But despite Selin’s close observance of everything happening around her, university life is a foreign language in itself, and one that baffles Selin. Selin is the daughter of Turkish immigrants, and with the hope of becoming a writer, she takes classes in linguistics and Russian. The Idiot focuses on Selin, in her first year at Harvard (it’s set in the mid-nineties, so expect enjoyable details such as the wonder of email, and the jumpy delivery of music via a Discman). I was reminded of that feeling of absolute foreignness when I read Elif Batuman’s oddball novel, The Idiot. Even things as simple as recognising the name of the train station near to where we were staying – I simply couldn’t find a way of retaining any of it. Yes, you’re probably saying ‘Duh’ but despite attempts, I came away with no more Czech than I started with (i.e. When I was in Prague a couple of years ago, I was struck by how completely foreign the language (and alphabet) was.
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