Fifty Sounds: A Memoir of Language, Learning, and Longing

Barton sifts through 15 years of delectable anecdotes—moving through her career from wide-eyed English teacher to literary Japanese translator—in this inventive debut. Structured in short vignettes that relate to onomatopoetic sounds from the Japanese alphabet, she makes palpable the overwhelming and exhilarating experience (what she refers to as “sensory bombardment”) of being immersed in an unfamiliar language and culture. Shortly after she arrives in Japan at age 21, moja-moja, “the sound of electric hair,” becomes the adjective her students use to describe her curly mane. Koro-koro—“the sound your teeny little identity makes as it goes spinning across the floor”—is used to articulate the “existential crises” Barton encounters while translating, and to explode the fallacy that there is one single “correct translation” for every word (“the definition of what constitutes translational perfection is always going to vary depending on whom you ask”). In a tone that’s contemplative and playful, she ruminates on the works of Barthes, Wittgenstein, and Anne Carson, among others, to offer thought-provoking insights into literary translation as “a form of activism” and refuge: as Barthes writes, “the murmuring mass of unknown language constitutes a delicious protection.” Filled with linguistic surprises and a quiet intellect, this is sure to delight language learners and literary readers alike. (Mar.)