Review: Te Moana o Reo | Ocean of Languages

Te Moana o Reo | Ocean of Languages is an anthology to dip in and out of like the tide on a summer’s day. Kaleidoscopic in scope, this tapestry of over 40 languages spoken, written and read in Aotearoa is a welcome addition to our literary landscape — and a reminder of the richness of our communities. Editors Elvy and Rapatahana write: 'In the twenty-first century, we navigate an ocean of languages in this country. And so, we set out to tune in to the many languages around us, to hear how they might ring out on the page.' Te Moana o Reo offers a melody stitching together a number of voices; old and young, established and new.

Microfiction forms much of the collection, blending English with a host of other languages. The recurring themes come into focus early: family, history, childhood, home; the relationship between language and culture, between language and the self. Renee Liang’s 'Embrace' memorably portrays language as something that resides within the body, with Liang’s remembered Cantonese 'hitting [her] bloodstream like oxygen'. I’m struck by the image of Liang’s father trying to 'rescue' her from English as a child before it overwhelms her arteries (and thus her ancestry). Melanie Kwang’s poignant '(M)other tongue' addresses this generational divide from a child’s perspective; a child believing 'all adults naturally lost their / language through old age, / and that was why my parents’ English was broken.' 

Is language an unbridgeable barrier, or is true translation possible? Several stories interrogate what it means to transpose an idea from one dialect into another, such as James Norcliffe’s 'Translating my brother (Linda Pasternak)' and Ghazaleh Gol’s 'a love poem in persian english'. The latter suggests a person’s very way of loving is shaped by language, judging at least by medieval Persian poets’ 'absurd' declarations ('I’ll be your liver.')

But the lyrical 'Before light' by Maryana Garcia may offer a vision of a deeper, common tongue that 'came before light' and 'cannot be annihilated, only forgotten.' Pieces like Garcia’s, with a more defined theme or narrative, captured me most from the collection. While some expressly take language as their subject, others like Sally Houtman’s 'Du livre de sa vie: From the book of his life' involve language almost incidentally while telling a compelling story. Houtman’s breezy tale of short-lived romance is rife with wit and wisdom: '‘Opportunity,’ she said, ‘is just goodbye in fancy dress.’'

Finishing the anthology are 12 illuminating essays from writers, translators, and other language practitioners. Several of these longer pieces are my favourite contributions in Te Moana o Reo, and I couldn’t help wondering whether it might have made for a more varied reading experience had the essays been interwoven throughout the collection, rather than all placed together at the end.

David Eggleton’s 'A poem is a legend' explores his lifelong language-play with an incantatory rhythm, and serves as a good primer for the other essays. Jana Grohnert’s eloquent 'Lost and found in the ocean of language' is a thought-provoking piece traversing her relationship with English and German, both personally and professionally. My highlight, however, is 'Scolding angry mother mare' by Shima Jack and Xuan Luo (Jack’s mother). Beyond its terrific title, the essay offers a view of the complex connection between mother and daughter, and their respective connections with language – seen through their own eyes as well as each other’s. It’s hard not to imagine bonding with one’s parent through the writing of something like this, which interweaves Luo’s experiences (represented by italics) with Jack’s.

'The intimate temper' is also a dialogue, being a conversation between SJ Mannion and Moata McNamara 'on language and meaning'. The essay may at points be more academic and less immediately accessible than the others, but it imparts valuable insights. One may as well be the thesis statement for the anthology: 'Language is a tricksy thing and talking about it tricksier still.' Reviewed by Anuja Mitra