Contrary to what you might think, the origin of the word “babble” and the biblically identified Babylon/Tower of Babel (in that case, Babylon being the transliteration of the Hebrew and Babel coming from the Greek - the two languages having competed in properly interpreting what composes the Bible for millennia) are not related. Babble is thought to have derived from Middle German and English, developed largely from the repeated “ba ba ba” sound of a baby. However, both Babel, the place where a cacophony of languages ended in destruction, and to babble, an often repetitive speech that largely reaches no consequential end, give us distinction between what we’re hearing and what we’re actually comprehending. In both cases, we derive very little meaning.
Etymology* geeks already know that all languages are constantly cannibalizing and coopting one another, unlike what the citizens of Babylon strove for (basically, to have a superior civilization by topping even god), there is no universal spoken language, and most certainly, no commonly spoken language that remains uncorrupted by outside influences. From looking at language, it’s an easy jump to translation. Over the last two years, translation has increasingly pushed itself into the forefront of my brain. Katie Kitamura’s Intimacies from 2021 was a quiet (fictional) study of the life of a translator at the Hague. The same year, Jhumpa Lahiri released Whereabouts, a book she wrote in Italian (not her native language) and translated back to English to release. The Tournament of Books that I participate in every March, always has one to two translated works in the bracket, and major news sources like the New York Times have published pieces on the work of book translators. I’ve never thought so much about the “business” of translation as I have in recent years. The hardest work of translators it seems is to convey the intent behind a series of words, to make sure that nuance does not get lost in sacrifice to word-for-word replacement.
R.F. Kuang’s 2022 mega-work, Babel, brings all these subjects together in a historical fiction/dark academia/fantasy behemoth (the hard copy stretches to nearly 550 pages). We travel to 19th century Oxford with four young scholars, all granted admission not just because of, but despite their birthrights (our lead narrator, Robin, from China; Rami, a Muslim hailing from India; Victoire, a woman of Haitian heritage, and Letty, an English woman.). In this fictional world of magical silver activated by etymologically-related words, fluently speaking multiple languages grants access to “prestigious” institutions, though not necessarily to respect within them. Kuang’s work is meticulously researched, drawing heavily on British imperialism, colonialism and attempting to portray true-to-the-era forms of racism. As these students receive access to a world of comfort and stability through their work as translators, they quickly butt up against their increasing roles in the exploitation and subjugation of other communities, including a role in the Opium Wars.
The friendships forged early on are tested as maturity and awareness forces them to act against individual interests or common ones, to change the system from the inside or the out. There’s a point in Babel where it becomes clear that one of the characters has stopped “translating” their friends. The character hears what they’re saying, but does not seek to understand their experiences. The result has catastrophic consequences. It is a misconception that translation happens only between languages when our existence, our very survival requires interpretation at every turn. We can believe that we love others, but when our love becomes passive, when we shrug off the concept that being in relationship with someone (or something, in the case of our homelands, our Earth) requires actual work, we begin to lose meaning.
Life, like the act of translation, cannot be a bystander endeavor. We must constantly being doing the work of meaning-making. It is not simply a one-to-one swap, this term for that, my action for yours. I must look at the world, at you and say consistently, “but, what is the heart of this story?” Translation transcends utterance. Do I make the effort to comprehend you…or do I just leave you babbling into the void?
I just started reading this on your recommendation and am really enjoying it so far. :) Happy Aquarius Season!