Babel, or the Necessity of Reading this Book
A Story of the Past and Present told through the cruel lens of a discriminatory Hogwarts
Anyone who has read more than one of my blog-posts would have identified my love for etymology, puns and language in general. You can only imagine how ecstatic I was, to know there was a book that focused on translation and word associations. ‘Babel, Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators’ Revolution’ by Rebecca Kuang might sound unwieldy at first, and even a bit wordy (haha pun intended), but the title will slowly make sense as the plot progresses.
I was introduced to this book through the fiery Hugo Awards 2022 controversy where Babel, along with a few other books, were vetoed out of final awards consideration since the organizers decided these works had problematic content that might be persecuted by the hosting country, China. I have also read her first epic fantasy series, The Poppy War, but was left pretty disappointed by the prose, plot and characters in general, but the familiarity still led me to reading the synopsis for this book. And I found myself a 550-page behemoth to eat away at my time for the next month to come.
This dense tome of a book tackles three completely different things tactfully: the societal issues that it showcases, etymological roots of its deep magic system, and the plot that drives the book forward. Without any single one of these parts, the gears stop turning, and the machine ceases to function. Like a well oiled machine, Kuang manages to weave a compelling tale of feeling like an outsider after having discarded one’s homeland. It shines light on the rampant discrimination existing within post-industrial Oxford, represented in an alternative history version, where the students of different nationalities were brought into England for the sole purpose of translation. The titular Babel, is the name for the tower of the Translation Institution at Oxford, that got its name owing to its invasive and prevalent control over much of the world’s magic.
Our protagonist, Robin Swift, was ‘plucked’, from his family in China, and dropped into post-industrial revolution England as a potential talent for the Translation Institute of Oxford. We meet Ramy, Victorie and Letty who find solace amongst themselves in sharing the same plight: to translate and make silver-bars function. These four children find themselves in the thick and thin of this bleak, dark academia with no one but each other to lean on. Robin is somewhat meek and introverted, but hanging out with the ever enthusiastic and charismatic Ramy changes him for the better; the kind and curious Victorie along with the somewhat prideful but loving Letty complete the family that trudges through the raging trenches of academic pressure and assignments. Seeing how they live their lives in relative harmony, and watching it all crumble continually, and begrudgingly is gut-wrenching.
Why had they refused to see the myriad ways they could hurt each other? Why had they not paused to interrogate their differences in birth, in raising, that meant they were not and could never be on the same side?
Page 88
The grandiose might and pride of colonial England is built upon discrimination and superiority complex, leads to a constant sinking feeling in the reader as the story progresses. The fantasy tower they construct in their heads, named after The Tower of Babel from The Genesis, is destined to fall like its namesake.
The might and pride of colonial England is fueled by many such children, who in turn, are forced to either rid themselves of their origin, or face charges of being themselves. The so-called Tower of Babel cannot hold a candle to this tower in how important it is to their society.
… that despite their affiliation with the Translation Institute and despite their gowns and pretensions, their bodies were not safe on the streets. They were men at Oxford; they were not Oxford men…
Page 68
As I brought up before, I was somewhat disappointed by Kuang’s prose, especially dialogue in The Poppy War. Much to my surprise, I was treated to adeptly written dialogue, delivering complex ideas through well characterized portrayals of the characters. Robin’s dialogue are often filled with doubt, hesitation and a feeling of tipping a boundary, never knowing what constituted another person’s limit. A diligent and emotional student he was, but also somewhat fueled by base instinct and rash when all logic breaks to a halt. We journey through Robin’s perspective throughout the novel, and we too suffer through the unknowns and uncertainties of his actions. Dealing with the consequences of his choices, and seeing him slowly blame himself.
“You’re a ship adrift, searching for familiar shores. I understand what it is that you want. I sought it too. But there is no homeland. It’s gone… But realize this brother. You fly no one’s flag. You’re free to seek your own harbour. And you can do so much more than tread water,”
Page 219
The dramatic and showman-like lectures of Professor Playfair add much charm and colour to this drab world using paints made of words. He shows the children the beauty of what they were there to work on, and the terrible importance of it in the grand scale of things. For you see, translation is a necessary crime that they commit to bring greatness to the world at large. Playfair says, “Betrayal. Translation means doing violence upon the original, means warping and distorting it for foreign unintended eyes. So then where does that leave us? How can we conclude, except by acknowledging that an act of translation is then necessarily always an act of betrayal.” (page 153)
While I have a lot of praise for the writing in this book, it sometimes becomes somewhat grating when Kuang throws subtlety out of the window when showcasing the discrimination present in the world, that makes these characters look like comical big bad evils. These instances can be very immersion breaking, but the rest of the book manages to assuages the problems and makes up a better whole. These few nitpicks are the only problems I have with this novel, but I believe her future works will radically improve upon these blemishes.
The juxtaposition of what we know about the misdeeds of colonialism over the wonderful magic brought into the world by silver-work makes for a masterful story that you can, at times, quite see where it goes, but never predict how it does so. I give it a solid 5/5 recommendation, and it should be a ‘must-read’ for anyone looking for a dense book to sink their teeth into.
