What to do if nobody speaks your language?

As we have established in class, Geryon is an outcast. A little red winged monster, in a world full of humans who neither see the world the way he sees it, nor understand his way of seeing it. Humans have a tendency to try to categorize everything, and not fitting into any category or being categorized as an outcast does something with a person. It leaves them isolated and lonely, robbing them of the “home” one can find in community. The same happens to Geryon, who is not only isolated but also seems to lack a common language in which he could articulate himself, advocate for himself and make himself heard. Because of his different way of trying to communicate, which is not being understood by others, he is repeatedly called stupid. How “estranged” his attempts of articulating himself must seem to himself can also be seen by the way how he heard himself speak (“Geryon heard Geryon say”) (p. 39).

Language and identity as well as power are closely intertwined with each other, as we have experienced in various class readings such as Brokeback Mountain or Eli Clare. Therefore, by not having a language to articulate himself in and be understood, Geryon is both isolated and left powerless. I think that he realizes this already at his young age, and that both the process of creating his autobiography as well as his interest in photography are (desperate) attempts to be understood. He is trying to switch to other means of communication, where words and oral communication have failed him.

The day after he got abused by his brother for the first time, he started working on his autobiography, where he “set down all inside things particularly his own heroism” (p. 29). Since nobody else believed in him, it was on him to believe in himself and his heroism. Additionally, it is important to have a place to offload/ outsource some of the heavy “inside things” we carry around with us. If we have no other person who understands us, we need other measures, for instance an autobiography. Especially heartbreaking is at what a young age Geryon seems to have learned (or had to learn!) this, since he started his autobiography as a sculpture, not knowing how to write yet.

The other measure of communication Geryon tries after words fail him is his camera. The first time the camera is mentioned is after he met Heracles, when his mother is trying to have a conversation with him about Heracles. He is adjusting the focus of the camera and does not (verbally) answer because “he had recently relinquished speech” (p. 40). While before Geryon had trouble communicating and being understood, his troubles seem to have worsened, and he does not speak anymore. Instead, he is zooming in on the throat and mouth of his mother while she is talking to him. This can clearly be connected to language, since the throat and mouth are the two primary speech producing organs that are visible “from the outside”. It seems as if he is trying to desperately make sense of language and find access to the language everyone around him but himself seems to speak.

I think that his autobiography and the use of his camera are two attempts of Geryon to find his language or, rather, to adapt and convert himself to another language frequency, so that other people around him can understand him and he can finally experience some of the comfort and community that a shared language can bring.

Dissecting Words

In the reading, “Losing Home,” Eli Clare treats words the same way he treats people— with incredible patience and a need to understand their nuance. It seems at times as if Clare’s unrelenting curiosity about a world that has betrayed him is almost un-human— that one should not want to analyze an environment that abused them. Yet, Clare’s words have a healing power in the way that they are treated with such grace. I think Clare dissects words in this chapter to show how words, and the bodies to which they are ascribed, are deeply multi-faceted. This is significant as it shows how the ever-evolving nature of language can allow for reflection, acceptance, and healing— especially in queer spaces.

This chapter in particular centers around the exploration of three words that all relate to Clare’s experience of “losing home.” They are: “Queer. Exile. Class” (Clare 31). Clare’s description of “exile” is poignant: “Let me return now to exile. It is a big word, a hard word. It implies not only loss, but a sense of allegiance and connection– however ambivalent– to the place left behind, an attitude of mourning rather than of good riddance” (Clare 35). Too often, words are thrown around without paying attention to their meaning. People often assume that everyone knows a word to carry the same definition. Clare takes the time to break down and show that “exile,” something that often has a larger-than-life, sometimes “mythical” feel of casting out the “bad guy,” can actually imply allegiance and grief. To say that a person has been exiled may not just imply anger and wrongdoing, but also a profound sense of loss. Language is a way of attempting to convey unique experiences in a universally comprehensible way— so it is no surprise that one word can have various connotations.

Humanity has a tendency to categorize words, people— bodies. If a word like “exile” can have a whole host of implications, what does that say about race, class, or queerness? This ambiguity allows space for healing. This way, “queer” does not imply solely joy or pain. It is evolving, encompassing the experiences of each person to which it applies, in the same way “exile” does. There is altogether universality and individuality in language. Clare’s analysis of language allows people to subvert their categories and accept that their bodies exist at once in many different spaces. This chapter pushes us to allow ourselves grace— if language has copious complex meanings and descriptions, and we define ourselves with language, then so do we. Accepting this can be a comforting, healing thing.

the Piranesi nightmare

“Reason. I was caught in a Piranesi nightmare. The logical paths the proper steps led nowhere. My mind took me up tortuous staircases that opened into doors that opened into nothing.” (p.92)

The following text passage stroke me as very interesting when I read it, especially the mention of the “Piranesi nightmare”. There is a novel called Piranesi by Susanna Clarke, published in 2020, that I read last summer. It is set in a parallel world that is one endless house with an infinite number of staircases, halls and big rooms full of statues. The novel deals with various topics, among them being lost and finding oneself. After finishing the novel I did some research on Piranesi and found out that the novel was referring to the Italian Artist G. B. Piranesi, who, among other things, has produced a series with 16 prints called “Imaginary Prisons” in the 18th Century. It is also interesting, that WOTB is a lot older than Clarke’s novel Piranesi, which raises the question how Piranesi might shape newer interpretations of the mention of “Piranesi nightmare” in WOTB.

I see a reoccurring pattern in my chosen quote from WOTB, parts that can be grouped together, namely “Piranesi nightmare”, “steps leading nowhere” and “tortuous staircases opening into doors into nothing’”. All these parts have parallels to the novel Piranesi, where Piranesi, the main protagonist lives in this endless house with infinite rooms and staircases, leading to more rooms, but ultimately to “nothing”. They also resemble a labyrinth, a term that can also be associated with the artist Piranesi. The narrator feels lost in his own mind. This can also be connected to the very first word of the paragraph, “Reason”. It is interesting that the first sentence of the paragraph is just one word. Reason is a powerful word and can both mean an individual reason to do something as well as a greater, more general meaning and question of reason, almost philosophical as in “why do we do things in the way that we do them and why do we decide what we decide”.

What I am really trying to say here is that I think these lines are showing us how overthinking and analyzing can make us feel lost because we try to find a logical explanation for everything, when in reality, not every question has an answer. Reason gives us seemingly comfort, but actually it’s a nightmare, desperately trying to find an explanation for everything, thinking in complicated ways to make sense into things that aren’t supposed to make sense, just to frustratingly end up in “nothing” at the end. If we free ourselves from the urge to bring sense into everything, we free ourselves from this nightmare of a labyrinth, and thereby bring sense into it. The sense is that not everything can be explained with sense. Maybe the nameless narrator of WOTB also feel imprisoned by reason and his own mind.

This pattern of urge toward reason or explanation can also be seen in other parts of the novel, for example is the narrator trying to fight Louise’s cancer with reason, learning as much as they can about it. In the end though, cancer still does not completely make sense, since there often is no logical explanation as to when and why it develops in the body.

Cereus Blooms at Night and Language Use

Throughout the novel Cereus Blooms at Night by Shani Mootoo, language is a source of control and autonomy for the main character Mala. This reflects the author’s deliberate word and language choices throughout the book to develop the characters identity in different ways. 

The author uses language as a tool of developing identity. When Ambrose’s wife leaves him, he corrects her writing. His view and use of language, which he used a lot with Mala and barely ever used with his current wife because he was asleep most of the time, show his attitudes towards the two of them. I took Mala’s control and limited use of language as a way for her to have control over an aspect of her life. Malas upbringing, from being left behind by her mother to the extensive rape from her father she had to battle, has left her no room for control in her life. Her father controls where she goes and what she cooks, and Mala has to obey due to his violence. Once he is gone and Mala is on her own, she can take control of herself and identity. 

The author says “Mala gives up verbal language, while I use verbal language to detail her trauma and her triumph. To my mind, her abandonment of this language and my use of it are only different sides of the very same coin.” (Mootoo, 111). This further shows the sense of control Mala has over herself now, she can control what she tells Tyler, her life is no longer someone else’s. Mootoo uses specific words to show the relationships and identities of characters. I saw this in the discussion of Mala’s father, “Pohpoh was what her father had lovingly called her since she was a baby…but when Chandin Ramchandin started touching her in ways that terrified and hurt her…” (Mootoo, 200). When talking about the past and their father daughter relationship, the author uses the titles “Poh Poh” and “father”, but when talking about the brutality, the author says “Chandin Ramchandin” and “Mala”, which is what PohPoh changed her name too because Mala reminded her too much of her fathers actions towards her. 

 

Language (or Distance)

The verse novel “Autobiography of Red” by Anne Carson I was especially struck by the way in which she uses different languages or rather how she lets Geryon use and understand different languages. There are interferences of German, Quechua, and Spanish during the time of Geryon’s travels.

As Geryon travels to Argentina and later to Peru it makes sense for the people around him to speak Spanish, as it is their native language. Ancash and his mother often use it to communicate with each other and Herakles also uses Spanish sporadically, often disrupting a previous conversation.

Quechua is only referred to once and Geryon inquires the meaning of Ancash’s name, which we never get to know. Spoiler alert: it means “blue” and thus introduces another color, but that is a whole other conversation.

The third language is German, which Geryon refers to when writing postcards back home. It is a language that is far away from the Spanish language and he feels alienated and insecure while using it, wondering if it was illegal to write in German and not Spanish. He mentions that he studied German philosophy in college which explains the highly stylized and old wording of the German sentences but it doesn’t explain why it feels so wrong to him to use it. I believe that he uses the language to express himself to people that mean a lot to him (his mother and professor) and that it makes him feel vulnerable, which is why he doesn’t want it to be discovered. When people use a language that you don’t understand it distances you and makes you a stranger to the conversation. I think the novel is very inventive in using different languages to portray (emotional) distance.

Tyler’s Dress

“I did not even consider leaving her room dressed as I was. I was endowed with a sense of propriety, depended on it, for that matter, for the most basic level of survival. I changed back into my trousers and white-shirt and rubbed my cheeks and lips clean. I stuffed the dress and stockings behind the dresser, deciding to keep if not to wear it again, at least for the memory of some power it seemed to have imparted. It had been a day and evening to treasure. I had never felt so extremely ordinary, and I quite loved it.” (78).

 

Tyler alludes to his non-heteronormative sexuality and non-conforming gender identity in this passage and in several other times throughout the novel. The first time these identities intersect is when he tries on the dress; he enjoys the power wearing the dress gives him. Dressing in traditionally feminine clothing gives him the opportunity to express parts of his self that he has previously been unable to do. He’s never experienced what it’s like to dress as a woman and finds “something delicious about such confinement.” (77) because he has confined this part of his identity for so long. He feels “extremely ordinary” and “love[s] it”. (78) He likes feeling like a woman, but we don’t know yet if he wants to be one or simply enjoys expressing himself as more feminine than masculine. He simply says he identifies as something “in-between, unnamed” (71) and that he hasn’t determined all of the facets of his identity yet. If he had the correct language to speak about his sexuality and gender identity he might be able to define it for himself but he may or may not tell anyone else how he feels. He has not articulated or pondered his desire for Otoh or wearing a dress because he lacks the language to do so.

If Tyler could articulate clearly his identity, he would probably only reveal it a few people. Currently, his closest (and perhaps only) friends are Mala Ramchandin and Otoh Mohanty. He feels some sort of attraction to Otoh and a connection to Mala so it is likely that if he came out to anyone, it would be his two friends. He is speechless when Mala tells him he wants to wear the dress and is at first fearful that she may have figured out his secret. When he realizes she not only doesn’t care if he doesn’t identify as cisgender and/or heterosexual but also wants him to feel happy and wear the dress, he feels a sense of relief and freedom.