More that two years ago, on Friday 29 January 2010, I wrote the first post of The Joy of Languages, which was entitled
The journey begins...
Nothing lasts forever. It's time for this journey to come to an end. And this time, to really end.
So I will finish that sentence
... and the journey ends.
I've essentially already gone through several cycles of this blog. Ending it and starting it again, revisiting each of the major
international auxiliary languages several times in a desperate and frustrated attempt to make one of them work for me as a writer and as a reader, for the purposes of creating and enjoying sophisticated works of literature, only to find in the end that the language other than English in which it is now by far the easiest for me to read literature is French!
Something is badly wrong here. After devoting more than two years of my life to the serious study of constructed
auxlangs, they were all outperformed by a complicated and difficult natural language, French, which despite its enormous difficulty for the writer is relatively easy for the reader.
Since I'm a novelist and my intention all along has been to find some auxlang in which I could write novels which supposedly would have been easier for people around the world (for example, in China) to read than reading the equivalent novel in English, that is not a great result.
It has been a bizarre discovery for me to have found, without any doubt, that French is much easier for me to read than any constructed or planned language. The reason is mostly because either an auxlang is too difficult to read, having an exhausting and unnatural grammar (such as Esperanto, which seems mechanical and also very unsatisfying stylistically) or because it is too ambiguous due to being naturalistic but lacking important features of the natural languages from which it was derived which (although difficult for the writer) supply precision for the reader which makes it much easier to comprehend sophisticated literary texts without confusion (a good example here is that French is hugely
easier to read than Interlingua after a few years of study of both).
So, what have I learned from all this? A surprising fact:
Being easier to speak or easier to write does not make a language easier to read. On the contrary, generally speaking it seems the usual result is that this makes a language more difficult to read.
Auxlangs are primarily designed to be easier to speak and easier to write than natural languages, because they are designed for active use in everyday, general-purpose communication. They are not primarily designed for writing sophisticated works of literature. That is, they are not primarily artistic. And, here's the clue: literature is art. Reading literature is experiencing art.
So, I've been barking up the wrong tree for the past two years. Failing to understand that ease of writing does not equal ease of reading, I've been focussing my attention on auxlangs (which, on this blog, is a term I use to mean
constructed international auxiliary languages) which were, in fact, never going to deliver what I was looking for, which was ease of reading sophisticated works of literature; and not just ease of reading but also having robust artistic merit and richness.
I'm not saying that worthwhile works of literature cannot be written in Esperanto or Interlingua, for they surely can and surely have been; but I am saying that it is utterly ridiculous to me that they are more difficult to read than French. I'm just not interested in pursuing them, given that fact.
So, the destination of this blog, the end point, is that I've realised that what I'm looking for is not an auxlang at all. I'm looking for an
artlang. I'm trying to create internationally accessible
art.
My attempts to work around the problem by creating an auxlang of my own invention were similarly barking up the wrong tree, because firstly (as I wrote in my
previous post) it is completely impractical for one person alone to create a modern auxlang suitable for global use in the twenty-first century (such a project requires a team of at least twenty people) and secondly because a typical auxlang is not in fact what I should be looking for. I should be looking for an
artlang, one which is reasonably easy to
read but also highly expressive and beautiful for literary use. A key feature of such an artlang would be that it is more difficult to speak and to write than most auxlangs, but easier to read (that is, for the purposes of reading sophisticated works of literature rather than merely simple texts).
If the above seems preposterous then imagine the following: suppose that French did not exist as a natural language. Some brilliant group of inventors then invents a language exactly like French, calls the language
la langue de la littérature (
LdL) and declares it to be an artlang. The world has never, in this hypothetical scenario, seen French before, but suppose that Esperanto exists. Esperantists would look at
LdL and declare it to be so absurdly difficult to write that it could never be a viable auxlang; they would laugh at it and say it is ridiculous to think that anybody, for example in Australia, would be able to or wish to learn to read literature in such a difficult language. Then along would come me, a monolingual English-speaking Australian, and I would spend a couple of years trying to learn Esperanto and trying to learn
LdL. I would give up on Esperanto several times, finding it incredibly frustrating. I
would be able to speak and write simple sentences fairly easily in Esperanto. I would find
LdL very difficult but would keep studying it. I would
not be able to speak and write in
LdL to any very significant degree, because doing so is much more difficult than it is in Esperanto. Nevertheless, I would to my great surprise discover that it is much easier to
read sophisticated literature in
LdL than in Esperanto, because the former is far more precise and far less ambiguous. This is definitely not preposterous because this is exactly what happened in my journey.
I studied auxlangs for two years and ended up choosing French as my preferred second language for the purpose of reading sophisticated works of literature, partly because it was the easiest.
Now, the interesting thing about this outcome is that an artlang (although not one as massive as French) is quite possible for one single writer to create, and there is an established historical precedent for doing so (for example,
Tolkien). Also, people will gladly read short passages or dialogue written in such artlangs, as seen in
blockbuster movies,
television series, or
best-selling novels, whereas few people will gladly read literature written in any auxlang.
So, my journey is over. This blog has ended. I'm finished with auxlangs (at least until such time as a better auxlang, suitable for the twenty-first century, matures or is invented, which will probably require a major project over a decade or so by at least twenty dedicated professionals; when I say "matures", a good example here is
Lingwa de Planeta, which shows potential for the future).
I remain interested in writing in constructed languages, but the constructed languages in which I write will be artlangs rather than auxlangs. But such a massive and fundamental change in my approach deserves a new blog, or perhaps even a new book, and does not belong here.
I am currently working on the creation of an artlang and might also possibly be interested in writing in
Sambahsa, which in my opinion is arguably better classified as an artlang rather than an auxlang, which explains why it managed to somewhat hold my interest right to the end of this journey.
I would like to very sincerely thank everyone who has commented on this blog and especially those very generous people who have assisted me at length in my endeavours here and elsewhere.
Now at the end of the journey, I will close with what Hemingway described as probably one of the finest words in the entire English language: farewell.
Robert Winter
Brisbane, Australia
May 2012