Babel

by R.F. Kuang

London was voracious, was growing fat on its spoils and still, somehow, starved. London was both unimaginably rich and wretchedly poor.

A lie was not a lie if it was never uttered; questions that were never asked did not need answers.

The English made regular use of only two flavours – salty and not salty – and did not seem to recognize any of the others. For a country that profited so well from trading in spices, its citizens were violently averse to actually using them; in all his time in Hampstead, he never tasted a dish that could be properly described as ‘seasoned’, let alone ‘spicy’.

In real life present day… these are absolute facts 😂

‘Well – since in the Bible, God split mankind apart. And I wonder if – if the purpose of translation, then, is to bring mankind back together. If we translate to – I don’t know, bring about that paradise again, on earth, between nations.’

I find this such a beautiful and hopeful thought. One of my Roman Empires. If we all just focused our energy into connecting and trying to understand one another and seeking comfort in the nuances of different groups and in individuals’ lived experiences… perhaps the world would be paradise.

English did not just borrow words from other languages; it was stuffed to the brim with foreign influences, a Frankenstein vernacular. And Robin found it incredible, how this country, whose citizens prided themselves so much on being better than the rest of the world, could not make it through an afternoon tea without borrowed goods.

I really like the idea of “Frankenstein vernacular” a patchwork of influence to create whatever is used in any present moment. What would it be like if they were instead grateful of such a history instead of disregarding external influences?

the fact that after everything they had told Letty, all the pain they had shared, she was the one who needed comfort.

Broke my heart that Letty could never translate her dearest friends’ perspectives and plight to be understood.

‘But that’s the problem, you see. No one’s focused on how we’re all connected. We only think about how we suffer, individually. The poor and middle-class of this country don’t realize they have more in common with us than they do with Westminster.’

If only we could wake up to this even today! Some people see it and get this. But what if we all did?

He had to go swiftly, resolute to the very end. ‘Good luck, Robin Swift.’ Abel squeezed his hand. ‘God be with you.’

I really liked the use of “go swiftly” and “good luck, Robin Swift”

Language was just difference. A thousand different ways of seeing, of moving through the world. No; a thousand worlds within one. And translation – a necessary endeavour, however futile, to move between them.

The futility of it all - the whole book, at every turn was futile even till the end. The end is still being played out in 2025 (obviously more than just language but everything that comes with a variation of language - culture, location, class, all that).

‘That’s just what translation is, I think. That’s all speaking is. Listening to the other and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they’re trying to say. Showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands.’

Clearly I love the quotes that express the desire and the hope to be understood and the goodness that would bring individuals, groups, communities… the world. It is the type of desperation I feel when I see the news or witness distress or unrest. I just want everyone to take the time to listen or seek understanding and perspective.