The writing is very delicate, as Italian, I understand and feel her search for syntactically word by word., and i have read with tenderness some small words here and there still "unripe" in its typical construction. or the very correct use in the real Dante’s Italian, like "ambascia" or " vescicose" reading them warmed my heart. Nilanjana Sudeshna "Jhumpa" Lahiri was born in London and brought up in South Kingstown, Rhode Island. Brought up in America by a mother who wanted to raise her children to be Indian, she learned about her Bengali heritage from an early age. Lahiri has always been adept at describing emotional depths with spare literary means: the simplest words, the least elaborate sentences. One should not approach this novel hoping for a plot-driven novel. Dove mi trovo is very much about language. Lahiri's Italian is crisp and deceptively simple. There are observations or conversations that are rendered with clarity, and there are passages that convey a sense of disquiet. While I can't say whether Lahiri always articulated phrases like an Italian would, I didn't notice any Englishism on her part. I loved the way Lahiri articulated her phrases and the correct if démodé terms she used.

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However I would stress that my Italian is almost non-existent - so this is less a criticism of the translation but of the resulting experience of an English reader. I listened to my parents and did what they asked me to. Even though, in the end, I never made them happy. Jhumpa Lahiri’s third novel is the triumphant culmination of her 20-year love affair with Italian, an obsession that led her to move to Rome with her family almost 10 years ago. She renounced all reading in English and began to write only Italian. Published in Italy in 2018 as Dove mi trovo – “Where I find myself” or “Where am I?” – it is her first novel written in Italian. Now she has translated it into English under the title Whereabouts. As Roman Clodia's review ( https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) points out the effect is rather like a lesser version of Rachel Cusk's Faye from her trilogy, and the novel felt oddly unsatisfying although it came together more powerfully at the end, as the narrator looks to leave the city, and it also becomes clear how her personality is a result of her father and mother's respective temperaments and their troubled family relationship.

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The story is adapted from your new novel, “ Whereabouts,” which will be published in April. You’ve been writing in Italian for several years now, and you wrote the novel in Italian, under the title “ Dove mi trovo,” and then translated it into English. In an excerpt we ran in 2015 from your essay collection “ In Other Words,” you describe the moment when you found yourself first writing a diary entry in Italian: “I write in a terrible, embarrassing Italian, full of mistakes. . . . It’s as if I were writing with my left hand, my weak hand, the one I’m not supposed to write with.” Could you have imagined then that you would ever be comfortable enough in the language to write a novel? Whereabouts - Dove mi trovo - my first foray into Jhumpa Lahiri’s work turned out to be her first novel she has written in Italian since she moved from the US to Rome, chose to leave English behind and to write exclusively in Italian instead. When I was reading the book (in Dutch), it had been published already in Italian, Spanish and Dutch, but not yet in English. Other than for her bilingual book In Other Words, Jhumpa Lahiri announced that this time she would self-translate her first novel written in Italian into English. In an interview she deemed ‘the idea of my own creation in Italian not having a life in English yet interesting’, assuming that for translating her book she 'will have to go into a place where she is two people’. In the meantime Lahiri published the English translation of her own book under the title Whereabouts. It is hard to explain the forces in life that drive you to a language and then to a place and then to a new life The story tells us about a woman in her 40s living life on her own, reflecting on the life she has lived so far. Sono io e non lo sono, vado via e resto sempre qui. Questa frase scompiglia brevemente la mia malinconia come un sussulto che fa oscillare i rami, che fa tremare le foglie di un albero.»

Jhumpa Lahiri: Where I find myself | Princeton University Press

A pleasant evening can be had spent in the company of this short novel, perhaps less a novel more a collection of observations. Delicate vignettes, entitled things like: "In the Sun", "Upon waking," "On the couch" and "At the cash register" give the reader a sense of the languid pace of the action ahead. The responsibility of translation is as grave and precarious as that of a surgeon who is trained to transplant organs, or to redirect the blood flow to our hearts, and I wavered at length over the question of who would perform the surgery. I only hope that she did not have in her heart that depressed vision if not jealous of the reality described there, otherwise Juhmpa, what a great woman you are!! Rappresentanza della posizione italiana nel processo di integrazione europea nell’attuazione della politica estera e di sicurezza comune europea, nonché nelle relazioni politiche ed economiche estere dell’Unione Europea;Originally written in Italian it is translated by the author herself and it reveals her poetic soul. The language is enchanting. You feel warm through your whole being. More a reflection on the wonder of life and the things around you. You don’t feel like a confident listening to gossip; you don’t feel you are just nodding in the right places. You feel part of the woman’s life, as integral to her being and presence as her shoes. Not just seeing with her eyes but engaging all your senses.

Joy of Translation as Discovery Jhumpa Lahiri on the Joy of Translation as Discovery

Whenever my surroundings change I feel enormously sad. This is especially true if the place I leave behind is linked to memories, grief, or happiness. It's the change itself that unsettles me[.]" My favourite chapters are about the character and her mother. That's complicated but so well-written. Il nostro Ministero opera attraverso una rete di uffici in tutto il mondo: Ambasciate, Rappresentanze permanenti presso le organizzazioni internazionali, Delegazioni Diplomatiche Speciali, Uffici Consolari e Istituti Italiani di Cultura. This is the kind of writing that is easy to slap the label 'navel-gazing' upon but that would be ungracious. Not everything has to be "oh! look at the state of the world", it can be about solitude, the pleasure of figs and the delights of the local stationery shop. There were flashes of the type of brilliant insight I expect from a writer of Lahiri's caliber, but they were few and far between.Solitude demands a precise assessment of time, I've always understood this. It's like the money in your wallet: you have to know how much time you need to kill, how much to spend before dinner, what's left over before going to bed Lahiri taught creative writing at Boston University and the Rhode Island School of Design. Much of her short fiction concerns the lives of Indian-Americans, particularly Bengalis. An unnamed narrator in an unnamed Italian city recounts a year in her life through a series of short, simple, quiet vignettes, each stamped by a "whereabout" in her life: In the Hotel; By the Sea; In My Head, At the Coffee Bar, etc. She is a university professor in her mid-forties, single, never married, mourning her father who died when she was fifteen, and feeling vaguely guilty about her aging mother, who also lives alone in another city. She's an understated introvert in an ebullient culture that values large groups of friends and family members, that prizes abundance in its art, music and food. She carefully segments her time to fill the spaces in her life: the hours at work, meals in local trattoria, twice-weekly swims, reading before bed, the weekend's empty hours when she can hide under the covers all day if she chooses. The book is set out in a series of short chapters – set over a year, in which the unnamed narrator, living in the unnamed City (which seems to be Rome) in which she was born traces her life over the course of a year. With a small number of exceptions, each chapter is set in a location (the sidewalk, the street, at the trattoria, in the bookstore, in the waiting room, at my house, in bed), time (In Spring, In August, In Winter) with a few set “In My Head” (I believe these are 'Tra sé e sé' in the original).

Writing in Italian, Jhumpa Lahiri Found a New Voice

It probably grew out of my frequent crossing of Ponte Garibaldi in Rome, the bridge that takes me from Trastevere and leads to the Jewish Ghetto on the other side of the Tiber, where there is a library, housed in the Centro Studi Americani, that I love to work in. I discovered it when I was living in Rome, and I began writing this piece of fiction there. Her first novel, The Namesake, which follows the fortunes of “Gogol”, the son of Bengali immigrants, as he makes his way in New York, was made into a film by acclaimed director Mira Nair; and her second The Lowland, a family saga stretching from 1950s Calcutta to New England decades later, was shortlisted for the Booker prize in 2013. Although Whereabouts is a novel, it could be described almost as a collection of connected short stories, and so, in form at least, Lahiri is very much on home ground. She may be a traditionalist, but surely there is no bigger experiment for a writer than adopting an entirely new language? Like a 21st-century Henry James heroine, she shunned the US (the Brooklyn brownstone literary set, of which she was one of the most feted) for the old world charms of Rome, in what she describes as nothing less than an act of “literary survival”. “It is really hard to explain the forces in life that drive you to people, to places, to languages,” she says. “For me, to a language and then to a place and then to a new life, a new way of thinking, a new way of being. Those are very big things.” Whereabouts is the latest novel by Jhumpa Lahiri that is captivating not only because of the beautiful prose but the dreamlike quality to the book as we follow an unknown narrator through an unknown city in Italy for an entire year. And the fifth shining star was given because Lahiri moved to Italy quite a few years ago embracing the country, the culture and the language. She wrote this book in Italian and then translated it herself into English. Brava Signorina!!! Although not capturing Rome but the Italian city of Matera, Federico Scarchilli’s gorgeous picture on the cover of the Dutch edition harmonises wonderfully with the novel. A total solitude that sincerely suffocates the reader, the protagonist seems deliberately created without the possibility to ask and give herself the reason of things and without strength and desire for a "real" change. In Italian we’ll call it a "piagnona".Is a life on one’s own necessarily a skimpy, barren life? As the impression the narrator leaves behind stays vague, the answer on that question seems ephemeral too. Although when the narrator recounts in one laconic phrase how it suffices for her to get some crumbs of affection that fall from the table of her best friend’s family life in the shape of the attention the friend’s husband devotes to her, I wonder who is she fooling anyway. At times the narrator feels like they are being a stalker and quite disturbed. You will not like this character. Quite judgemental at times and making assumptions about people they've just met, the character does well with being not able to be in good terms with anyone. But somehow you will be able to relate. Feeling more like an exercise than a fully formed novel, Whereabouts marks Lahiri's return to fiction for the first time in nearly 8 years. We follow an unnamed female narrator in her mid-40s who lives, presumably, in Italy. Everything is anonymized. She has no strong ties to anyone or anything, though she mentions her family (in passing or in reflective moments on old memories) and her co-workers, nothing is concrete. Your story in this week’s issue, “ Casting Shadows,” opens on a bridge in an Italian city as a woman and a man meet. When did that image first come to mind? The main parts of the story is made of the people the character met in her life. Weird, selfish, manipulative people and problematic parents.