Laurie J. Marks

The Light Fantastic

On Reading and Writing Fantasy


Reading the Neuspepa with Rosemary

This weekend, Rosemary Kirstein drove from Connecticut to Massachusetts in the rain, and I served her fajitas.  After eating—it was delicious—we walked in the downpour with Seri, the corgi, whose aversion of rain was overpowered by her love of walks.  I became wet from thigh to toes, and Seri became wet all over.  Rosemary, who has never had a dog, was amused when, after arriving home, I dropped a towel on top of Seri, who patiently waited for a human to rub her dry.  A cat would not tolerate such treatment, but then cats rarely get this wet. 

Rosemary has been my writing friend for some 25 years, and I had read her first book, The Steerswoman, when it was published, long before Deb and I moved from California to Massachusetts.  Rosemary and I talked about my planned revision of the first draft of my book and I told her about issues I’ve had with writing in the Rubbisher dialect, which uses only the present tense and has no complex verbs.  I’ve found it difficult to communicate significance and immediacy of action, such as in this sentence: “You must do that right away.”  This utterance implies the future, emphasizes importance of immediate action, and includes a complex verb: “must do.”  There’s a lot going on in this five-word sentence, and I find it difficult to convey something similar within the parameters of the dialect.

Tok Pisin

Rosemary said that she occasionally reads a newspaper of Papua New Guinea, Wantok Neuspepa which is in the Tok Pisin creole.  (A creole is a language that began as a pidgin—a simplified language that bridges between two languages, often used by members of an occupied culture to communicate with members of the occupying culture.  Over time, the pidgin becomes established as a native language, a creole.)  Tok Pisin (“bird talk”) is a creole based on English, and attempting to read it is engrossing because it seems like it should make sense and yet it doesn’t, as if seen through a distorting lens.  Reading it out loud makes it somewhat more comprehensible.  We spent an engrossing half hour while Rosemary read out loud and attempted to translate a couple of paragraphs into standard English.  I was reminded of the time one of my professors read a portion of The Canterbury Tales, and it sounded like German:

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licóur

Of which vertú engendred is the flour…

Rosemary read: National Weather Service (NWS) bilong PNG i tok ‘La Nina’ bai kam klostu nau tasol i no gat wanpela toksave i kam long gavman yet long wanem samting ol bai mekim o sapos ol i redi long wanem kain ol hevi dispela taim nogut bai nap long bringim.

What I understood: La Nina is having some sort of impact on Papua New Guinea weather.  I looked up a couple of words using a translator: “long gavman” is the seat of government, while “long wanem” means either “because” or “why.”

Rosemary read: Presiden bilong Amerika (USA), Joe Biden bai no inap kam long Papua Niugini.  Toksave i kam long ‘White House’ long Tunde dispela wik, i tok olsem dispela raun bilong Mista Biden i go long PNG na Australia nau bai no inap kamap.

What I gathered: President Biden isn’t coming to Papua New Guinea.  Also, “bilong” means from or of.?

Update: Meanings and uses of “bilong”
 
https://www.tok-pisin.com/search-results.php?q=bilong&select=tokpisin&Submit=go
 
I especially like “Dewel bilong man i dai” = Devil belong man he die = ghost. And “Dewel bilong man” = Devel belong man = Shadow. And “Gras bilong dok” = Grass belong dog = fur, while “Gras bilong pisin” = grass belong bird = feather.
 
Bilong is one powerful word!

Email from Rosemary Kirstein

Rosemary, whose nerdiness I have long appreciated, pointed out that the limited vocabulary of a creole leads to convoluted utterances.  She suggested I use “big” as an emphasizer—size becoming a metaphor for importance.  And she suggested a phrase to indicate immediacy, close to now.  So my revised statement, “You must do that right away.” would become, “You big do that close to now.”

“Close to now” works and I will add it to my other time signifiers, “before yesterday” and “after tomorrow.”  But “big” doesn’t convey the right meaning, perhaps because it’s so connected to size that it won’t function as an abstract modifier.  Perhaps “very much” would do the job: “You very much do that close to now.”  It is convoluted and mildly alien, and I think the intended meaning comes through.

A watercolor sketch of my protagonist, Painter, looking suitably stressed.

Another darned hurricane

Under influence of Hurricane Ophelia, it has continued to rain today, leading to a one-day postponement of roof construction.  Tonight one of my ukulele clubs is meeting, and why (tell me why) are we playing “Waitin’ and Hopin’”?  I’m new to this group, but surely I’m not the only one in whom that song induces nausea.  Tomorrow will be a running-around day, first to drop Seri at the kennel, and then to drive Deb to a medical appointment.  I’ll carry a chapter with me and begin revisions, but Wednesday will be my first full day of revising.

In upcoming blogs I’ll offer before-and-after examples of revised text, with commentary.  Sign up for the mailing list, below!

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