Book Review | New Finnish Grammar
It may be written by a Eurocrat, but this long-gestating novel on the intricacies of language is definitely worth a look, ROSE LAPIRA says.
Recently I was asked why I often review books by authors who are usually unknown in Malta. True, I tend to shy away from British and American authors. By my choice, I hope that more readers become aware of the vast number of books which are published yearly on the European mainland. Since many of these books are now being translated in English, this is opening new vistas for the Maltese reader. Some may not make easy reading, but usually they have a certain sensibility: intellectual, melancholy, and a sense of tragedy and history, qualities often lacking in so called bestsellers.
Such a book is New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani. I did not know anything about the author, but the blurb said that it took 10 years to see Diego Marani’s first novel published in English – in an impeccable translation by Judith Landry – being first published in Italian in 2000. The author was awarded the Premio Grinzano Cavour.
Marani, born in Ferrara in 1959 is a Eurocrat – a senior linguist working for the European Union in Brussels. He writes for a Swiss newspaper about current affairs in Europanto, a language he has invented. In Italian, he has published six novels. It is important to know the author’s background for language is central to his novel: ‘Without it we have no roots and no memory.’
The novel has an apparently simple story. It is 1943. A badly wounded man regaining consciousness on a German warship berthed in Trieste finds he has lost his memory completely. He is looked after by a Finnish doctor, Friari, who from the name tag on the man’s jacket deducts that the man is Finnish and that his name is Sampo Karjalanien. He tries to teach him Finnish words and then he is sent to Helsinki in search for his identity. However, Sampo can in no way remember his past or go forward into the future, for he has lost not only his memory, but also the power of words. This reminded me of an intriguing film I had seen some time ago by Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki called The Man without a Past.
While a mystery story and a love element are present in the novel, these are of secondary importance. Marani explores how the collective memory and the cultural identity of a nation are derived from its language: ‘Language is our mother and it is through language that we come into this world.’ Marani is interested in how language shapes our sense of ourselves and the world, and while memory is a burden, the effects of its absence are worse, as evidenced by the desperate isolation of the protagonist.
‘If nothing is forgotten, memories would cease to exist.’ Our identity is built on language. Language makes us understand our past and enables us to seek our future. It comes as no surprise that when Sampo learns Finnish and assumes his presumed Finnish identity (not his real one), he enlists to fight in the war with tragic consequences.
The novel has a simple but unusual structure. Most of the story is narrated by the man without a past, but at times we have comments by the doctor. It is also interesting in the way the author integrated the recent history of Finland with the fate of the unknown man. Indirectly we get to know about this war-torn country battling against Russia in 1939 and in 1942-4. This is a period of Finnish history about which we hear very little.
As is to be expected from Marani the linguist, he writes at some length on the complexities of the Finnish language and its ties to the ancient myths and sagas of the country. This may put off some readers, but overall the book is beautifully written, poetic and mysterious. It has much philosophical wisdom that will be long remembered after one has read the book. Besides, it will raise many pertinent questions regarding our own language and identity.