A Soupcon of Language

Embassytown by China Mieville as part 1 of my 2012 Hugo Nominee Challenge – accompanied by a recipe for Alphabet Soup!

This book kicked my ass and I loved every minute of it. Now it wasn’t a particularly gripping story at first. The plot takes a while to unfurl itself ; opening chapters struggle because there’s so much brickwork being laid and some of it fairly needless. The narrator similarly takes a while to become someone I find even remotely interesting. Once you get about halfway through, the story element finally begins to pick up steam and by the last 100 pages you are in a state of gross suspense. It was the beauty of prose that kept me going, along with my Hugo challenge, and I’m glad I did.

The reason this book kicked my ass is summed up in one word: language. China Mieville must have designed this book to challenge and thrill the more linguistically cocksure readers. Indeed I should have paid attention to the epigraph at the opening of the book:

The word must communicate something (other than itself) — Walter Benjamin

China uses his clearly superior vocabulary to pepper the book with words that even one as verbose as myself would find new or unusual. Many of the words are delicious on the tongue and so anyone who is a fan of language will find this book particularly fun to read. Especially out loud. Many of these words are also completely made up by China, making it even harder to decipher what is an obscure reference like panjandrum* (a pompous self-important official or person of rank – after a character, the Grand Panjandrum, in a nonsense work (1755) by Samuel Foote) from aeoli. The latter being a made up word to describe a plant-like breathing apparatus in Embassytown but derived no doubt from alveoli which is the word for air sacs that form oxygen exchange in your lungs. I remember reading aeoli for the first time, thinking it sounded like a perfectly reasonable word but confused as to why it seemed so foreign. That was on page 2.

This story follows the not-so-protagonist Avice Benner Cho. I say not so because what you’ll find is that for the majority of the story, she doesn’t really do much. It takes a while to see her character go from being a “floaker” (one of China’s words) into something much, much more. I will refrain from elaborating though as that itself is already a big spoiler. In any case Avice is a young woman who grew up on a planet inhabited by an alien race known as the Areiki. The Ariekei are a race where language is an amalgamation of two word-sounds spoken from their double mouths to convey what we would in one word. Oh and they are incapable of separating speech from thought which makes it impossible to lie. They also can’t comprehend human speech in the singular form. In order to communicate the government had to create doppels. Doppels are test tube humans created as a perfect pair, not twins, they are literally the exact same person who must speak the dual language in unison to be understood by the Ariekei.

They can’t lie at all. They can’t even form a simile on their own and at the early pages of the book, Avice is called upon to act out a difficult scene in order to bring a simile to life–make it truth–so that the Ariekei can use that figure of speech. You encounter other similes in the novel, including a boy that swims with fish routinely every week so that the simile “the boy who swims with fish” can retain truth since it speaks of an ongoing action. Sound confusing? It is at first but again as the novel unfolds, this concept becomes very important to the central conflict caused by Ariekei who wish to learn to lie. It also carries meaning for an even graver threat to their race through the form of what I will call a speech-toxin. This kind of kenning (a compound expression with metaphorical meaning i.e. oar-steed = ship) is an essential concept throughout the novel. About two thirds of the way in China makes a self-referential comment to this literary device from one of the characters. Very clever and like I said, this book is designed to be a treat for language lovers.

There’s also a nice dose of political philosophy without being heavy handed or preachy. Government control, destruction/manipulation of indigenous peoples, imperialism, and bureaucracy…the usual political thought experimentation that is common in scifi.

Basically if you love language but have never picked up a science fiction book, you should start with this one. It’ll be the gateway drug you need. If you love science fiction but prefer action over verbiage, this might not be the book for you. I think the slow start and language gymnastics would leave a number of science fiction fans feeling unsatisfied and confused. If however you enjoy alien battles AND shakespearean word play, you’ll find this book to be a solid B-

My recipe for this novel seems rather on the nose in such a delightfully tasty way.  It may be June but SF Bay Area weather doesn’t really warm up until August.  We’ve still got days with highs only in the low 60s and wind and rain.  I was so happy to have this soup to hunker down with last night while I delved into my next book.  It also happens to be an insanely easy, short recipe that requires the only skills you have are to chop vegetables.  So if you are kitchen handicapped, this one is for you.

Alphabet Soup

from The New England Soup Factory Cookbook

• 2 red potatoes, scrubbed and diced
• 4 large carrots, peeled, diced
• 2 ribs celery, diced
• 1 cup french green beans, chopped into 1-2 inch pieces
• 1 cup frozen peas
• 8oz diced canned tomatoes, drained
• 8 cups Chicken Broth (vegetarian option use: vegetable broth)
• Salt and Pepper to taste
• Freshly chopped Italian Flat Leaf Parsley (I will always mean this variety fyi unless stated otherwise)
• 1 cup alphabet soup noodles…(I may have gone a bit overboard and added double that so my soup was extra noodle-y)

Bring the broth to a boil and season as needed.  Add in the carrots, potatoes, celery and tomatoes.  Bring back to a boil and then simmer for 20 minutes.

Add in the green beans, peas and noodles and cook for another 15 minutes or so over medium heat.  Readjust the seasonings and toss in your parsley.

Serve up with some rye bread and warm those chilly June bones.

Wow.  That may be the shortest, lest verbose set of instructions I’ve ever provided.  What an odd juxtaposition.