Exophony. Writing in a second language.

 

Merriam-Webster unabridged is to me like that fragrant cup of morning coffee I can't function without. Ironically, the dictionary does not define exophony, which is like the foamy kind of oat milk I choose to color my get-me-going drink with. So what is exophony? Does it savor of distinction and so worth exploring?
I love this notion from a theoretical point of view.
"Exophony describes the phenomenon where a writer adopts a literary language other than his or her mother tongue, entirely replacing or complementing his or her native language as a vehicle of literary expression. The adopted language is typically acquired as an adult: exophonic writers are not bilingual in the sense that they grew up speaking two languages, and indeed do not necessarily achieve the type of spoken fluency associated with the term "bilingualism."(1)
I started to learn English at 17. At 22, I left Italy, and English happened to be the first language I used in foreign territories. It was the means through which I absorbed new skills and the cultural diversities I loved to take in throughout my years of traveling. I later realized I did not adopt a language like a lifetime travel companion. English turned out to be more like a symbolic place where I dwelt and encountered constant transformation. It was the part of me that facilitated my becoming a cosmopolitan man. Eight years later, I abandoned Italian in my creative writing practice. I devoted myself to the language that best communicated my eclectic personality.
It was never easy, and only those of you who share a similar experience can understand. Some years ago, I read out loud one of my early pieces at a writers' meet-up session. I received positive and negative feedback, which is what I wanted. Yet, one person said, "That's brilliant, BUT that's not how we (native speakers) speak."
Ouch. A stab at my vacillating confidence. Was my writing essentially wrong because I did not grow up in an Anglophone country? Anyways, I brushed off my shoulder, since the native speaker, as I got to know, had never heard of Nabokov. He, one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, who happened to write in English, once wrote, "I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child." Modesty aside, not everyone writes the same way they speak.
Only three years ago, and I was 35, I came across the term exophony. It was the Aha! moment. I could finally identify my practice as a writer. I found my voice.
At this point, words of a foreign language became the magnifying lens that allowed me to explore images and emotions I wanted to express in all their details. These words I used no longer had any attachment to a lifetime of subjective and historical connotation. English was not given to me at birth. But I understood the advantage of the transparent accuracy a dictionary provided while learning one by one the tools I kept adding to my vocabulary. I began to accept (and enjoy) the masochistic fact that creating a sentence was a leap into uncertainty. Images and emotions, which were present in my mind yet flowing toward their material component on paper, expanded in a lawless yet creative space where an action of becoming was at play. Choosing the right expression was now a practice that took me through different stages of deconstruction, adjustment, and precision. It was a painful, slow game, yes, but rewarding.
I love the following quote; it bestows upon an inanimate machine the influence a foreign language provides.
"In the mother tongue, words are attached to people so that one cannot playfully enjoy the language. There, the thoughts cling so closely to the words that neither the former nor the latter can fly freely. In a foreign language, however, one has something like a staple remover: it removes all the things that are attached to each other and cling to one another."(2)
So, is exophony worth exploring?
In our society, where, out of necessity or choice, adopting a second or third language has become increasingly common, I believe exophony can play a significant role in multiculturalism. And, to continue, I need to change the point of view and refer to a community of exophonic writers as we.
We made it to straddle on the top of what is considered a barrier among people, and we stand alert upon it with an advantage perspective. The diversity and the life experiences we carry within ourselves bring altering dynamics into a methodical and conventional means of communication. Our voices are an asset at coloring the language of unique hues. Being an exophonic writer means to question provincialism. English is a fluid entity, whether you are a native speaker or not, and exophony a phenomenon that can enhance its power and beauty.

Are you an exophonic writer? How do you feel about your practice? Let me know in the comments below.

Julian Faustini

1 Chantal Wright, in Yoko Tawada's Portrait of a Tongue, 2013.

2 Yoko Tawada