I picked up this book from the library a few years ago but returned it without reading it after realizing that Lahiri had written it in Italian but someone else then translated it into English. I decided to give it another try after I recently wrote an essay called “Language Learning on the Road,” which caused me to consider the value of not just learning a language but immersing oneself in it.
The main reason I initially objected to the book was the high regard I had for Lahiri as an English-language writer. I first became acquainted with her work when I was living in Greece, teaching English and raising a family. I would frequently check out books from the English-language library of the private high school to which my eldest son had obtained a scholarship. On one of my visits, a librarian approached me, put a copy of Lahiri’s Pulitzer Prize-winning short story collection, Interpreter of Maladies, into my hand, and told me, “I think you’ll like this.” Like it? I loved it. I was blown away by its brilliance. It deals with the juxtaposition and clash of Bengali and American cultures, a theme that Lahiri continued to explore in her subsequent three books: The Namesake, Unaccustomed Earth, and The Lowlands.
The Bengali-American experience particularly resonated with me because I lived in Bangladesh and in West Bengal for several years. For awhile I even studied the Bengali language at Dhaka University, and two of my sons were born in Bangladesh, one in Dhaka and one in Chittagong. I was such a fan of Lahiri’s writing that I would do something I did for almost no other authors: purchase the expensive hardcover editions as soon as they were available so I could read them as quickly as possible.
And so I was skeptical when I first came across In Other Words. I wondered: How could a writer who wrote as brilliantly in one language as Lahiri did suddenly switch to another, effectively having to start again from scratch? This book itself provides the answer.
In Other Words has a most unusual format: the Italian original and the English translation are presented on the left and right-hand sides of the pages. Most English readers might see this as a waste of space, but it is of interest to me because, well, I lived in Italy for several years too. Another of my sons was born there. I learned to communicate fairly well in Italian, and though I haven’t practiced it in over thirty years, I enjoyed comparing snippets of the Italian and English texts.
The book consists of short, simple, but heartfelt essays. Most of them are explanations of why Lahiri decided to uproot herself from New York and move with her family to Rome, Italy, adopting a new country and a new language. She describes herself as a person with three languages, none of which completely satisfied her. Her first language, which she grew up with as a child, was Bengali. When she started school in the States, she had to switch to English, which was difficult at first, but when she began to write in it as a young woman, she met with astounding success. Italian, as an adopted language, allowed her to escape her uncertain linguistic past and plunge forward into a grand experiment.
She explains that when it came to translating In Other Words into English, she found the experience exceedingly difficult. She says: “I was reluctant to move back and forth between the two. My impulse at the time was to protect my Italian.” She addresses the concern I had when I first picked up the book: “If I mention that I’m writing in a new language these days, many people react negatively.” And: “A transformation, especially one that is deliberately sought, is often perceived as something disloyal, threatening.”
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After further contemplation, I realize that Lahiri’s experiment in groping for significance with Italian is another nail in the coffin for the use of AI in creative partnership. Creativity in the arts is, after all, a deeply human experience. An AI can analyze all the artwork in the known universe and yet still be incapable of individual creativity. All it can do is be an ultra-sophisticated copycat. On the other hand, Lahiri’s is a profoundly emotional journey.
And she expresses kinship with my own quest as a perennial nomad when she writes: “Those who don’t belong to any specific place can’t, in fact, return anywhere. The concepts of exile and return imply a point of origin, a homeland. Without a homeland and without a true mother tongue, I wander the world, even at my desk.” This reminds me of what I wrote at the conclusion of my continent-traversing memoir World Without Pain: The Story of a Search: “Perhaps the journey itself, the search, was the point of it all. But if it was then there was no end, no goal, no destination. One could not arrive; one could not rest, except intermittently. And home? I couldn’t go home again. Home was an abstraction from which one commenced a particular phase of the journey, not an absolute.”
Lahiri explains that part of her sense of dislocation in Italy had to do with her appearance. Although she spoke fluent Italian, she did not look Italian; as a result, people she encountered, especially shopkeepers, would attempt to speak with her in English, or would address her husband, who looked more Italian than she did. I empathize. When I wandered the Middle East and South Asia, my appearance starkly differentiated me from local people. Circumstances constantly reminded me that I was a stranger in a strange land. And yet when I returned to the country of my birth, the sense of dislocation did not abate. I still felt like an anomaly, an outlier, because after decades of world travel my perspective was so different from that of the people around me.
In conclusion, I have to say that ultimately it is the writer’s choice concerning what to say and how to say it. This is as it should be. Lahiri felt compelled to immerse herself in Italian, and the questioning of this choice, by readers or critics or whoever the hell else objects is ridiculous. It is her call, not theirs. In retrospect, after reading In Other Words, I would say she made the right call. It is a profound meditation on writing, language, culture, and identity. Highly recommended.




































