and doesn't mean to speak Russian - in other words, the complex relationship Russian speakers may have with the country.
May 3, 2019
An amazing account of a multi lingual life. First language was Russian. Then the family moves to the Czech Republic and language number 2 comes in. Then they move to Hamburg. Language number 3. She also takes French and English. She also lives in Canada, New York and Israel. How amazing! Funny stories. Her family is very literary.
January 2, 2020
Vite incredibili che attraversano la storia con naturalezza. Gli espatriati, che non sono cosmopoliti, perché ogni partenza anticipa la successiva. Incompiutezza.
Un libro interessante, ma che risponde solo in parte alle aspettative suscitate dal bel titolo.
Un libro interessante, ma che risponde solo in parte alle aspettative suscitate dal bel titolo.
June 24, 2020
I quickly lost steam with this memoir, to be frank, for its rather trite memoir approach. Chapters that introduce a motif and nicely tie up that motif by the end, the rather typical tone of amazement, etc. Not much in the way of being a refreshing read.
November 17, 2017
Fascinating insight into the nature of identity and language.
April 30, 2018
Really enjoyed it.
June 26, 2018
A sign of the times, a book that should be read.
July 8, 2018
Interesting, but as a language teacher I found the 'oh and I picked up English in 5 minutes' tone a little annoying (jealousy, possibly).
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