When I first started this book, I thought it would be about language acquisition - as in, acquisition of languages. Julie Sedivy starts with explaining how she came to know so many of them, after all. But it turned out to be about acquisition of Language (singular, capital L), as well as all other ways in which we humans inhabit Language and are haunted by it. 

Part memoir, part nonfiction, these essays are definitely informed by the author's long career as a psycholinguist, but are also written so beautifully that they can be read just for the pleasure derived from literary prose. I have discovered a glitch in myself, however: after three degrees that all included some coursework and tons of academic reading on topics related to those discussed here, I realized that my mind just automatically slips into skimming mode when seeing the keywords. And it was so funny because this is something Sedivy discusses in one of the essays, the need to slow down to be able to feel the beauty of linguistic utterings. I do not know if they are planning to make an audiobook of this text, but I think that would be the best way to interact with it.

The essays are grouped into three sections, roughly following the general narrative arc from acquisition of meaning, through mature use of language, to the idea of its loss. But they can be read out of order and one by one as well.

I have received a free eARC of this book through NetGalley; the review above is my independent opinion of it.

I loved Linguaphile! It’s beautifully written and a fascinating look into language and how we acquire it, interpret it, and use it - whether written, spoken, or signed. It made me reflect on my own relationship with language, particularly as a bilingual person who used one language at home and another in school from a young age. 

Throughout the book, the author also addresses links between language and social norms; for instance, how men and women are perceived as speakers when using the same linguistic signals, and how communication styles and interpretation can differ around the world. In doing so, she includes many different insights and perspectives from various cultures, age groups, and genders as well as the use of signed languages and Protactile language.

Rather than being a solely academic text, Linguaphile is part-memoir. I feel that this personal aspect and outlook makes a book like this more accessible to a wide range of readers, who will be able to compare and contrast with their own life experiences of, and relationships with, language. For those who want to dive deeper into the world of linguistics, there is a comprehensive list of sources in the Notes section at the end of the book.

I think this is a book I’ll be returning to, and it’s certainly one I would be happy to recommend to anyone with an interest in languages and communication!

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for giving me the opportunity to read an advance copy of this book. All views are my own. 

Thanks to NetGalley and FSG for the ARC!

Dr. Julie Sedivy’s Linguaphile is a poppy celebration of language that favors simplicity over substance.

Sedivy has a remarkable ability to synthesize basic linguistic concepts into a manageable package, reframing them in accessible terms. That said, this is probably a better book for readers who haven’t put much thought into language, as the author often reduces these ideas to generalizations that amount to “Isn’t reading magical?!?!” or “There’s a lot of subtext in language.” To be clear, these are important points, and I appreciate the journey Sedivy takes us on to get to them, but it feels like a hike that promises a waterfall and delivers a creek—they feel trite because of their extended setup.

The later sections of the book feel more fruitful, as Sedivy writes directly about some of her research. In particular, her exploration of syntax in “The Rectilinear Movement of Time” is exciting and informative, perfectly threading the needle between analysis and simple language philosophy. Likewise, I found all the discussion of her eye-tracking studies to be really fascinating, though it’s quickly undermined by a (frankly) meanspirited take on the dissolution of the author’s marriage. It’s a pivot that feels indicative of the book’s larger issues.

All of the memoirish scaffolding that Sedivy uses begins to obscure her actual points, which feels like a betrayal of the audience, the author, and the form. Good memoir is tacitly built on the premise that writers will dignify everyone they write about with honesty, including themselves. That means depicting people in all their kindness and cruelty; it means recognizing one’s own faults as much as one’s strengths. In Linguaphile, the author constantly reminds readers that she has been exceptional her whole life, whereas many of the people surrounding her have not. In a different book, these topics might feel at home, but here, they read more like this was the only outlet the author could find to air her frustrations. Similarly, her reliance on art and poetry often feels ill-informed and under-developed, distracting from the discussion rather than clarifying it.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t feel that Sedivy’s authorial strengths lend themselves to the tone and style she uses in Linguaphile. It’s a matter of subjective taste, but she writes with a performatively elevated diction, similar to what you might hear in a graduation speech or a TedTalk. It's a manufactured "artfulness." In those short-form outlets, it might be a powerful approach, but it can’t sustain hundreds of pages here. It's disappointing because I’m certain that if I took a class with Dr. Sedivy, she would be one of my favorite professors; I probably would have loved this book as a freshman linguistics student too—it’s just that her communication style doesn’t translate well to print. 

With all of those caveats in mind, I think this book is probably a great choice for readers who want to reflect more on the mysteries of language. It likely won’t be groundbreaking for most people, but it might be thought-provoking, and sometimes that’s enough!

Also, if anybody asks, I was definitely NOT energized by the section on sentence diagrams. (ugh, I love sentence diagrams.)

 I'm a nerd who grew up speaking two languages (both of which I'm still fluent in now as an adult), brought up in a household that speaks three (one of which I know the grammatical conventions of intuitively, but not as confident writing or speaking at length); I also like learning different languages, and though I wouldn't consider myself fluent in any of these new ones I can say that I have a deep love for languages and the different music they produce across countries and cultures. that said, i really really thought I would like reading this book.
 
this review was going to start on a positive note, i was sure of it, until i reached the part about the argument about a conservative and a liberal making meanings.

information is neutral. it's the telling of it that gets charged with political bias, and i regret to note that political bias is very much blatant here. i for one don't generally associate with myself with either label, finding both of them lacking in nuance (the extremes of either one is vomit-inducing for me for their inaccuracy in reflecting my personal beliefs) but Sedivy is apparently conservative-leaning, at least according to that one paragraph that attempts to describe the difference between the thinking processes of the two.

moving forward, i started scrutinizing each sentence for other things that would make me squint dubiously. the rest of this review will be written with this aforementioned knowledge in mind, just a fair warning.

it does consistently use the words "poetry" and "music" interchangeably, important to note if you're a poet and/or a musician and would like to contend with the syntactical choice.

some subsequent sections address the author's Mother which is a lovely tribute imo.

there are assertions about children that feel under-researched, or otherwise are probably drawing more from personal experience than fact, such as the assertion about children's beliefs (which, would've been presented better if a disclaimer about it were present, as in, if the author labeled such statements as reflection of personal experience rather than a generalization derived from peer-reviewed scientific research.) i think i got this impression from the distinct lack of specific experiences narrated to illustrate the assertions.

If you can enjoy a nonfiction book written with "lyrical" prose (not the adjective I would use, but I'll borrow that word from the book's description) without asking for more information, you'll probably be okay enjoying this book for what it is, but if you're like me and go "Like what? According to whom, specifically? In which contexts are these supposed to be true, and what are the exceptions to the rule? What are these generalizing statements supposed to illustrate, and why should I trust the information you're giving me?" then it's not going to be a pleasant experience here.

i enjoy creative ways to impart knowledge. nice-sounding paragraphs and ample use of fresh metaphors and other figures of speech make nonfiction fun for the reader, of course. but too much of this and too little of concrete, factual evidence takes away from the pleasure of reading nonfiction, at least for someone who expected much more. this may as well have been a prose poetry collection instead. re: my expectations of much more, it's because this book is being sold as "part memoir, part scientific exploration, and part cultural commentary," (quoted verbatim from its description) but imo it should be sold purely as memoir instead, as in, "things i found out about language from MY experience in a lab, and as someone who grew up learning to speak multiple languages." that way i wouldn't have set my own expectations about this in the way that i did.

tl;dr i am not this book's target audience which i would've figured out right away had the description for it been written differently, but i'm sure its target audience is out there aplenty.

Thank you to FSG Publishing and NetGalley for giving temporary access to an eARC in exchange for an honest review.