Transcription Series, VI: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle
Ok, last one here before returning this rather beloved book back to the library so others can have a shot at enjoying it, too.
In this chapter, Kingsolver and her husband go to Italy for a second honeymoon. The way she writes about Italy makes me, for the first time ever in my life, want to go there. My grandmother is Italian -- her father immigrated from Regio Cosenza in the 1910s and her mother was 2nd gen. Italian. Neither my grandmother nor my mother married/produced children with Italians, so only a quarter of my ethnic background is Italian, but that never stopped me from identifying myself primarily as Italian while growing up.
I am Italian by marriage: both Steven's maternal grandparents were born there, emigrating as young adults. His mother and aunts grew up in an Italian-speaking home, deeply identified with the foodways and all other ways of the mother country. Steven has ancestors from other parts of the world too, but we don't know much about them. It's my observation that when Italian genes are present, all others duck and cover. His daughter looks like the apple that fell not very far from the olive tree; when asked, Lily identifies herself as American and invariably adds, "but really I'm Italian." p.243
When I read this, I laughed and laughed and laughed. It's just SO TRUE!
***
The last thing I wanted to share is Kingsolver's approach to attempting to understand Italian. She does exactly what I would (and have) done.
Reading the menus was reliable entertainment for other reasons too. More Italians were going to chef school, apparently, than translator school. This is not a complaint; it's my belief that when in Rome, you speak the best darn Italian you can muster. So we mustered. I speak some languages, but that isn't one of them. Steven's Italian consisted of only the endearments and swear words he grew up hearing from his Nonnie. I knew the Italian vocabulary of classical music, plus that one song from Lady and the Tramp. But still, I'd be darned if I was going to be one of those Americans who stomp around Italy barking commands in ever-louder English. I was going to be one of those Americans who traversed Italy with my forehead knit in concentration, divining words from their Latin roots and answering by wedging French cognates into Italian pronunciations spliced onto a standard Spanish verb conjugation. p. 244
When I read this, I shouted internally, "Yes yes yes!!!" This is precisely the sort of thing I would have done. Yay, linguaphiles!!! ^_^
And thus ends my transcription series. There is so much more awesomeness in this book. If you have any sort of inclination to read the rest of it, please please please do! You won't regret it!
In this chapter, Kingsolver and her husband go to Italy for a second honeymoon. The way she writes about Italy makes me, for the first time ever in my life, want to go there. My grandmother is Italian -- her father immigrated from Regio Cosenza in the 1910s and her mother was 2nd gen. Italian. Neither my grandmother nor my mother married/produced children with Italians, so only a quarter of my ethnic background is Italian, but that never stopped me from identifying myself primarily as Italian while growing up.
I am Italian by marriage: both Steven's maternal grandparents were born there, emigrating as young adults. His mother and aunts grew up in an Italian-speaking home, deeply identified with the foodways and all other ways of the mother country. Steven has ancestors from other parts of the world too, but we don't know much about them. It's my observation that when Italian genes are present, all others duck and cover. His daughter looks like the apple that fell not very far from the olive tree; when asked, Lily identifies herself as American and invariably adds, "but really I'm Italian." p.243
When I read this, I laughed and laughed and laughed. It's just SO TRUE!
***
The last thing I wanted to share is Kingsolver's approach to attempting to understand Italian. She does exactly what I would (and have) done.
Reading the menus was reliable entertainment for other reasons too. More Italians were going to chef school, apparently, than translator school. This is not a complaint; it's my belief that when in Rome, you speak the best darn Italian you can muster. So we mustered. I speak some languages, but that isn't one of them. Steven's Italian consisted of only the endearments and swear words he grew up hearing from his Nonnie. I knew the Italian vocabulary of classical music, plus that one song from Lady and the Tramp. But still, I'd be darned if I was going to be one of those Americans who stomp around Italy barking commands in ever-louder English. I was going to be one of those Americans who traversed Italy with my forehead knit in concentration, divining words from their Latin roots and answering by wedging French cognates into Italian pronunciations spliced onto a standard Spanish verb conjugation. p. 244
When I read this, I shouted internally, "Yes yes yes!!!" This is precisely the sort of thing I would have done. Yay, linguaphiles!!! ^_^
And thus ends my transcription series. There is so much more awesomeness in this book. If you have any sort of inclination to read the rest of it, please please please do! You won't regret it!