In my case there is another distance, another schism. I don't know Bengali perfectly. I don't know how to read it, or even write it. I have an accent, I speak without authority, and so I've always perceived a disjunction between it and me. As a result I consider my mother tongue, paradoxically, a foreign language, too. As
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
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Jhumpa Lahiri expresses a complex relationship with her mother tongue, Bengali. She reveals a sense of distance from the language due to her inability to read or write it fluently. This limitation creates an internal schism, as she feels a lack of authority when she speaks, leading her to perceive Bengali as foreign. Despite her cultural connection, her struggle with the language fosters a sense of disconnection from her heritage.

This paradox of viewing her mother tongue as both familiar and foreign highlights the challenges many individuals face in navigating their cultural identities. Lahiri's reflections in "In Other Words" underscore the intricate dynamics between language and self, illustrating how language can simultaneously ground us in our roots while also alienating us from them. Through her journey, she calls attention to the emotional weight and personal implications of linguistic identity.

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In Other Words
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Other quotes in In Other Words

Everything has to be reconsidered, shaped anew. Autobiographical fiction, even if it is inspired by reality, by memory, requires a rigorous selection, a merciless cutting. One writes with the pen, but in the end, to create the right form, one has to use, like Matisse, a good pair of scissors.
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
Everything has to be reconsidered, shaped anew. Autobiographical fiction, even if it is inspired by reality, by memory, requires a rigorous selection, a merciless cutting. One writes with the pen, but in the end, to create the right form, one has to use, like Matisse, a good pair of scissors.
Why do I write? To investigate the mystery of existence. To tolerate myself. To get closer to everything that is outside of me.If I want to understand what moves me, what confuses me, what pains me--everything that makes me react, in short--I have to put it into words. Writing is my only way of absorbing and organizing life. Otherwise it would terrify me, it would upset me too much.What passes without being put into words, without being transformed and, in a certain sense, purified by the crucible of writing, has no meaning for me. Only words that endure seem real. They have power, a value superior to us.
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
Why do I write? To investigate the mystery of existence. To tolerate myself. To get closer to everything that is outside of me.If I want to understand what moves me, what confuses me, what pains me--everything that makes me react, in short--I have to put it into words. Writing is my only way of absorbing and organizing life. Otherwise it would terrify me, it would upset me too much.What passes without being put into words, without being transformed and, in a certain sense, purified by the crucible of writing, has no meaning for me. Only words that endure seem real. They have power, a value superior to us.
But when I come out of the woods, when I see the basket, scarcely a handful of words remain. The majority disappear. They vanish into thin air, they flow like water between my fingers. Because the basket is memory, and memory betrays me, memory doesn't hold up.
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
But when I come out of the woods, when I see the basket, scarcely a handful of words remain. The majority disappear. They vanish into thin air, they flow like water between my fingers. Because the basket is memory, and memory betrays me, memory doesn't hold up.
One could say that the mechanism of metamorphosis is the only element of life that never changes. The journey of every individual, every country, every historical epoch, of the entire universe and all it contains, is nothing but a series of changes, at times subtle, at times deep, without which we would stand still. The moments of transition, in which something changes, constitute the backbone of all of us. Whether they are a salvation or a loss, they are moments that we tend to remember. They give a structure to our existence. Almost all the rest is oblivion.
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
One could say that the mechanism of metamorphosis is the only element of life that never changes. The journey of every individual, every country, every historical epoch, of the entire universe and all it contains, is nothing but a series of changes, at times subtle, at times deep, without which we would stand still. The moments of transition, in which something changes, constitute the backbone of all of us. Whether they are a salvation or a loss, they are moments that we tend to remember. They give a structure to our existence. Almost all the rest is oblivion.
The unknown words remind me that there's a lot I don't know in this world.
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
The unknown words remind me that there's a lot I don't know in this world.
Why, as an adult, as a writer, am I interested in this new relationship with imperfection? What does it offer me? I would say a stunning clarity, a more profound self-awareness. Imperfection inspires invention, imagination, creativity. It stimulates. The more I feel imperfect, the more I feel alive.
Jhumpa Lahiri In Other Words
Why, as an adult, as a writer, am I interested in this new relationship with imperfection? What does it offer me? I would say a stunning clarity, a more profound self-awareness. Imperfection inspires invention, imagination, creativity. It stimulates. The more I feel imperfect, the more I feel alive.
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Relationships and marriages are hard enough, but you add war into the mix and small fissures become gaping wounds. No one sees what you're seeing - again that clear-eyed, unbiased thing - except your fellow soldiers. It's like one of those movies where only the hero can see the ghosts and everyone else thinks the hero is crazy.
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Relationships and marriages are hard enough, but you add war into the mix and small fissures become gaping wounds. No one sees what you're seeing - again that clear-eyed, unbiased thing - except your fellow soldiers. It's like one of those movies where only the hero can see the ghosts and everyone else thinks the hero is crazy.
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