Eva Hoffman uses rich language and succulent description in Lost in Translation: A Life in a New Language. Throughout her piece, Hoffman generously invites us into her magical world of creation, imagination, and transformation that is fabricated with the simple turn of a “yellow” page. Her lavish, fairytale-like descriptions make her literary narrative a tangible reality to the reader when she describes the library as, “…yellowy lit, smoky with dust and respectful whispers, and behind the counters reveals deep, ceiling-tall rows of shelves.”
She is a master in her technique of bringing to life such a dead hobby of modern day adolescents. Hoffman paints a picture of her nights at the library and reading books as if the experience is an extravagant and enchanting trip to the unknown, because to her, it is. She explains the library as if she is taking part in some mythical adventure when she states, “The guardian then quietly vanishes into the cavernous interior, to emerge with a stack of musty, yellow-paged volumes. I open them and sniff their aged smell.” Descriptions such as these are what set Hoffman apart from other writers. An average literary narrative would have read something like, “The librarian walks away into the dark closet to get me an old book.” The difference in description is crucial because the average literary narrative will take the reader to the library in a recognizable fashion; whereas, Hoffman’s literary narrative offers the reader an experience at the library that is stimulating and new. She effortlessly leverages her mundane experience of picking books out at the library in such a way that that the reader can witness an ordinary activity in an exciting way.
Her connection to the audience is undeniable as she revels in the mountain of genres that whisk her away to places of passionate openness that allow her to feel emotions in a vulnerable and unstoppable way. She shares with us her desire to read boarding school novels and her, “… wish to be like them-though I feel regret for giving up, even in my imagination, the titillating possibilities of badness.” Furthermore, she explains an Italian book called Heart, and states, “…and children so filled with pity and kindness that I weep uncontrollable tears over the stories.” She also shares that she feels as if she is “hanging in suspense” after reading Anne of Green Gables. Here, the power of reading has left Hoffman feeling emotions that she seems to be suppressing in her own reality.
As I am taken away into her dream-like state of mind, I cannot help but remain grounded in reality asking myself what her life must be like that she has to use the power of reading to feel these types of feelings and what she must be running from to wish to, “draw [herself] into a trance.”
She is a master in her technique of bringing to life such a dead hobby of modern day adolescents. Hoffman paints a picture of her nights at the library and reading books as if the experience is an extravagant and enchanting trip to the unknown, because to her, it is. She explains the library as if she is taking part in some mythical adventure when she states, “The guardian then quietly vanishes into the cavernous interior, to emerge with a stack of musty, yellow-paged volumes. I open them and sniff their aged smell.” Descriptions such as these are what set Hoffman apart from other writers. An average literary narrative would have read something like, “The librarian walks away into the dark closet to get me an old book.” The difference in description is crucial because the average literary narrative will take the reader to the library in a recognizable fashion; whereas, Hoffman’s literary narrative offers the reader an experience at the library that is stimulating and new. She effortlessly leverages her mundane experience of picking books out at the library in such a way that that the reader can witness an ordinary activity in an exciting way.
Her connection to the audience is undeniable as she revels in the mountain of genres that whisk her away to places of passionate openness that allow her to feel emotions in a vulnerable and unstoppable way. She shares with us her desire to read boarding school novels and her, “… wish to be like them-though I feel regret for giving up, even in my imagination, the titillating possibilities of badness.” Furthermore, she explains an Italian book called Heart, and states, “…and children so filled with pity and kindness that I weep uncontrollable tears over the stories.” She also shares that she feels as if she is “hanging in suspense” after reading Anne of Green Gables. Here, the power of reading has left Hoffman feeling emotions that she seems to be suppressing in her own reality.
As I am taken away into her dream-like state of mind, I cannot help but remain grounded in reality asking myself what her life must be like that she has to use the power of reading to feel these types of feelings and what she must be running from to wish to, “draw [herself] into a trance.”
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