What do you think?
Rate this book
Nuova grammatica finlandese
Trieste, settembre 1943. Su una nave da guerra tedesca in attesa di partire per il fronte, viene portato un uomo in fin di vita. Un violento colpo alla testa ha mandato in frantumi la sua memoria, anche quella linguistica. Non ha con sé documenti quindi risulta difficile la sua identificazione. Da alcuni indizi il medico di bordo, di origine finlandese, crede di riconoscere in lui un compatriota. E per lunghi giorni gli si dedica, rimettendolo in forze e educandolo alla sua lingua madre, come un bambino. Poi lo fa ritornare a Helsinki.
205 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2000
79 people are currently reading
1402 people want to read
About the author
Diego Marani
41 books37 followersDiego Marani works as a senior linguist for the European Union in Brussels.
Every week he writes a column for a Swiss newspaper in Europanto, a language he has invented. He also published a collection of short stories in Europanto, in France.
In Italian he has published six novels, the most recent being l'Amico della Donna.
Every week he writes a column for a Swiss newspaper in Europanto, a language he has invented. He also published a collection of short stories in Europanto, in France.
In Italian he has published six novels, the most recent being l'Amico della Donna.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 262 reviews
Read
January 3, 2023How to Conjure the Qualities of a Language (Finnish) in Another
This book has a really tremendous idea: a man is badly injured; he can't remember who he is, and he has lost his capacity for language. His doctor decides the man is Finnish, because he has a Finnish name embroidered inside his shirt collar. The doctor is passionately Finnish himself. The patient imagines that the words he's learning have resonance somewhere deep within his injured brain. Even though each word and idea is unfamiliar, he assumes he's gradually reconnecting to his fundamental identity. It turns out, in the end, that he is Italian. He never learns that, but about halfway through the book he realizes he is not Finnish. At that point, however, it's too late: his identity is broken in an unusual and interesting way -- he's increasingly dedicated to learning Finnish, because he has no other way to create an identity for himself; and at the same time he's aware that the outlandishly complex Finnish grammar is floating on the surface of whatever he was, or might still be.
It's a great idea, with all sorts of implications for identity theory, language, and translation theory, and it fits with the ongoing fascination with stories of failed memory. Marani's book questions one of the common assumptions of identity theory in relation to language -- that the words, phonemes, and grammatical forms we learned as infants are deeply embedded in our nature, in our character. A seminar on structural linguistics could make good use of this book, and so could a seminar on translation theory.
Four issues prevent the book from exploring those problems as thoroughly as it might have.
1. The author never quite figured out how someone with no language can contemplate the etymology of words or the poetry of myths when he can scarcely understand anything that is being said to him. Throughout the entire book -- all the way up to ten pages from the end -- the narrator says things like, "Once again, I did not understand it all, although I could not fail to see that it contained harsh words" -- this after an impassioned and extremely eloquent letter from a woman who had loved him. (p. 173) After a lengthy and detailed exposition of the Finnish epic Karevala, the narrator says simply, "I had at last managed to begin to make some sense" of the myths. (p. 126) The book is full of eloquent, articulate, detailed accounts of national character, history, literature, and language, which we read in full, but which the narrator can't really understand. Somehow, he reconstructs these speeches by memorizing entire sentences, and by pondering what had only seemed to him to be passionate random sounds. It would have been easy, for example, to introduce another character who could hear and transcribe everything in detail, and then have the patient recall what he could of each speech.
2. The book has very conventional narrative structures: a story prefaced by a narrator, a journey to find a man who has disappeared, a book found and edited by another person, a love story represented by letters. In terms of narration it could have been written by anyone after Balzac or Poe. The stage-setting and continuous interpolated explanations (how the narrator found the book, how he edited it, how he reprints letters the soldier had transcribed) are all frameworks to support the central story. They could all have been dropped, and the book written by the soldier could just have been presented, with a second narrative by his doctor. (We get some detailed descriptions of what the notebook pages look like, so it might be an interesting art project to create the book we're asked to imagine, rather than the edited and corrected version we're given.) For some people, these devices still work, but for readers since Barthes, they should appear as what they are: scaffolding to help readers suspend disbelief in narratives that do not require that suspension.
3. There is Finnish nationalism throughout the book: nothing objectionable in that, except that it doesn't fit the theme. A pastor who becomes a friend of the soldier is a major voice in the second half of the book, and we listen to his sermons on Finnish poetry and nationhood. Often the soldier's only comment is that he isn't sure whether the pastor is exaggerating. These paeans are sometimes woven into the theme of language and memory, but often they belong in another book.
4. The most important subject in the book -- Finnish grammar -- is hardly discussed. There are many passages with etymologies, but only two passages in the book that even mention the fifteen noun cases or the the derivational suffixes. I would have loved a book, written by a translator like Marani, which took me through some of the labyrinths of Finnish, always with the possibility that the words might come from deep roots in the narrator's mind.
[The comments from 2017 and 2022, below, respond to the original review, written in 2012. They prompted me to re-read the book in 2023. Thanks to both readers!]
This book has a really tremendous idea: a man is badly injured; he can't remember who he is, and he has lost his capacity for language. His doctor decides the man is Finnish, because he has a Finnish name embroidered inside his shirt collar. The doctor is passionately Finnish himself. The patient imagines that the words he's learning have resonance somewhere deep within his injured brain. Even though each word and idea is unfamiliar, he assumes he's gradually reconnecting to his fundamental identity. It turns out, in the end, that he is Italian. He never learns that, but about halfway through the book he realizes he is not Finnish. At that point, however, it's too late: his identity is broken in an unusual and interesting way -- he's increasingly dedicated to learning Finnish, because he has no other way to create an identity for himself; and at the same time he's aware that the outlandishly complex Finnish grammar is floating on the surface of whatever he was, or might still be.
It's a great idea, with all sorts of implications for identity theory, language, and translation theory, and it fits with the ongoing fascination with stories of failed memory. Marani's book questions one of the common assumptions of identity theory in relation to language -- that the words, phonemes, and grammatical forms we learned as infants are deeply embedded in our nature, in our character. A seminar on structural linguistics could make good use of this book, and so could a seminar on translation theory.
Four issues prevent the book from exploring those problems as thoroughly as it might have.
1. The author never quite figured out how someone with no language can contemplate the etymology of words or the poetry of myths when he can scarcely understand anything that is being said to him. Throughout the entire book -- all the way up to ten pages from the end -- the narrator says things like, "Once again, I did not understand it all, although I could not fail to see that it contained harsh words" -- this after an impassioned and extremely eloquent letter from a woman who had loved him. (p. 173) After a lengthy and detailed exposition of the Finnish epic Karevala, the narrator says simply, "I had at last managed to begin to make some sense" of the myths. (p. 126) The book is full of eloquent, articulate, detailed accounts of national character, history, literature, and language, which we read in full, but which the narrator can't really understand. Somehow, he reconstructs these speeches by memorizing entire sentences, and by pondering what had only seemed to him to be passionate random sounds. It would have been easy, for example, to introduce another character who could hear and transcribe everything in detail, and then have the patient recall what he could of each speech.
2. The book has very conventional narrative structures: a story prefaced by a narrator, a journey to find a man who has disappeared, a book found and edited by another person, a love story represented by letters. In terms of narration it could have been written by anyone after Balzac or Poe. The stage-setting and continuous interpolated explanations (how the narrator found the book, how he edited it, how he reprints letters the soldier had transcribed) are all frameworks to support the central story. They could all have been dropped, and the book written by the soldier could just have been presented, with a second narrative by his doctor. (We get some detailed descriptions of what the notebook pages look like, so it might be an interesting art project to create the book we're asked to imagine, rather than the edited and corrected version we're given.) For some people, these devices still work, but for readers since Barthes, they should appear as what they are: scaffolding to help readers suspend disbelief in narratives that do not require that suspension.
3. There is Finnish nationalism throughout the book: nothing objectionable in that, except that it doesn't fit the theme. A pastor who becomes a friend of the soldier is a major voice in the second half of the book, and we listen to his sermons on Finnish poetry and nationhood. Often the soldier's only comment is that he isn't sure whether the pastor is exaggerating. These paeans are sometimes woven into the theme of language and memory, but often they belong in another book.
4. The most important subject in the book -- Finnish grammar -- is hardly discussed. There are many passages with etymologies, but only two passages in the book that even mention the fifteen noun cases or the the derivational suffixes. I would have loved a book, written by a translator like Marani, which took me through some of the labyrinths of Finnish, always with the possibility that the words might come from deep roots in the narrator's mind.
[The comments from 2017 and 2022, below, respond to the original review, written in 2012. They prompted me to re-read the book in 2023. Thanks to both readers!]
January 17, 2020
Melankolično, turobno, depresivno, tužno, ali zato diiivno pisano! Ideja od starta zanimljiva, ali ritam koji pruža je statičan, nepromjenjiv, uspavljujući. Sve skupa nije doprinijelo boljem utisku.. Trojka, jer knjiga je ok.. Iako je mogla biti puno više!
„Skalpelom sjećanja urezao sam riječi koje su bile rane, pustivši da iz njih šikne bol za koju sam vjerovao da je iscijeljena.“
„Vrijeme je kroz pukotine moje duše nakapalo tvrde stalaktite zlopamćenja.“
„... sve je podnošljivo dok od toga ne umiremo.“
„Neki okrutni bog stvorio nas je takvima da bol u nama nikad ne eksplodira sva najednom rastrgavajući nas. Filtri uma i tijela umiješaju se i prikoče žestinu, tako da možemo pri punoj svijesti prisustvovati svojoj patnji, opipati svaki dio sebe koji nemoćno hropće, nesposoban umrijeti.“
„Skalpelom sjećanja urezao sam riječi koje su bile rane, pustivši da iz njih šikne bol za koju sam vjerovao da je iscijeljena.“
„Vrijeme je kroz pukotine moje duše nakapalo tvrde stalaktite zlopamćenja.“
„... sve je podnošljivo dok od toga ne umiremo.“
„Neki okrutni bog stvorio nas je takvima da bol u nama nikad ne eksplodira sva najednom rastrgavajući nas. Filtri uma i tijela umiješaju se i prikoče žestinu, tako da možemo pri punoj svijesti prisustvovati svojoj patnji, opipati svaki dio sebe koji nemoćno hropće, nesposoban umrijeti.“
May 4, 2016
Ένας άντρας που χάνει τη μνήμη και τη γλώσσα του μετά από ένα βαρύ τραυματισμό κατά τη διάρκεια του δεύτερου παγκόσμιου πόλεμου. Ένας ενοχικός Φινλανδός γιατρός που πληρώνει κρίματα που δεν του ανήκουν και βασανίζεται από τη νοσταλγία για τον τόπο του, τον στέλνει στη Φινλανδία πιστεύοντας πως είναι συμπατριώτης του εξαιτίας κάποιων ενδείξεων. Ένας λουθηρανός πάστορας και ταυτόχρονα ένας από τους τελευταίους σαμάνους που προσπαθεί να του διδάξει τη φινλανδική γλώσσα και μέσα από αυτήν τη κουλτούρα ενός λαού. Τέλος, μια νοσοκόμα που πιστεύει πως ο άνθρωπος επιβιώνει μόνο αν έχει την πολυτέλεια ή την επιλογή του να ξεχνά.
Ένα βιβλίο έκπληξη για μένα. Μου τράβηξε το ενδιαφέρον το πρωτότυπο του θέματος αρχικά και έτσι ξεκίνησα να διαβάζω τις πρώτες σελίδες αν και δεν ήξερα τίποτα για τον συγγραφέα. Δεν μπόρεσα να το αφήσω από τα χέρια μου αν και έκανα συχνά διαλείμματα για να σκεφτώ τα θέματα που πραγματεύεται. Η μνήμη, η γλώσσα και ότι αυτή κουβαλά, η πατρίδα, η ταυτότητα ενός ανθρώπου και η ικανότητά του ή η έλλειψη ικανότητας να σχετίζεται με τον κόσμο, με το παρόν και να χτίζει έναν καινούργιο αληθινό (;) εαυτό όταν αυτά λείψουν. Πολλά αναπάντητα ερωτηματικά αλλά αυτά είναι ακριβώς τα στοιχεία που μου αρέσουν σε ένα βιβλίο.
Ένα βιβλίο το οποίο είναι εύκολα προσβάσιμο μιας και ο λόγος μπορεί να περιγραφεί σαν λιτός και η αφήγηση γραμμική. Ένα βιβλίο όχι τόσο υψηλής λογοτεχνικής αξίας με την κλασσική έννοια, όμως ένα βιβλίο που έχει να σου δώσει και του οποίου οι ιδέες, υποψιάζομαι, θα στριφογυρνούν για πολύ καιρό στο μυαλό μου.
«...Ερχόμαστε στο φως σε έναν και μόνο τόπο και μόνο σ’αυτόν ανήκουμε. Ο κοσμοπολίτης που πηδά από τη μια ταυτότητα στην άλλη όπως ο ακροβάτης από σκοινί σε σκοινί, αργά ή γρήγορα θα κάνει λάθος σε κάποια από τις λαβές του, και τότε θα βρεθεί καταγής, καθηλωμένος κι εκείνος απ’την ανάμνηση ενός σκονισμένου δρόμου με τρία-τέσσερα σπιτάκια. Ακόμη κι εκείνος που μια ζωή ισχυρίζεται πως δεν έχει πατρίδα, όταν πλησιάζει η ώρα του θανάτου ακούει το ξαφνικό κάλεσμα του τόπου όπου ξεκίνησαν όλα, όπου ξέρει ότι τον περιμένουν. Εκεί και μόνο εκεί τα πάντα μένουν πάντα αναλλοίωτα, κάθε μυρωδιά, κάθε χρώμα, κάθε θόρυβος στη γνώριμη θέση του. Και μαζί μ’αυτό εξαφανίζεται κάθε πόνος. Γιατί όταν η αρχή και το τέλος συναντιούνται, είναι σαν να μην έχει συμβεί τίποτα. Όλα ήταν ένα όνειρο μέσα σ’ ένα άλλο όνειρο, κι ίσως ο άνθρωπος να είναι πλασμένος να ζει μέσα σ’αυτό.»
ΥΓ Στα plus για μένα, η κάποια γνώση που απέκτησα γύρω από την κουλτούρα αυτού του τόσο άγνωστου σε μένα λαού. Ομολογώ πως μετά την ανάγνωση αυτού του βιβλίου άρχισα να καταλαβαίνω κάποια πράγματα , όπως π.χ. τη στάση αυτής της χώρας στο Β’ Παγκόσμιο Πόλεμο και τώρα στην Ευρωπαϊκή Ένωση, λίγο περισσότερο.
Ένα βιβλίο έκπληξη για μένα. Μου τράβηξε το ενδιαφέρον το πρωτότυπο του θέματος αρχικά και έτσι ξεκίνησα να διαβάζω τις πρώτες σελίδες αν και δεν ήξερα τίποτα για τον συγγραφέα. Δεν μπόρεσα να το αφήσω από τα χέρια μου αν και έκανα συχνά διαλείμματα για να σκεφτώ τα θέματα που πραγματεύεται. Η μνήμη, η γλώσσα και ότι αυτή κουβαλά, η πατρίδα, η ταυτότητα ενός ανθρώπου και η ικανότητά του ή η έλλειψη ικανότητας να σχετίζεται με τον κόσμο, με το παρόν και να χτίζει έναν καινούργιο αληθινό (;) εαυτό όταν αυτά λείψουν. Πολλά αναπάντητα ερωτηματικά αλλά αυτά είναι ακριβώς τα στοιχεία που μου αρέσουν σε ένα βιβλίο.
Ένα βιβλίο το οποίο είναι εύκολα προσβάσιμο μιας και ο λόγος μπορεί να περιγραφεί σαν λιτός και η αφήγηση γραμμική. Ένα βιβλίο όχι τόσο υψηλής λογοτεχνικής αξίας με την κλασσική έννοια, όμως ένα βιβλίο που έχει να σου δώσει και του οποίου οι ιδέες, υποψιάζομαι, θα στριφογυρνούν για πολύ καιρό στο μυαλό μου.
«...Ερχόμαστε στο φως σε έναν και μόνο τόπο και μόνο σ’αυτόν ανήκουμε. Ο κοσμοπολίτης που πηδά από τη μια ταυτότητα στην άλλη όπως ο ακροβάτης από σκοινί σε σκοινί, αργά ή γρήγορα θα κάνει λάθος σε κάποια από τις λαβές του, και τότε θα βρεθεί καταγής, καθηλωμένος κι εκείνος απ’την ανάμνηση ενός σκονισμένου δρόμου με τρία-τέσσερα σπιτάκια. Ακόμη κι εκείνος που μια ζωή ισχυρίζεται πως δεν έχει πατρίδα, όταν πλησιάζει η ώρα του θανάτου ακούει το ξαφνικό κάλεσμα του τόπου όπου ξεκίνησαν όλα, όπου ξέρει ότι τον περιμένουν. Εκεί και μόνο εκεί τα πάντα μένουν πάντα αναλλοίωτα, κάθε μυρωδιά, κάθε χρώμα, κάθε θόρυβος στη γνώριμη θέση του. Και μαζί μ’αυτό εξαφανίζεται κάθε πόνος. Γιατί όταν η αρχή και το τέλος συναντιούνται, είναι σαν να μην έχει συμβεί τίποτα. Όλα ήταν ένα όνειρο μέσα σ’ ένα άλλο όνειρο, κι ίσως ο άνθρωπος να είναι πλασμένος να ζει μέσα σ’αυτό.»
ΥΓ Στα plus για μένα, η κάποια γνώση που απέκτησα γύρω από την κουλτούρα αυτού του τόσο άγνωστου σε μένα λαού. Ομολογώ πως μετά την ανάγνωση αυτού του βιβλίου άρχισα να καταλαβαίνω κάποια πράγματα , όπως π.χ. τη στάση αυτής της χώρας στο Β’ Παγκόσμιο Πόλεμο και τώρα στην Ευρωπαϊκή Ένωση, λίγο περισσότερο.
February 17, 2012
Didn't actually finish it, so my partner briefed me on the denouement. Good ending to a desperately tedious book. I wanted to like it. I love language, I'm interested in grammar, anyone with amnesia is potentially an interesting story. But... Sorry. I kept losing the will to live.
March 6, 2021
8,5/10*
Σύμφωνα με τον Τσόμσκι, αν ένας Αρειανός επισκεπτόταν τη Γη, θα διαπίστωνε ότι -παρά τις όποιες διαφοροποιήσεις- οι γήινοι μιλάνε μια μάλλον απλή γλώσσα. Ισχύει λοιπόν η γενικότερη άποψη των Γενετιστών περί των γλωσσικών καθολικών, δηλαδή κάποιων έμφυτων δομών που κάνουν όλες τις γλώσσες να έχουν κοινό υπόστρωμα; Είναι όντως ο ανθρώπινος εγκέφαλος δεκτικός σε όλες τις γλώσσες, ακόμη και σε θεωρούμενες απαιτητικές, όπως τα Φινλανδικά με τη σύνθετη γραμματική τους;
Πίσω από έναν καθόλου πιασάρικο (μάλλον αποτρεπτικό για τον μέσο αναγνώστη) τίτλο, ο Marani στήνει ένα ευφυές, πολυεπίπεδο έργο. Ένας ημιθανής άντρας διασώζεται από ένα γερμανικό πλοίο, στο λυκαυγές του Β’.Π.Π. Πάσχει από πλήρη αμνησία και τα μοναδικά αναγνωριστικά που φέρει παραπέμπουν σε Φινλανδό στρατιώτη. Ο γιατρός του πλοίου θέτει ως προσωπικό στοίχημα να τον βοηθήσει να επανανακτήσει τη χαμένη του γλώσσα (ή μήπως ταυτότητα;).
Στέλνοντάς τον πίσω στη πάτρια Φινλανδικά εδάφη, θεωρεί ότι βοηθά ένα κενό σαρκίο, έναν άπατρι, έναν αμνήμονα, κοντολογίς έναν μη-πολίτη, χωρίς παρελθόν και παρόν, να ξαναγίνει κάποιος. Ένας ιδιόρρυθμος Λουθηρανός ιερέας, αναλαμβάνει να τον μυήσει στα μυστικά της Φινλανδικής γλώσσας και παράδοσης, μέσα από πύρινο λόγο, παραβολές, φολκλορικό υπόβαθρο και σκληρή, ρυθμιστική γραμματική. Είναι αυτά τα σπαράγματα αναμνήσεων που ξεπηδούν, η απόδειξη για το Φινλανδικό παρελθόν του; Η μήπως πρόκειται για μια ακούσια φάρσα που αποδεικνύει απλώς τις «φιλικές» εγκεφαλικές συνάψεις απέναντι στην εκμάθηση οποιασδήποτε γλώσσας; Έζησε τελικά ποτέ ως Φινλανδός;
Η μνήμη είναι γλώσσα, αλλά και η γλώσσα είναι μνήμη. Η γλώσσα όμως είναι και ταυτότητα και πέρα από το ψυχογλωσσολογικό παιχνίδι του συγγραφέα, όλα αυτά είναι στοιχεία τα οποία μας υφαρπάζει ο πόλεμος. Ένα γλωσσολογικό παραμύθι χωρίς την υπέρτατη λογοτεχνική αξία, με στρωτή γλώσσα που σκοντάφτει ενίοτε σε γραμματικές λεπτομέρειες που θα κουράσουν κάποιους, αλλά και ένα ευφυές βιβλίο, με υπόρρητα αντιμιλιταριστικό στοιχείο, φοβερά ατμοσφαιρικό και πιστό στην αέναη επιταγή της γνήσιας λογοτεχνίας: να πυροδοτεί σκέψεις και αναδιφήσεις μέσα μας. Αν θεωρείτε εαυτόν αναγνώστη, ΜΗΝ το προσπεράσετε, όσο δύσκολο και αν σας φανεί.
Σύμφωνα με τον Τσόμσκι, αν ένας Αρειανός επισκεπτόταν τη Γη, θα διαπίστωνε ότι -παρά τις όποιες διαφοροποιήσεις- οι γήινοι μιλάνε μια μάλλον απλή γλώσσα. Ισχύει λοιπόν η γενικότερη άποψη των Γενετιστών περί των γλωσσικών καθολικών, δηλαδή κάποιων έμφυτων δομών που κάνουν όλες τις γλώσσες να έχουν κοινό υπόστρωμα; Είναι όντως ο ανθρώπινος εγκέφαλος δεκτικός σε όλες τις γλώσσες, ακόμη και σε θεωρούμενες απαιτητικές, όπως τα Φινλανδικά με τη σύνθετη γραμματική τους;
Πίσω από έναν καθόλου πιασάρικο (μάλλον αποτρεπτικό για τον μέσο αναγνώστη) τίτλο, ο Marani στήνει ένα ευφυές, πολυεπίπεδο έργο. Ένας ημιθανής άντρας διασώζεται από ένα γερμανικό πλοίο, στο λυκαυγές του Β’.Π.Π. Πάσχει από πλήρη αμνησία και τα μοναδικά αναγνωριστικά που φέρει παραπέμπουν σε Φινλανδό στρατιώτη. Ο γιατρός του πλοίου θέτει ως προσωπικό στοίχημα να τον βοηθήσει να επανανακτήσει τη χαμένη του γλώσσα (ή μήπως ταυτότητα;).
Στέλνοντάς τον πίσω στη πάτρια Φινλανδικά εδάφη, θεωρεί ότι βοηθά ένα κενό σαρκίο, έναν άπατρι, έναν αμνήμονα, κοντολογίς έναν μη-πολίτη, χωρίς παρελθόν και παρόν, να ξαναγίνει κάποιος. Ένας ιδιόρρυθμος Λουθηρανός ιερέας, αναλαμβάνει να τον μυήσει στα μυστικά της Φινλανδικής γλώσσας και παράδοσης, μέσα από πύρινο λόγο, παραβολές, φολκλορικό υπόβαθρο και σκληρή, ρυθμιστική γραμματική. Είναι αυτά τα σπαράγματα αναμνήσεων που ξεπηδούν, η απόδειξη για το Φινλανδικό παρελθόν του; Η μήπως πρόκειται για μια ακούσια φάρσα που αποδεικνύει απλώς τις «φιλικές» εγκεφαλικές συνάψεις απέναντι στην εκμάθηση οποιασδήποτε γλώσσας; Έζησε τελικά ποτέ ως Φινλανδός;
Η μνήμη είναι γλώσσα, αλλά και η γλώσσα είναι μνήμη. Η γλώσσα όμως είναι και ταυτότητα και πέρα από το ψυχογλωσσολογικό παιχνίδι του συγγραφέα, όλα αυτά είναι στοιχεία τα οποία μας υφαρπάζει ο πόλεμος. Ένα γλωσσολογικό παραμύθι χωρίς την υπέρτατη λογοτεχνική αξία, με στρωτή γλώσσα που σκοντάφτει ενίοτε σε γραμματικές λεπτομέρειες που θα κουράσουν κάποιους, αλλά και ένα ευφυές βιβλίο, με υπόρρητα αντιμιλιταριστικό στοιχείο, φοβερά ατμοσφαιρικό και πιστό στην αέναη επιταγή της γνήσιας λογοτεχνίας: να πυροδοτεί σκέψεις και αναδιφήσεις μέσα μας. Αν θεωρείτε εαυτόν αναγνώστη, ΜΗΝ το προσπεράσετε, όσο δύσκολο και αν σας φανεί.
December 16, 2016
‘You use words nicely, too,’ she said. ‘Now that you know it better, what is it that you most like about our language?’
‘What do I like about it most?’
‘Yes. A word, a phrase …’
‘Well, I know this may strike you as strange, but what I like is the abessive!’ I answered hesitantly.
‘The abessive? But that’s a case, a declension!’ she shot back in amusement.
‘Yes, a declension for things we haven’t got: koskenkorvatta, toivatta, no koskenkorva, no hope, both are declined in the abessive. It’s beautiful, it’s like poetry! And also very useful, because there are more things we haven’t got than that we have. All the best words in this world should be declined in the abessive!’
What a beautiful, sad book about loss, about the insanity of war, about the importance of love. And about the importance of language.
A man is found barely alive after a terrible act of violence. He begins to re-build his life under the guidance of a doctor who only has a name label found in his jacket to go on. The name is Finnish and so is the doctor, so, because the man’s trauma has stolen even his language, he begins to teach him Finnish to help him regain his memory and identity. Language is a mystery for a long time, but our hero moves to Finland and grows in his understanding. He befriends a priest who helps his understanding grow.
War happens. Love starts to happen. A sad story evolves.
It’s not complicated. It’s not fancy. But it is beautiful.
In European languages the sentence is a straight line; in Finnish it is a circle, within which something happens.
‘What do I like about it most?’
‘Yes. A word, a phrase …’
‘Well, I know this may strike you as strange, but what I like is the abessive!’ I answered hesitantly.
‘The abessive? But that’s a case, a declension!’ she shot back in amusement.
‘Yes, a declension for things we haven’t got: koskenkorvatta, toivatta, no koskenkorva, no hope, both are declined in the abessive. It’s beautiful, it’s like poetry! And also very useful, because there are more things we haven’t got than that we have. All the best words in this world should be declined in the abessive!’
What a beautiful, sad book about loss, about the insanity of war, about the importance of love. And about the importance of language.
A man is found barely alive after a terrible act of violence. He begins to re-build his life under the guidance of a doctor who only has a name label found in his jacket to go on. The name is Finnish and so is the doctor, so, because the man’s trauma has stolen even his language, he begins to teach him Finnish to help him regain his memory and identity. Language is a mystery for a long time, but our hero moves to Finland and grows in his understanding. He befriends a priest who helps his understanding grow.
War happens. Love starts to happen. A sad story evolves.
It’s not complicated. It’s not fancy. But it is beautiful.
In European languages the sentence is a straight line; in Finnish it is a circle, within which something happens.
October 12, 2022
"Μερικές φορές η μοίρα μάς μετατρέπει σε όργανα των σχεδίων της,μας καθιστά συνένοχους της απανθρωπιάς της χωρίς να το συνειδητοποιούμε."
"Σαν τα γυάλινα βάζα,οι γλωσσικές φόρμες συγκρατούν το υγρό των λέξεων που διαφορετικά θα χυνόταν,θα σκορπιζόταν στη σιωπή.Οι φόρμες μιας γλώσσας αντανακλούν αναπόφευκτα αυτόν που τη μιλάει,διαμορφώνουν το πρόσωπο,τα σπίτια,τη γη,τις συνήθειες,το φαγητό του."
"Και η σιωπή είναι μουσική.Στη σχολή,η δασκάλα της ωδικής έλεγε πως η σιωπή στη μουσική είναι όπως το λευκό σε μια ακουαρέλα.Δεν είναι χρώμα,αλλά χρησιμεύουν για να ζωγραφίζει κανείς.Η σιωπή είναι αυτό που μένει γύρω από τα στίγματα των ήχων κι από κάθε σχέδιο..."
Ένα πολύ ξεχωριστό βιβλίο και μια ιδιαίτερη ιστορία που μπορεί και να είναι αληθινή,ποιος ξέρει...
"Σαν τα γυάλινα βάζα,οι γλωσσικές φόρμες συγκρατούν το υγρό των λέξεων που διαφορετικά θα χυνόταν,θα σκορπιζόταν στη σιωπή.Οι φόρμες μιας γλώσσας αντανακλούν αναπόφευκτα αυτόν που τη μιλάει,διαμορφώνουν το πρόσωπο,τα σπίτια,τη γη,τις συνήθειες,το φαγητό του."
"Και η σιωπή είναι μουσική.Στη σχολή,η δασκάλα της ωδικής έλεγε πως η σιωπή στη μουσική είναι όπως το λευκό σε μια ακουαρέλα.Δεν είναι χρώμα,αλλά χρησιμεύουν για να ζωγραφίζει κανείς.Η σιωπή είναι αυτό που μένει γύρω από τα στίγματα των ήχων κι από κάθε σχέδιο..."
Ένα πολύ ξεχωριστό βιβλίο και μια ιδιαίτερη ιστορία που μπορεί και να είναι αληθινή,ποιος ξέρει...
August 23, 2018
Ένας στοχασμός για το πως η γλώσσα, η πατρίδα και η προσωπική ταυτότητα λειτουργούν σαν συγκοινωνούντα δοχεία στην ψυχή ενός ανθρώπου.
September 15, 2023
#مرد_بی_زبان کتابی درباره زبان و هویت که به نظرم از اون کتابهایی نبود که داخلش بخواهیم دنبال هیجان بگردیم یا اینکه که یک نفس تا انتها بخوانیم.
حدس انتهای کتاب برای من نسبتن راحت بود که انتهای کتاب چه اتفاقی می افتد اما نوع روایتِ کتاب که جزئیات را بیان میکند و این چگونگی ها را و سوالها را پاسخ می دهد را دوست داشتم ، به نظرم طمانینه و شکیبایی و حوصله می طلبد ، و کمی هم اگر این نوع داستانهایی که در جریانی ملایم در حال روایت هست را دوست داشت ، داستان مردی ست که وقتی بیدار می شود هیچ چیز بخاطر نمیاورد، نه اطرافیان، نه مکان ، نه خود و حتی زبان مادری ش را بیاد نمیاورد...!
مصداق کامل همان کلمه بی هویت
اگر نتوانیم حرف بزنیم ؟ نتوانیم ارتباط برقرار کنیم ؟
فرهنگ و هویت و هستی مان چگونه معنا پیدا می کند؟
«مردی که بخشی از وجودش نابود شده، مردی محروم از گذشته، از نام و زبانش، کسی که محکوم بود بدون حافظه، بدون دلتنگی و بدون رؤیا زندگی کند» ص۳۴
چقدر جملاتی زیبا دیدم در این کتاب :
«... اما حالا خود را رها کرده بودم تا زندگی مرا با خود ببرد به درون آواز در دل آن خیابان تا دور شوم از تنهایی، از سکوت ، دور شوم از خود» یا
«پیچ هایی که کلمات را چنان قرص و محکم به کاغذ وصل کرده بودند، کم کم شل شدند و اجازه دادند چند قطره معنا از دل آنها فرو بریزد »
ارتباط جلد کتاب که تصویر توت فرنگی بود هم جالب بود
«اوما ماآ مانسیکا » که یعنی سرزمین آدم مثل توت فرنگیه، توت فرنگی که قرمز و شیرینه مثل سرزمین خود آدم، که به عبارت دیگه میشه هرکی تو خونه خودش راحته.
حدس انتهای کتاب برای من نسبتن راحت بود که انتهای کتاب چه اتفاقی می افتد اما نوع روایتِ کتاب که جزئیات را بیان میکند و این چگونگی ها را و سوالها را پاسخ می دهد را دوست داشتم ، به نظرم طمانینه و شکیبایی و حوصله می طلبد ، و کمی هم اگر این نوع داستانهایی که در جریانی ملایم در حال روایت هست را دوست داشت ، داستان مردی ست که وقتی بیدار می شود هیچ چیز بخاطر نمیاورد، نه اطرافیان، نه مکان ، نه خود و حتی زبان مادری ش را بیاد نمیاورد...!
مصداق کامل همان کلمه بی هویت
اگر نتوانیم حرف بزنیم ؟ نتوانیم ارتباط برقرار کنیم ؟
فرهنگ و هویت و هستی مان چگونه معنا پیدا می کند؟
«مردی که بخشی از وجودش نابود شده، مردی محروم از گذشته، از نام و زبانش، کسی که محکوم بود بدون حافظه، بدون دلتنگی و بدون رؤیا زندگی کند» ص۳۴
چقدر جملاتی زیبا دیدم در این کتاب :
«... اما حالا خود را رها کرده بودم تا زندگی مرا با خود ببرد به درون آواز در دل آن خیابان تا دور شوم از تنهایی، از سکوت ، دور شوم از خود» یا
«پیچ هایی که کلمات را چنان قرص و محکم به کاغذ وصل کرده بودند، کم کم شل شدند و اجازه دادند چند قطره معنا از دل آنها فرو بریزد »
ارتباط جلد کتاب که تصویر توت فرنگی بود هم جالب بود
«اوما ماآ مانسیکا » که یعنی سرزمین آدم مثل توت فرنگیه، توت فرنگی که قرمز و شیرینه مثل سرزمین خود آدم، که به عبارت دیگه میشه هرکی تو خونه خودش راحته.
July 20, 2016
Ρήμα.
Λύω, λύεις, λύει. Λύομεν, λύετε, λύουσι.
Ουσιαστικό τριτόκλιτο.
Ο πατήρ, του πατρός, τω πατρί, τον πατέρα, ω πάτερ. Οι πατέρες, των πατέρων, τοις πατράσι, τους πατέρας, ω πατέρες!
Αρχαιοελληνική γραμματική. Κι αν δυσκολεύτηκα στο Γυμνάσιο να προσθέσω και πέμπτη πτώση στο λεξιλόγιο μου, φαντάσου τώρα να έχεις να διαχειριστείς δεκαπέντε πτώσεις στην καθημερινότητά σου. Η άχρηστη πληροφορία του βιβλίου: η φινλανδική γλώσσα έχει δεκαπέντε πτώσεις. Αυτός και μόνο ο λόγος αρκεί για να μην περάσω ούτε έξω από πόρτα φροντιστηρίου φινλανδικών.
Συνιστώ ψυχραιμία αδέλφια! Δεν πρόκειται για εγχειρίδιο γραμματικής ή συντακτικού. Πρόκειται για ένα βαθύ αντιπολεμικό βιβλίο που πραγματεύεται φιλοσοφικά και υπαρξιακά ζητήματα όπως η απώλεια μνήμης, το παρελθόν και το παρόν, η έννοια της πατρίδας, το συλλογικό γίγνεσθαι, οι εθνικοί μύθοι και η παντοδυναμία μιας γλώσσας.
Η υπόθεση είναι μεγαλειώδης στην απλότητά της. Εν μέσω Δευτέρου Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, ο φινλανδικής καταγωγής Γερμανός γιατρός Πέτρι Φρίαρι, βρίσκεται αμανάτι μ’έναν ‘ασθενή – φάντασμα’. Έναν ασθενή βαριά τραυματισμένο στο κεφάλι που όταν ανακτά τις αισθήσεις του, όχι απλώς έχει αμνησία, αλλά έχει ξεχάσει ακόμα και τη μητρική του γλώσσα. Μόνο ένα όνομα στο αμπέχονό του, Σάμπο Κάργιαλαϊνεν (φτου σκουληκομυρμηγκότρυπα!) μαρτυρά κάτι από την ταυτότητά του. Το παιδικό τραύμα του γιατρού που ακόμα αιμορραγεί, τον οδηγεί στο συμπέρασμα πως ο ασθενής του είναι Φινλανδός. Γιατί; Γιατί κατά βάθος έτσι γουστάρει. Τον στέλνει σούμπιτο λοιπόν στη Φινλανδία, όχι με συνταγές για φάρμακα αλλά με συμβουλές γραμματικής. Πιστεύει πως εάν ξαναμάθει με πάθος τη μητρική του φινλανδική γλώσσα, ο Σάμπο θα ανακτήσει τη χαμένη του μνήμη. Απρόσμενος δάσκαλος, ένας λουθηρανός στρατιωτικός ιερέας, ο Κοσκόλα και μια μικρή νότα στο μελαγχολικό σκοτάδι, η Ίλμα, η ερωτευμένη νοσοκόμα.
Δεν είναι από τα βιβλία που διαβάζεις μονορούφι. Ούτε είναι από τα βιβλία που αγωνιάς για το τι θα γίνει παρακάτω. Ίσα – ίσα ο γιατρός Φρίαρι από τις πρώτες σελίδες του βιβλίου μας προετοιμάζει πως ο ήρωας μας δεν είχε και τόσο καλό τέλος. Μην περιμένετε να σας πω και το τέλος του. Είπαμε πως είμαι spoiler skorofido αλλά και τα spoiler έχουν τα όρια τους. Είναι ένα βιβλίο ας το πούμε ημερολογιακόν (οι σημειώσεις του Σάμπο) που διακόπτεται από κάποιες μεταγενέστερες σκέψεις του ιατρού και με εμβόλιμες μια – δυο επιστολές της νοσοκόμας. Ένα βιβλίο στο οποίο κυριαρχεί μια βαριά μελαγχολική ατμόσφαιρα που αισθάνεσαι να περπατάς στις λάσπες του ανοιξιάτικου Ελσίνκι ή μια μούχλα που μπουκώνει τα ρουθούνια σου από το σκευοφυλάκιο της εκκλησίας.
Οι γνώσεις του συγγραφέα πάνω στην επιστήμη της γλώσσας είναι εμφανέστατες και προσωπικώς τις λάτρεψα. Είναι η γλώσσα που επηρεάζει τις σκέψεις μας, είναι η γλώσσα που μας διαμορφώνει, είναι η γλώσσα που δημιουργεί την ταυτότητά μας; (Πως τα λέω το άτιμο σήμερα!)
Ένα αποσπασματάκι από τα πολλά περί γλώσσας…
«Αντέγραψα τα λόγια του Porilaisten marssi σχεδόν χωρίς να τα καταλαβαίνω, σαν να ήταν η μυστική συνταγή κάποιου μαγικού φίλτρου, και γι’αυτό μου φάνηκαν ακόμα πιο γοητευτικά. Από όλες τις λέξεις που είχα αποτυπώσει με το μολύβι στο τετράδιο, αναρωτιόμουν ποιες ήταν αυτές που λίγο πριν είχαν κάνει τους στρατιώτες να κλάψουν. Το ότι ήταν πολεμικές λέξεις ήταν ολοφάνερο. Υπήρχαν κάτι μεγάλες, γεμάτες απανωτά φωνήεντα, με τα διαλυτικά για κράνος και το h σαν τελαμώνα περασμένη χιαστί. Άλλες, πολύ σύντομες, ακρωτηριασμένες από αποστρόφους, κουνούσαν τα κολοβωμένα τους μέλη στην άδεια γραμμή. Μερικά κεφαλαία γράμματα υποδήλωναν τόπους διάσημων μαχών που δεν τους ήξερα. Αναγνώρισα τη λέξη που υποδηλώνει τη σημαία, κι ήταν αλήθεια πως ανέμιζε πλαταγίζοντας ανάμεσα στα χείλη.»
… κι επειδή το Porilaisten marssi, κλασικό πολεμικό φινλανδικό εμβατήριο, στα αυτιά του Σάμπο ακούγεται ως ερωτικό θαρρείς κάλεσμα, το έψαξα, το βρήκα και σας το χαρίζω.
Στα μείον, οι εκτενείς σε κάποια σημεία αναφορές στη φινλανδική μυθολογία και στο δικό τους «ομηρικό έπος». Εκεί με τον Βάιναμοϊνεν και τον Βίπουνεν και την παρθένα της Πόχγιολα, το έχασα εντελώς, αλλά χαλάλι…
Ένα επιπλέον «συν» η ιστορική σύγκριση φινλανδικού λουθηρανισμού και ελληνικής ορθοδοξίας… το λες και μίνι θεολογικό μανιφέστο…
Το λάτρεψα αυτό το βιβλίο, αν και φαντάζομαι πως σε πολλούς θα πέσει βαρύ στο στομάχι…
8,5/10 με όλη μου την αγάπη
http://skorofido.blogspot.gr/2016/07/...
Λύω, λύεις, λύει. Λύομεν, λύετε, λύουσι.
Ουσιαστικό τριτόκλιτο.
Ο πατήρ, του πατρός, τω πατρί, τον πατέρα, ω πάτερ. Οι πατέρες, των πατέρων, τοις πατράσι, τους πατέρας, ω πατέρες!
Αρχαιοελληνική γραμματική. Κι αν δυσκολεύτηκα στο Γυμνάσιο να προσθέσω και πέμπτη πτώση στο λεξιλόγιο μου, φαντάσου τώρα να έχεις να διαχειριστείς δεκαπέντε πτώσεις στην καθημερινότητά σου. Η άχρηστη πληροφορία του βιβλίου: η φινλανδική γλώσσα έχει δεκαπέντε πτώσεις. Αυτός και μόνο ο λόγος αρκεί για να μην περάσω ούτε έξω από πόρτα φροντιστηρίου φινλανδικών.
Συνιστώ ψυχραιμία αδέλφια! Δεν πρόκειται για εγχειρίδιο γραμματικής ή συντακτικού. Πρόκειται για ένα βαθύ αντιπολεμικό βιβλίο που πραγματεύεται φιλοσοφικά και υπαρξιακά ζητήματα όπως η απώλεια μνήμης, το παρελθόν και το παρόν, η έννοια της πατρίδας, το συλλογικό γίγνεσθαι, οι εθνικοί μύθοι και η παντοδυναμία μιας γλώσσας.
Η υπόθεση είναι μεγαλειώδης στην απλότητά της. Εν μέσω Δευτέρου Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, ο φινλανδικής καταγωγής Γερμανός γιατρός Πέτρι Φρίαρι, βρίσκεται αμανάτι μ’έναν ‘ασθενή – φάντασμα’. Έναν ασθενή βαριά τραυματισμένο στο κεφάλι που όταν ανακτά τις αισθήσεις του, όχι απλώς έχει αμνησία, αλλά έχει ξεχάσει ακόμα και τη μητρική του γλώσσα. Μόνο ένα όνομα στο αμπέχονό του, Σάμπο Κάργιαλαϊνεν (φτου σκουληκομυρμηγκότρυπα!) μαρτυρά κάτι από την ταυτότητά του. Το παιδικό τραύμα του γιατρού που ακόμα αιμορραγεί, τον οδηγεί στο συμπέρασμα πως ο ασθενής του είναι Φινλανδός. Γιατί; Γιατί κατά βάθος έτσι γουστάρει. Τον στέλνει σούμπιτο λοιπόν στη Φινλανδία, όχι με συνταγές για φάρμακα αλλά με συμβουλές γραμματικής. Πιστεύει πως εάν ξαναμάθει με πάθος τη μητρική του φινλανδική γλώσσα, ο Σάμπο θα ανακτήσει τη χαμένη του μνήμη. Απρόσμενος δάσκαλος, ένας λουθηρανός στρατιωτικός ιερέας, ο Κοσκόλα και μια μικρή νότα στο μελαγχολικό σκοτάδι, η Ίλμα, η ερωτευμένη νοσοκόμα.
Δεν είναι από τα βιβλία που διαβάζεις μονορούφι. Ούτε είναι από τα βιβλία που αγωνιάς για το τι θα γίνει παρακάτω. Ίσα – ίσα ο γιατρός Φρίαρι από τις πρώτες σελίδες του βιβλίου μας προετοιμάζει πως ο ήρωας μας δεν είχε και τόσο καλό τέλος. Μην περιμένετε να σας πω και το τέλος του. Είπαμε πως είμαι spoiler skorofido αλλά και τα spoiler έχουν τα όρια τους. Είναι ένα βιβλίο ας το πούμε ημερολογιακόν (οι σημειώσεις του Σάμπο) που διακόπτεται από κάποιες μεταγενέστερες σκέψεις του ιατρού και με εμβόλιμες μια – δυο επιστολές της νοσοκόμας. Ένα βιβλίο στο οποίο κυριαρχεί μια βαριά μελαγχολική ατμόσφαιρα που αισθάνεσαι να περπατάς στις λάσπες του ανοιξιάτικου Ελσίνκι ή μια μούχλα που μπουκώνει τα ρουθούνια σου από το σκευοφυλάκιο της εκκλησίας.
Οι γνώσεις του συγγραφέα πάνω στην επιστήμη της γλώσσας είναι εμφανέστατες και προσωπικώς τις λάτρεψα. Είναι η γλώσσα που επηρεάζει τις σκέψεις μας, είναι η γλώσσα που μας διαμορφώνει, είναι η γλώσσα που δημιουργεί την ταυτότητά μας; (Πως τα λέω το άτιμο σήμερα!)
Ένα αποσπασματάκι από τα πολλά περί γλώσσας…
«Αντέγραψα τα λόγια του Porilaisten marssi σχεδόν χωρίς να τα καταλαβαίνω, σαν να ήταν η μυστική συνταγή κάποιου μαγικού φίλτρου, και γι’αυτό μου φάνηκαν ακόμα πιο γοητευτικά. Από όλες τις λέξεις που είχα αποτυπώσει με το μολύβι στο τετράδιο, αναρωτιόμουν ποιες ήταν αυτές που λίγο πριν είχαν κάνει τους στρατιώτες να κλάψουν. Το ότι ήταν πολεμικές λέξεις ήταν ολοφάνερο. Υπήρχαν κάτι μεγάλες, γεμάτες απανωτά φωνήεντα, με τα διαλυτικά για κράνος και το h σαν τελαμώνα περασμένη χιαστί. Άλλες, πολύ σύντομες, ακρωτηριασμένες από αποστρόφους, κουνούσαν τα κολοβωμένα τους μέλη στην άδεια γραμμή. Μερικά κεφαλαία γράμματα υποδήλωναν τόπους διάσημων μαχών που δεν τους ήξερα. Αναγνώρισα τη λέξη που υποδηλώνει τη σημαία, κι ήταν αλήθεια πως ανέμιζε πλαταγίζοντας ανάμεσα στα χείλη.»
… κι επειδή το Porilaisten marssi, κλασικό πολεμικό φινλανδικό εμβατήριο, στα αυτιά του Σάμπο ακούγεται ως ερωτικό θαρρείς κάλεσμα, το έψαξα, το βρήκα και σας το χαρίζω.
Στα μείον, οι εκτενείς σε κάποια σημεία αναφορές στη φινλανδική μυθολογία και στο δικό τους «ομηρικό έπος». Εκεί με τον Βάιναμοϊνεν και τον Βίπουνεν και την παρθένα της Πόχγιολα, το έχασα εντελώς, αλλά χαλάλι…
Ένα επιπλέον «συν» η ιστορική σύγκριση φινλανδικού λουθηρανισμού και ελληνικής ορθοδοξίας… το λες και μίνι θεολογικό μανιφέστο…
Το λάτρεψα αυτό το βιβλίο, αν και φαντάζομαι πως σε πολλούς θα πέσει βαρύ στο στομάχι…
8,5/10 με όλη μου την αγάπη
http://skorofido.blogspot.gr/2016/07/...
January 13, 2017
More like a 2.5 ... the prose (even in translation) is very good, but the plot (and plodding climax) never lives up to the intriguing premise. Mainly I was bored and should have abandoned this early on, as I was sorely tempted to do. Might have worked much better as a short story than a bloated 187 pages.
June 22, 2012
~~~ Since language is our mother, try and find yourself a woman ~~~
THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS, READ THE BOOK FIRST!
It was on the flight during my first visit to Finland that I had first brush with Finnish, thanks to the announcements in Finn Air. Now what was that? The words that had just been spoken.. some were so long drawn out, some expressed in such a sing-song way, it was amusing to listen to them. Now, more than a year later, and having practiced some basic Finnish phrases, these lines in the novel 'New Finnish Grammar' strike a chord: "Foreigners listening to a Finn speaking have the sense that something is flying out of his mouth; the words fan out and lightly close in again; they hover in the air and then dissolve. It is pointless to try and capture them for their meaning is in their flight, it is this that you must catch using your eyes and ears. Hands are no help. This is one of the loveliest things about the Finnish language."
The story is about a person who has lost his memory at a time when the world is in the throes of WWII. Doctor Friari, a neurologist of Finnish origin nurses the patient back to health. Seeing that the patient's tag identifies him as Sampo Karjalainen, an obviously Finnish name, the doctor teaches him Finnish. However, Sampo's past and his links with his family remain untraceable. Thinking that Sampo's best chance in finding his roots lie in staying in Helsinki, Dr Friari sends him to the city. At Helsinki, Dr Friari's note helps Sampo find lodgings and food, but learning the Finnish language (for, as Dr Friari tells him, that knowing the language is a prerequisite to his getting ahead in life) and uncovering his past remain a daunting task which he must accomplish.
At Helsinki, Sampo meets Koskela, a priest, who undertakes to teach Sampo Finnish. Often during Sampo's lessons with Koskela, there are excursions to the land of Kalevala, the Finnish national epic. One story is about Kullervo, born to a mother who has been brutally held captive. Kullervo is bred on hatred, so that when he becomes physically strong, he uproots all that crosses his path, but it bring him no happiness. Indeed, his mother fears that his hatred will consume him and that is what happens. After wreaking havoc in the camp of his mother's captors, Kullervo return only to bring misery to his own family.
I couldn't help comparing that with the story from the Hindu epic of Mahabharata... of Kansa, the son of a god who is born with divine strength but who is brought up by a poor low-caste family. Early in his childhood, Kansa faces discrimination because of his low-caste ancestry. Suffering humiliation at the hands of high-caste princes embitters Kansa so much that when a prince openly admire him for his talents, he pledges his support to that prince, though it later leads him down a false path. But here the home background is different. As a child, Kansa is cared lovingly by his foster parents, so that he in turn becomes a wellspring of kindness. The stories of Kullervo and Kansa seemed to me to complement each other in a superb way.
There is no child in 'New Finnnish Grammar' but Marani skillfully weaves you in the web of the Kalevala so that the lessons that Koskela has for Sampo are your own lessons too. Not for nothing does Koskela say that "children who are cradled without gentleness, raised uncaringly, dragged up harshly, will not become intelligent, will never have the gift of wisdom, will never become men, even should they grow up strong and healthy and live for a hundred years."
Sampo's hunt for tracking his family give us a peek into Helsinki as it was in the early 1940s -- war ravaged and grieving. Doctor Friari's recollections of his times in the city parallels Sampo's tale, and there we get a glimpse of the destruction that Civil War brought to Finland.
The novel's translation in English by Judith Landry seems to be beautifully done. (I say that even though I have not read the original Italian work.)
Of the three persons (the other two friends in Sampo's life are Doctor Friari and Koskela) with whom Sampo spends time to develop a friendship, the one with Ilma (a nurse in the hospital that Sampo lives) is the shortest: only one evening's meeting to really speak of. And yet, it is this meeting that should lead to something that keeps you going. Ilma has understood Sampo for what he is and wants to start a journey together. When Sampo says "let's sing all night" and Ilma joins, a spark is ignited. And when Ilma takes him to her tree of happy memories, you can't but get a feeling that the two are coursing down an evergreen road.
It is in discussion with Ilma again (or rather in the course of Sampo's reading of her letters) that the importance of a past comes up. Sampo had earlier declared it his purpose of hoping to recover some fragments of his past; Ilma says she is content to live a life free of the "ballast of memory". Are these divergent views then? I would think Sampo's obsession about trying to find his past goes beyond just satisfying his curiosity of discovering it. The past is also his link to find out what were his talents and skills, for without them how can he pride himself to be a man? It is then a nod to his self-esteem that he goes about his identity search till the point that he finds it a futile exercise.
And, again, it is Ilma's letters that make your heart heavy. That a soul could place so much trust and confidence in a new friend by just one evening's meeting speaks of Sampo's quiet charm and poise. You wish you could go back in time, and push Sampo to reply. Well, I don't know about you, but I would.
THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS, READ THE BOOK FIRST!
It was on the flight during my first visit to Finland that I had first brush with Finnish, thanks to the announcements in Finn Air. Now what was that? The words that had just been spoken.. some were so long drawn out, some expressed in such a sing-song way, it was amusing to listen to them. Now, more than a year later, and having practiced some basic Finnish phrases, these lines in the novel 'New Finnish Grammar' strike a chord: "Foreigners listening to a Finn speaking have the sense that something is flying out of his mouth; the words fan out and lightly close in again; they hover in the air and then dissolve. It is pointless to try and capture them for their meaning is in their flight, it is this that you must catch using your eyes and ears. Hands are no help. This is one of the loveliest things about the Finnish language."
The story is about a person who has lost his memory at a time when the world is in the throes of WWII. Doctor Friari, a neurologist of Finnish origin nurses the patient back to health. Seeing that the patient's tag identifies him as Sampo Karjalainen, an obviously Finnish name, the doctor teaches him Finnish. However, Sampo's past and his links with his family remain untraceable. Thinking that Sampo's best chance in finding his roots lie in staying in Helsinki, Dr Friari sends him to the city. At Helsinki, Dr Friari's note helps Sampo find lodgings and food, but learning the Finnish language (for, as Dr Friari tells him, that knowing the language is a prerequisite to his getting ahead in life) and uncovering his past remain a daunting task which he must accomplish.
At Helsinki, Sampo meets Koskela, a priest, who undertakes to teach Sampo Finnish. Often during Sampo's lessons with Koskela, there are excursions to the land of Kalevala, the Finnish national epic. One story is about Kullervo, born to a mother who has been brutally held captive. Kullervo is bred on hatred, so that when he becomes physically strong, he uproots all that crosses his path, but it bring him no happiness. Indeed, his mother fears that his hatred will consume him and that is what happens. After wreaking havoc in the camp of his mother's captors, Kullervo return only to bring misery to his own family.
I couldn't help comparing that with the story from the Hindu epic of Mahabharata... of Kansa, the son of a god who is born with divine strength but who is brought up by a poor low-caste family. Early in his childhood, Kansa faces discrimination because of his low-caste ancestry. Suffering humiliation at the hands of high-caste princes embitters Kansa so much that when a prince openly admire him for his talents, he pledges his support to that prince, though it later leads him down a false path. But here the home background is different. As a child, Kansa is cared lovingly by his foster parents, so that he in turn becomes a wellspring of kindness. The stories of Kullervo and Kansa seemed to me to complement each other in a superb way.
There is no child in 'New Finnnish Grammar' but Marani skillfully weaves you in the web of the Kalevala so that the lessons that Koskela has for Sampo are your own lessons too. Not for nothing does Koskela say that "children who are cradled without gentleness, raised uncaringly, dragged up harshly, will not become intelligent, will never have the gift of wisdom, will never become men, even should they grow up strong and healthy and live for a hundred years."
Sampo's hunt for tracking his family give us a peek into Helsinki as it was in the early 1940s -- war ravaged and grieving. Doctor Friari's recollections of his times in the city parallels Sampo's tale, and there we get a glimpse of the destruction that Civil War brought to Finland.
The novel's translation in English by Judith Landry seems to be beautifully done. (I say that even though I have not read the original Italian work.)
Of the three persons (the other two friends in Sampo's life are Doctor Friari and Koskela) with whom Sampo spends time to develop a friendship, the one with Ilma (a nurse in the hospital that Sampo lives) is the shortest: only one evening's meeting to really speak of. And yet, it is this meeting that should lead to something that keeps you going. Ilma has understood Sampo for what he is and wants to start a journey together. When Sampo says "let's sing all night" and Ilma joins, a spark is ignited. And when Ilma takes him to her tree of happy memories, you can't but get a feeling that the two are coursing down an evergreen road.
It is in discussion with Ilma again (or rather in the course of Sampo's reading of her letters) that the importance of a past comes up. Sampo had earlier declared it his purpose of hoping to recover some fragments of his past; Ilma says she is content to live a life free of the "ballast of memory". Are these divergent views then? I would think Sampo's obsession about trying to find his past goes beyond just satisfying his curiosity of discovering it. The past is also his link to find out what were his talents and skills, for without them how can he pride himself to be a man? It is then a nod to his self-esteem that he goes about his identity search till the point that he finds it a futile exercise.
And, again, it is Ilma's letters that make your heart heavy. That a soul could place so much trust and confidence in a new friend by just one evening's meeting speaks of Sampo's quiet charm and poise. You wish you could go back in time, and push Sampo to reply. Well, I don't know about you, but I would.
April 22, 2012
It’s taken far too long for this seductive book to be translated into English, and I’m not surprised that it has been shortlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize almost as soon as it hit the shelves in the English-speaking world. (What other treasures lie in store for us, I wonder, now that at last readers can source the kind of books they like from everywhere, not just limited to what local booksellers think they might like? Publishers are starting to realise that there is a world-wide market for books in translation at last!)
Diego Marani is an Italian Eurocrat, apparently one with a sense of humour. To divert himself from his work as a linguist for the EU in Brussels, he spoofs current affairs for a Swiss newspaper using his own invented language called Europanto. He is the author of six novels, but according to Stu at Winston’s Dad, New Finnish Grammar is the only one to be translated into English. Let’s hope we see more of them soon.
New Finnish Grammar is the story of a man’s search for identity. Not the navel-gazing, coming-of-age or getting-older kind of identity that in my opinion tends to preoccupy too many authors at the expense of more significant issues, but an actual identity. He doesn’t know who he is, and in the turmoil of war, neither does anyone else.
It so happens that he is found on the quay in Trieste, with near-critical head injuries, in September 1943. The date is significant because this is when Mainland Italy was invaded by the Allies under Montgomery and the Italians signed an Armistice. Although Italy was then no longer a belligerent in the war, the Germans still occupied Trieste in the northeast near the border with Slovenia, and that is how a neurologist from Hamburg happens to be working there. (The Germans also continued to occupy other places in Italy, as all those of us who’ve read Captain Corelli’s Mandolin will remember).
To read the rest of my review, please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2012/04/22/ne...
Diego Marani is an Italian Eurocrat, apparently one with a sense of humour. To divert himself from his work as a linguist for the EU in Brussels, he spoofs current affairs for a Swiss newspaper using his own invented language called Europanto. He is the author of six novels, but according to Stu at Winston’s Dad, New Finnish Grammar is the only one to be translated into English. Let’s hope we see more of them soon.
New Finnish Grammar is the story of a man’s search for identity. Not the navel-gazing, coming-of-age or getting-older kind of identity that in my opinion tends to preoccupy too many authors at the expense of more significant issues, but an actual identity. He doesn’t know who he is, and in the turmoil of war, neither does anyone else.
It so happens that he is found on the quay in Trieste, with near-critical head injuries, in September 1943. The date is significant because this is when Mainland Italy was invaded by the Allies under Montgomery and the Italians signed an Armistice. Although Italy was then no longer a belligerent in the war, the Germans still occupied Trieste in the northeast near the border with Slovenia, and that is how a neurologist from Hamburg happens to be working there. (The Germans also continued to occupy other places in Italy, as all those of us who’ve read Captain Corelli’s Mandolin will remember).
To read the rest of my review, please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2012/04/22/ne...
March 22, 2012
oh, look. here's a letter from that pretty nurse I met recently in wartime Helsinki after losing my memory:
'Do you remember my tree in Kaivopusto Park? There are many ways of seeing it: you can regard it as a network of lymph vessels, of veins, of roots teeming with sap, linked up to a living nucleus which, through the breathing leaves, establishes and maintains a flow of matter between earth and sky, between inert matter and air. But you can also reduce it to a pure number, make it into a law of chemistry which governs the way things decompose and are transformed. In both cases, different though they are, that tree will still be something outside ourselves, something we are observing, something we know, perhaps, but with which we do not have any relationship. Establishing a relationship, that's what we're talking about: agreeing to move towards the other without taking possession of them, without making them conform to what we expect of them. That's what I'd like to do with you.'
er... no thanks, love.
'Do you remember my tree in Kaivopusto Park? There are many ways of seeing it: you can regard it as a network of lymph vessels, of veins, of roots teeming with sap, linked up to a living nucleus which, through the breathing leaves, establishes and maintains a flow of matter between earth and sky, between inert matter and air. But you can also reduce it to a pure number, make it into a law of chemistry which governs the way things decompose and are transformed. In both cases, different though they are, that tree will still be something outside ourselves, something we are observing, something we know, perhaps, but with which we do not have any relationship. Establishing a relationship, that's what we're talking about: agreeing to move towards the other without taking possession of them, without making them conform to what we expect of them. That's what I'd like to do with you.'
er... no thanks, love.
January 20, 2016
Feb 2014.
[4.5] A powerful little book (under 200 pages), intelligent, emotional and contemplative all at once in a very Continental way, that would have been best read in a few long sittings rather than in countless snippets between watching Olympic events on TV or whilst half asleep.
I've had this for about three years, vacillating: although I very much wanted to read another book about Finland, would an Italian author really give anywhere near so true a sense of the country as a local would?
Like Lolita, New Finnish Grammar begins with a professional's "introduction" outlining the protagonist's fate, so none of the following is as spoilery as it may sound. A man is found unconscious and badly beaten in Trieste in 1943, wearing a Finnish naval jacket name-tagged Sampo Karjaleinen. He is taken aboard a German hospital ship, where he is found to have amnesia and to be speechless, and is attentively cared for by a doctor, himself originally a Finn and who begins to (re)teach the man their presumed shared language before sending him (back) to Finland. There he is taken under the wing of a military chaplain with shamanic sympathies, who teaches him Finnish and folklore. The man's real name was Massimiliano Brodar; perhaps this is a reference to Kafka's friend and literary executor Max Brod, except that the role is reversed. Brod didn't follow Kafka's instructions, and here - although the doctor has already, with the very best of intentions, messed with Karjaleinen / Brodar's words and realises his terrible mistake - Brodar's papers are re-written as the novel to make them coherent and expressive.
You don't have to have read the Kalevala, have a certain amount of fascination with the linguistics of the stranger European languages and with Finland to read this... but it helps. (And in order to understand the opening scenes of rather a good film The Cuckoo set in Finland at the same time, I'd already read about the complicated Continuation War involving Finns, Russians and Germans.) In New Finnish Grammar there is quite a bit of conversation about the Finnish national epic, where the stories are well explained - an amnesiac is being told about it after all - but, not knowing it was there, I was really happy to have timed reading New Finnish Grammar less than a year after the poem. The ideas about its characters here were mostly a close match for those in the OUP introduction to the Kalevala and what I'd got from reading it; sometimes they were more beautifully expressed than in the translated epic. When I was a kid / teenager, I loved reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica articles about the history of languages. (Furthering this interest never really got off the ground because rather like visitors being the best incentive to expend limited energy and focus on tidying, I need the motivation of foreign travel for serious language learning post-school, and my health has been too poor... If a magic wand were waved and I was made perfectly healthy, travel, language learning, sports, restaurants and music lessons would crowd my spare hours to make up for lost time.) I was always most fascinated to read about non-Romance, non-Teutonic languages, and the languages of Northern and Eastern Europe, unusual ones like the Finno-Ugric family or obscure extinct ones like Tocharian. This blurred with an interest in the social and religious history of pre-Christian times in those bits of Europe which weren't in the well-known mythologies (Classical or Norse). And on reflection, I'm not sure I've seen anyone actually put that semi-mystical sense of ancient-ness and such fine detail about language in one place quite like this before - it felt perfectly natural to me as I'd sort of always seen it that way. This book could perhaps be less enjoyable if you don't joyfully geek out at the mention of types of noun case and verb forms which don't exist in English, wondering how different the world might be understood through Finnish.
- The sounds of our language were around us, in nature, in the woods, in the pull of the sea, in the call of the wild, in the sound of the falling snow. All we did was to bend them to our needs.
- If we have two distinct words for east in Finnish, it is so as to avoid having to use the same word both for dawn, and for the direction from which the Slav invasions come.
- The Finn does not like the idea of a subject carrying out an action; no one in this world carries out anything; rather everything comes about of its own accord, because it must, and we are just one of the many things that might have come about. In the Finnish sentence the words are grouped around the verb like moons around a planet, and whichever one is nearest to the verb becomes the subject. In European languages the sentence is a straight line; in Finnish it is a circle, within which something happens.
All presented as the idiosyncratic musings of one man, and wouldn't necessarily stand up to scientific dissection, but if you have sympathy with this sort of thing, it is lovely.
What do Finnish people think of all this? That was what counted. Using a lazy search for diego marani suomi, I found a few articles to stick in Google Translate. (The most useful ones are here and here.) It sounds as though Marani has got the essence of the place right, though small details about how people regard historical figures (Mannerheim) could be questioned and there are some inaccuracies in actual Finnish phrases. The second piece says that the characters' voices are not sufficiently differentiated - this was the same in the English translation and was most noticeable in a set of directly quoted letters in the penultimate chapter. The doctor / "editor"'s own style could have made everything else sound similar - but not, plausibly, those.
Perhaps obviously from the plot, New Finnish Grammar is also a meditation on memory (specifically factual / intellectual recall from before his injury - Karjaleinen does not suffer from two of the other most distressing aspects of memory problems: his basic civilised social conduct is unaffected, and he is able to lay down new memories without difficulty) - and on how essential nationality and language are to a person's sense of identity. (Because I read the book in such a fragmented way, and because memory is a frequent subject in literary fiction - though rarely written about in such a lovely way - I sometimes found it a tad repetitive in the middle.) These reflections were always beautifully expressed; earlier in the book I understood what was meant whilst wanting to quibble, then later the characters arrived at similar conclusions.
New Finnish Grammar is a beautiful and romantic account of terrible things; whilst it's not fantasy you couldn't quite call it realistic. In the more specific sense of romantic love, the narrative's attitude seems very Italian (or French), like nothing Nordic I've ever read.
Background knowledge did help, but given that I acquired most of that from reading easily accessible general encyclopaedias (old ones or Wiki), and that the novel explains things quite well, it's not really that obscure, or essential to enjoying the Marani's book.
In the past week or two I've been looking bookwise mostly at recent European fiction, and suddenly there are quotes from Nick Lezard everywhere (on this book, plenty of those I've been browsing, and some others I've had for a while and haven't read). I've rarely read his column ... presumably this is the sort of stuff he specialises in.
[4.5] A powerful little book (under 200 pages), intelligent, emotional and contemplative all at once in a very Continental way, that would have been best read in a few long sittings rather than in countless snippets between watching Olympic events on TV or whilst half asleep.
I've had this for about three years, vacillating: although I very much wanted to read another book about Finland, would an Italian author really give anywhere near so true a sense of the country as a local would?
Like Lolita, New Finnish Grammar begins with a professional's "introduction" outlining the protagonist's fate, so none of the following is as spoilery as it may sound. A man is found unconscious and badly beaten in Trieste in 1943, wearing a Finnish naval jacket name-tagged Sampo Karjaleinen. He is taken aboard a German hospital ship, where he is found to have amnesia and to be speechless, and is attentively cared for by a doctor, himself originally a Finn and who begins to (re)teach the man their presumed shared language before sending him (back) to Finland. There he is taken under the wing of a military chaplain with shamanic sympathies, who teaches him Finnish and folklore. The man's real name was Massimiliano Brodar; perhaps this is a reference to Kafka's friend and literary executor Max Brod, except that the role is reversed. Brod didn't follow Kafka's instructions, and here - although the doctor has already, with the very best of intentions, messed with Karjaleinen / Brodar's words and realises his terrible mistake - Brodar's papers are re-written as the novel to make them coherent and expressive.
You don't have to have read the Kalevala, have a certain amount of fascination with the linguistics of the stranger European languages and with Finland to read this... but it helps. (And in order to understand the opening scenes of rather a good film The Cuckoo set in Finland at the same time, I'd already read about the complicated Continuation War involving Finns, Russians and Germans.) In New Finnish Grammar there is quite a bit of conversation about the Finnish national epic, where the stories are well explained - an amnesiac is being told about it after all - but, not knowing it was there, I was really happy to have timed reading New Finnish Grammar less than a year after the poem. The ideas about its characters here were mostly a close match for those in the OUP introduction to the Kalevala and what I'd got from reading it; sometimes they were more beautifully expressed than in the translated epic. When I was a kid / teenager, I loved reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica articles about the history of languages. (Furthering this interest never really got off the ground because rather like visitors being the best incentive to expend limited energy and focus on tidying, I need the motivation of foreign travel for serious language learning post-school, and my health has been too poor... If a magic wand were waved and I was made perfectly healthy, travel, language learning, sports, restaurants and music lessons would crowd my spare hours to make up for lost time.) I was always most fascinated to read about non-Romance, non-Teutonic languages, and the languages of Northern and Eastern Europe, unusual ones like the Finno-Ugric family or obscure extinct ones like Tocharian. This blurred with an interest in the social and religious history of pre-Christian times in those bits of Europe which weren't in the well-known mythologies (Classical or Norse). And on reflection, I'm not sure I've seen anyone actually put that semi-mystical sense of ancient-ness and such fine detail about language in one place quite like this before - it felt perfectly natural to me as I'd sort of always seen it that way. This book could perhaps be less enjoyable if you don't joyfully geek out at the mention of types of noun case and verb forms which don't exist in English, wondering how different the world might be understood through Finnish.
- The sounds of our language were around us, in nature, in the woods, in the pull of the sea, in the call of the wild, in the sound of the falling snow. All we did was to bend them to our needs.
- If we have two distinct words for east in Finnish, it is so as to avoid having to use the same word both for dawn, and for the direction from which the Slav invasions come.
- The Finn does not like the idea of a subject carrying out an action; no one in this world carries out anything; rather everything comes about of its own accord, because it must, and we are just one of the many things that might have come about. In the Finnish sentence the words are grouped around the verb like moons around a planet, and whichever one is nearest to the verb becomes the subject. In European languages the sentence is a straight line; in Finnish it is a circle, within which something happens.
All presented as the idiosyncratic musings of one man, and wouldn't necessarily stand up to scientific dissection, but if you have sympathy with this sort of thing, it is lovely.
What do Finnish people think of all this? That was what counted. Using a lazy search for diego marani suomi, I found a few articles to stick in Google Translate. (The most useful ones are here and here.) It sounds as though Marani has got the essence of the place right, though small details about how people regard historical figures (Mannerheim) could be questioned and there are some inaccuracies in actual Finnish phrases. The second piece says that the characters' voices are not sufficiently differentiated - this was the same in the English translation and was most noticeable in a set of directly quoted letters in the penultimate chapter. The doctor / "editor"'s own style could have made everything else sound similar - but not, plausibly, those.
Perhaps obviously from the plot, New Finnish Grammar is also a meditation on memory (specifically factual / intellectual recall from before his injury - Karjaleinen does not suffer from two of the other most distressing aspects of memory problems: his basic civilised social conduct is unaffected, and he is able to lay down new memories without difficulty) - and on how essential nationality and language are to a person's sense of identity. (Because I read the book in such a fragmented way, and because memory is a frequent subject in literary fiction - though rarely written about in such a lovely way - I sometimes found it a tad repetitive in the middle.) These reflections were always beautifully expressed; earlier in the book I understood what was meant whilst wanting to quibble, then later the characters arrived at similar conclusions.
New Finnish Grammar is a beautiful and romantic account of terrible things; whilst it's not fantasy you couldn't quite call it realistic. In the more specific sense of romantic love, the narrative's attitude seems very Italian (or French), like nothing Nordic I've ever read.
Background knowledge did help, but given that I acquired most of that from reading easily accessible general encyclopaedias (old ones or Wiki), and that the novel explains things quite well, it's not really that obscure, or essential to enjoying the Marani's book.
In the past week or two I've been looking bookwise mostly at recent European fiction, and suddenly there are quotes from Nick Lezard everywhere (on this book, plenty of those I've been browsing, and some others I've had for a while and haven't read). I've rarely read his column ... presumably this is the sort of stuff he specialises in.
February 14, 2015
A few years ago I got into a rather intense discussion along the lines of whether there is any association between the currency used by a country and their population's feeling of national pride and identity. It was prompted by comments from someone in the British government who was arguing vehemently in favour of Britain keeping the pound sterling as its national currency. Part of the politician's argument seemed to be that if Britain adopted the Euro, like other members of the European Community, it would lose a critical element of what makes Britain special. It was an argument that held no merit for my three dinner companions, all of whom came from countries which had already 'lost' the peseta and the franc in favour of the Euro.
NewFinnishGrammarIf currency doesn't define a person's identity and affiliation to a country, what about language? New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani suggests that without our language, we have no roots and no memory. Don't be misled by the title, this isn't a turgid academic study about a fringe language, but an intelligently written novel by a linguist working for the European Community.
The story is quite a simple one. It begins with the discovery of a badly-beaten man on a quayside in Trieste during World War 2. Though he recovers consciousness he has no memory and no language and nothing to identify himself except for the name tag of "SAMPO KARJALAINEN" sewn inside the seaman's jacket which suggests he is of Finnish origin. A passing military doctor Petri Friari, resolves to re-aquaint the mystery man with the language of his homeland as a way of restoring his memory and rebuilding his life. Petri tells his patient:
The merest breath is enough if there is still any fire at all beneath the ashes…. You will have to work hard. Finnish is the language in which you were brought up, the language of the lullaby that sent you to sleep each night. Apart from studying it you must learn to love it. think of each word as though it was a magic charm which might open a door to memory. Say each word aloud as though it were a prayer…
Sampo recovers sufficiently to be repatriated to a hospital in his supposed home in Helsinki. There with the aid of another doctor, a pastor who believes in the restorative power of Finnish myths and legends and a Red Cross nurse, he tries to find himself once again. It's not an easy task. Finnish apparently is a fiendishly difficult language "thorny but delicate."
...the Finnish sentence is like a cocoon, impenetrable, closed in on itself; here meaning ripens slowly and when, when ripe flies off, bright and elusive ... whin foreigners listen to a Finn speaking they always have the sense that something is flying out of his moth, the words fan out and lightly close in again; they hover in the air and then dissolve. It is pointless to try and capture them, because their meaning is in their flight…
Sampo meets the challenge head on, diligently applying himself to his lessons everyday but though his vocabulary and understanding improves, his knowledge of his identity remains elusive.
I had a distinct suspicion that I was running headlong down the wrong road. In the innermost recesses of my unconscious I was plagued by the feeling that, within my brain, another brain was beating, buried alive.
This is a novel about alienation, about isolation, how we relate to our pasts, to our cultural traditions and to our mother tongue. It has an overwhelming sense of sadness, the feeling that no matter how much we try, it's impossible to find the way back. It's a book that makes you think and to appreciate the value of the language we heard from our first moments on earth and that we use every day without giving it a second thought.
A wonderful novel, that was considered a masterpiece when it was published in Marani's native Italian. It's taken more than 10 years to become available in English but well worth the wait.
NewFinnishGrammarIf currency doesn't define a person's identity and affiliation to a country, what about language? New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani suggests that without our language, we have no roots and no memory. Don't be misled by the title, this isn't a turgid academic study about a fringe language, but an intelligently written novel by a linguist working for the European Community.
The story is quite a simple one. It begins with the discovery of a badly-beaten man on a quayside in Trieste during World War 2. Though he recovers consciousness he has no memory and no language and nothing to identify himself except for the name tag of "SAMPO KARJALAINEN" sewn inside the seaman's jacket which suggests he is of Finnish origin. A passing military doctor Petri Friari, resolves to re-aquaint the mystery man with the language of his homeland as a way of restoring his memory and rebuilding his life. Petri tells his patient:
The merest breath is enough if there is still any fire at all beneath the ashes…. You will have to work hard. Finnish is the language in which you were brought up, the language of the lullaby that sent you to sleep each night. Apart from studying it you must learn to love it. think of each word as though it was a magic charm which might open a door to memory. Say each word aloud as though it were a prayer…
Sampo recovers sufficiently to be repatriated to a hospital in his supposed home in Helsinki. There with the aid of another doctor, a pastor who believes in the restorative power of Finnish myths and legends and a Red Cross nurse, he tries to find himself once again. It's not an easy task. Finnish apparently is a fiendishly difficult language "thorny but delicate."
...the Finnish sentence is like a cocoon, impenetrable, closed in on itself; here meaning ripens slowly and when, when ripe flies off, bright and elusive ... whin foreigners listen to a Finn speaking they always have the sense that something is flying out of his moth, the words fan out and lightly close in again; they hover in the air and then dissolve. It is pointless to try and capture them, because their meaning is in their flight…
Sampo meets the challenge head on, diligently applying himself to his lessons everyday but though his vocabulary and understanding improves, his knowledge of his identity remains elusive.
I had a distinct suspicion that I was running headlong down the wrong road. In the innermost recesses of my unconscious I was plagued by the feeling that, within my brain, another brain was beating, buried alive.
This is a novel about alienation, about isolation, how we relate to our pasts, to our cultural traditions and to our mother tongue. It has an overwhelming sense of sadness, the feeling that no matter how much we try, it's impossible to find the way back. It's a book that makes you think and to appreciate the value of the language we heard from our first moments on earth and that we use every day without giving it a second thought.
A wonderful novel, that was considered a masterpiece when it was published in Marani's native Italian. It's taken more than 10 years to become available in English but well worth the wait.
March 18, 2012
I recently finished a Booker Award finalist, Snowdrops by A. D. Miller. On the surface these two novels would seem to have little in common (other than they both take place in snowy regions), but in fact they're similar in that they both are most of all about place: Finland in this case; Moscow in Miller's novel. Place (as well as the Finnish language in this novel) is the central character and any story line is secondary to the place(s) described. Miller's novel has more narrative pull than this one, but it's not necessarily the better novel. This one is more original. That said, I needed more story line, more narrative drive; I wanted to be caught up in the novel more than I was.
May 29, 2016
Βάζω 3 όχι γιατί δεν είναι ένα πολύ καλό βιβλίο αλλά γιατί δεν με ενθουσίασε.
Η υπόθεση είναι προβλέψιμη-στις πρώτες 50 σελίδες κατάλαβα περίπου τι πρόκειται να γίνει.
Οι πολύ καλές στιγμές του βιβλίου είναι εκεί που ώρες ώρες γίνεται ένα θαυμάσιο λυρικό ποίημα πάνω στην Φινλανδική γλώσσα. Στα πολύ καλά του βάζω επίσης αυτή την αίσθηση ασφυξίας, ησυχίας, μοναξιάς και μελαγχολίας που κυριαρχεί σε όλο το βιβλίο.
Με κούρασαν τα κομμάτια της μυθολογίας-δεν έφταιγαν αυτά αλλά το δικό μου γούστο που βαριέται τους μύθους.
Γενικά: Ιδιαίτερο βιβλίο, πρωτότυπο. Θα γινόταν και καλή ταινία-σαν να βλέπω ήδη εικόνες της μπροστά μου.
Δεν θα το σύστηνα εύκολα.
* Το βιβλίο μου έφερε πολύ έντονα στο νου την ταινία Η μυστική ζωή των λέξεων
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sec...
Η υπόθεση είναι προβλέψιμη-στις πρώτες 50 σελίδες κατάλαβα περίπου τι πρόκειται να γίνει.
Οι πολύ καλές στιγμές του βιβλίου είναι εκεί που ώρες ώρες γίνεται ένα θαυμάσιο λυρικό ποίημα πάνω στην Φινλανδική γλώσσα. Στα πολύ καλά του βάζω επίσης αυτή την αίσθηση ασφυξίας, ησυχίας, μοναξιάς και μελαγχολίας που κυριαρχεί σε όλο το βιβλίο.
Με κούρασαν τα κομμάτια της μυθολογίας-δεν έφταιγαν αυτά αλλά το δικό μου γούστο που βαριέται τους μύθους.
Γενικά: Ιδιαίτερο βιβλίο, πρωτότυπο. Θα γινόταν και καλή ταινία-σαν να βλέπω ήδη εικόνες της μπροστά μου.
Δεν θα το σύστηνα εύκολα.
* Το βιβλίο μου έφερε πολύ έντονα στο νου την ταινία Η μυστική ζωή των λέξεων
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sec...
June 27, 2012
This reads more like a man's desperate attempt to make sense of a language, a culture, and a history behind them that is wholly different from his own, than it reads like a novel about an amnesiac man searching for an identity through a new language.
I appreciated the historical accuracy, but can only hope that the mispelled Finnish words are the translator's fault rather than the original author's. As I said in one of my status updates, it's good for linguistic laughs.
I appreciated the historical accuracy, but can only hope that the mispelled Finnish words are the translator's fault rather than the original author's. As I said in one of my status updates, it's good for linguistic laughs.
October 18, 2012
This was a fast and exiting read, and no knowledge of Finnish was required.
If one ever wondered how language is related to identity, this is a good start to get the thoughts coming. Tragic, yes, but insightful.
If one ever wondered how language is related to identity, this is a good start to get the thoughts coming. Tragic, yes, but insightful.
January 26, 2013
This book had many things to recommend it, but ultimately was not for me, which I'm a little disappointed about because it's the first book I chose for the Translation challenge I'm taking part in and I didn't make it to the end. #fail But anyway, I think life's too short to spend it finishing a book you're not enjoying and this was the case for me here.
On a positive note it is very-well written. There is a precision to the writing, and there were many beautiful descriptions of both landscapes and emotional states.
The central premise - of a man's search for identity, and the connection between identity and language, were interesting ideas. I felt I had a glimpse into what it must feel like to have no history, no past, no sense of who you were or where you came from, and the horrible emptiness of that feeling, and how it leads you to feel as though you have no place in the world - these things were all captured convincingly and movingly. The protagonist is encouraged by well-meaning people to stop searching for his past and embrace the future but the author makes it very easy to relate to why he is unable to do this. His personal experience of feeling lost is both echoed in and compounded by the upheaval in the world around him, caused by the war.
I knew next to nothing about Finnish mythology and language and the book also provided an introduction to these which I found interesting. But half way through, the book seemed to stall. Sampo was in a holding pattern - no closer to discovering his past, but also no closer to building a future, and as a reader I found the stagnant situation became boring. Lacking any development in the plot sense, the book wandered into philosophical questions, including a foray into the different religions of Finland, and I completely lost interest. I found myself skimming, forcing myself to plod on, and eventually admitting that it was not for me.
On a positive note it is very-well written. There is a precision to the writing, and there were many beautiful descriptions of both landscapes and emotional states.
The central premise - of a man's search for identity, and the connection between identity and language, were interesting ideas. I felt I had a glimpse into what it must feel like to have no history, no past, no sense of who you were or where you came from, and the horrible emptiness of that feeling, and how it leads you to feel as though you have no place in the world - these things were all captured convincingly and movingly. The protagonist is encouraged by well-meaning people to stop searching for his past and embrace the future but the author makes it very easy to relate to why he is unable to do this. His personal experience of feeling lost is both echoed in and compounded by the upheaval in the world around him, caused by the war.
I knew next to nothing about Finnish mythology and language and the book also provided an introduction to these which I found interesting. But half way through, the book seemed to stall. Sampo was in a holding pattern - no closer to discovering his past, but also no closer to building a future, and as a reader I found the stagnant situation became boring. Lacking any development in the plot sense, the book wandered into philosophical questions, including a foray into the different religions of Finland, and I completely lost interest. I found myself skimming, forcing myself to plod on, and eventually admitting that it was not for me.
June 12, 2011
An almost-beautiful book — a man who has lost his memory and language is recreated (with the best of intentions) as a Finn and sent back to Helsinki toward the end of World War II. He's sustained by a couple more interesting characters, a Lutheran pastor/shaman and a poetic nurse. The book is suffused with an abstract sense of sadness, darkness, cold and longing. Yet it's more of a tone poem than a novel. The writing is far too fine for a person just learning the language and the emotions too dissociated. Nothing is believable; the ominous sense of foreboding that haunts the tale from its opening pages eventually becomes oppressive and anticlimactic. As much as I wanted to enjoy a story so artfully constructed, only its novelty and occasionally lovely language kept me from being simply bored.
April 19, 2016
Noi siamo la lingua che parliamo? Questo è il tema di questo interessantissimo e insolito romanzo ambientato durante la seconda guerra mondiale, dove un medico cerca di ricostruire quella che lui ritiene essere l'identità di un marinaio gravemente ferito e in preda all'amnesia insegnandogli quella che ritiene essere la sua lingua, il finlandese.
Ma la scintilla del riconoscimento non scatterà, sia perché l'uomo non è finlandese, ma soprattutto perché, quando sarebbe quasi pronto a rinunciare alla ricerca del suo passato, viene a conoscenza dell'equivoco che ha generato il suo falso riconoscimento.
Una dimostrazione di come una trama legata esclusivamente alla linguistica possa generare un romanzo davvero avvincente, e la scelta del finlandese, una delle lingue più complicate e misteriose parlate in Europa, rende ancora più preziosa la vicenda.
Ma la scintilla del riconoscimento non scatterà, sia perché l'uomo non è finlandese, ma soprattutto perché, quando sarebbe quasi pronto a rinunciare alla ricerca del suo passato, viene a conoscenza dell'equivoco che ha generato il suo falso riconoscimento.
Una dimostrazione di come una trama legata esclusivamente alla linguistica possa generare un romanzo davvero avvincente, e la scelta del finlandese, una delle lingue più complicate e misteriose parlate in Europa, rende ancora più preziosa la vicenda.
November 30, 2017
Πολύ ενδιαφέρον θέμα, ίσως σε κάποια σημεία η ίδια η ιδέα ήταν καλύτερη από την εκτέλεση αλλά συνολικά μου άρεσε. Θα ήθελα να νιώσω λίγο καλύτερα την απόγνωση που πρέπει να ένιωθε αυτός ο άνθρωπος αλλά σκέφτομαι πως μπορεί να ήταν ηθελημένα λίγο χλιαρό μιας και είναι γραμμένο από έναν άνθρωπο που δεν κατέχει άριστα την γλώσσα στην οποία γράφει. Γι' αυτή τη σκέψη και το ενδεχόμενο βάζω 4 αντί για 3 αστέρια.
June 14, 2017
Τόσο υπέροχο που ενώ το δανείστηκα, τώρα που το διάβασα θα το αγοράσω αμέσως.
April 25, 2014
An interesting idea for a story but overall I found this quite dull
March 31, 2023
Let me tell you a story: I was in Berlin, walking around Neukölln, a bit bored and aimless. It was a very gray day. And I was just waiting to exit Germany and go to Italy, where I was heading for a base camp in Trieste. And then I find a very small bookstore, just a door, and jump in. It's very quiet and I start to suspect that I'm the only one in. I looked for some books and then a guy appears from behind the corner, looks me dead in the eye and says: "We know each other", which made my skin crawl. It was like a scene from Lost Highway by David Lynch. But then everything came back; my friend, Ben from Texas, working in a bookstore in Neukölln was in Helsinki last September and we talked for an hour, doing a live radio show. So we talked, drank coffee and so on. Ben wanted to help me find the books I wanted, to which I replied: "I'm looking for signs", continuing to go through the shelves. And then I found this, which seemed eerily detailed to my upcoming trip: a Finnish man is found on the shore of Trieste, where I was heading, totally lost his identity.
So, it turns out bumping into Ben wasn't the strangest thing – it was bumping into myself.
Bought this, got "Mythologies" by Roland Barthes for free from Ben.
Now I am in Trieste and I just finished this book. It was a very interesting ride, going through the war history of Finland and mythologies of Kalevala, combining them to philosophical studies on personality, love, belonging, war and most of all, death. And maybe God.
This was a book with a good premise, surprisingly deep and bleak themes, not shying from anything. And it was a very weird ride, looking to your own country's history from this angle. At times pretty awkward, but then again at times very good and powerful.
And for me, I feel like I have my identity in check. It's good here in Trieste. I'm a bit afraid of returning, though.
So, this might be a spoiler, but I guess nobody of you won't be reading this rarity. But-a.... turns out he wasn't Finnish at all – he was Italian.
So, it turns out bumping into Ben wasn't the strangest thing – it was bumping into myself.
Bought this, got "Mythologies" by Roland Barthes for free from Ben.
Now I am in Trieste and I just finished this book. It was a very interesting ride, going through the war history of Finland and mythologies of Kalevala, combining them to philosophical studies on personality, love, belonging, war and most of all, death. And maybe God.
This was a book with a good premise, surprisingly deep and bleak themes, not shying from anything. And it was a very weird ride, looking to your own country's history from this angle. At times pretty awkward, but then again at times very good and powerful.
And for me, I feel like I have my identity in check. It's good here in Trieste. I'm a bit afraid of returning, though.
So, this might be a spoiler, but I guess nobody of you won't be reading this rarity. But-a.... turns out he wasn't Finnish at all – he was Italian.
April 2, 2021
زبان و هویت. این روزها مدام بهشون فکر میکنم. برای همین هم کتابهایی با این موضوعها نظرمو جلب میکنن. مردِ بیزبان شاید برای خیلیها کتاب معمولیای باشه، اما من باهاش زندگی کردم. کلمه به کلمهش رو مزمزه کردم.
حدس زدن انتهای کتاب کار سختی نبود. اما همراه شدن با سرنوشت سامپو، فکر کردن به گذشتهای که به یاد نداشت، تلاشش برای یادگیری و همینطور برای کشف گذشتهاش آدم رو درگیر خودش میکنه.
چقدر این کتاب دلنشین و دوستداشتنی بود!
حدس زدن انتهای کتاب کار سختی نبود. اما همراه شدن با سرنوشت سامپو، فکر کردن به گذشتهای که به یاد نداشت، تلاشش برای یادگیری و همینطور برای کشف گذشتهاش آدم رو درگیر خودش میکنه.
چقدر این کتاب دلنشین و دوستداشتنی بود!
October 29, 2020
Italian author Diego Marani has a deep fascination with languages. Marani has even invented a mock fictitious language, Europanto, that employs various European dialects. Therefore it is not surprising that language plays a major role in “New Finnish Grammar.” The gist of the story focuses on a sailor, Sampo Karjalainen, who survives traumatic injury but is nonetheless left without memory of both language and identity. The narration alternates between the recuperating sailor and a Finnish-born doctor who takes a long-term interest in this unusual case. The doctor assumes Sampo is Finnish because of an inseam nametag. Sampo is returned to Finland amidst warring World War II factions. A Lutheran pastor overseas Sampo’s reeducation and much of his newly learned Finnish language is gleaned from the epic 19th century folklore, Kalevala. Sampo’s new language is deemed a “personal Finnish grammar,” redolently described as “full of repeated vowels, with umlauts like helmets and aitches like slung arms.” There is much interplay between the relationship of language with personal identity and memory. There is also a fascinating Dostoevsky-like monologue on the existence (or lack thereof) of God. This is consistent with the Lutheran pastor having more connection with pagan mythology than with Christian orthodoxy. Overall, I found this to be a fascinating novel, in part because the reader is educated as to Finland’s complex relationship with Nazi Germany in their attempt to survive the neighboring Soviet communist onslaught during the "War of Continuation."
Displaying 1 - 30 of 262 reviews