Reading Dictee aroused a feeling similar to that which I often experience while visiting a contemporary art exhibition. Overall, the book, “novel,” or compilation of poetry, prose, and pictures did have a feeling of collage about it—or in this case, bricolage. Structurally, it is a great example of a post-modern novel. It takes a variety of difference forms of written expression and melds them all together to create a larger picture. Verse, narrative, government-type documents, photos, diagrams, sections or photo-copied hand writing, and an invocation of the Greek muses. I found the overlying arc that tied these different things together to be how then functioned as forms of communication. This post will focus chiefly on the way different types of language function within the text.

In it’s entirety I saw this work as being the sum of many distinct parts. (Once again, a sort of collage, or bricolage.) Some parts fit nicely, others seemed more independent and lost, but I don’t doubt for a second that this was all orchestrated very carefully.

Some parts of the writing were fully comprehensible. I was able to understand what the author was trying to convey and was even able to recognize something resembling a plot line.

Some parts were a bit more dense. While I was able to grasp onto some element of Cha’s meaning, I was aware that there was a deeper significance eluding my comprehension. For example, while I could recognize the French poetry as being written in the French language, as someone who doesn’t speak French, I was met with a barrier. Because of some similarities between English and French, I was able to decode some of the words, but nothing substantial enough to formulate any cohesive meaning.

Then there were parts of the work that I found to be completely incomprehensible. I didn’t bother making an attempt at understanding the characters because, not only was I unsure of what language they were, I had no idea how I might even begin to look for a way of translating them. Instead I was left to regard them as mere images, which was incredibly frustrating. While I knew they likely carried profound significance, I was powerless to learn what it was.

A possible explanation for the use of foreign language and non-western writing system—and forgive me if this analysis proves trite—in the author’s desire for her reader to experience sections of this work from the perspective of “the other,” or the outsider. So much of the work examines the concept of speech and person’s voice, ability to make their ideas heard, or freedom to express those ideas in the manner or the specific nature of their choosing. It is possible that Cha inverts this by forcing foreign languages upon her reader.

She imparts ideas on us in the manner of her choice. In doing so, she might be mimicking the sense of disregard shown to the Korean people by the Japanese. While she does offer an English translation of most of her French poetry, there are some instances—unless my drowsy brain is playing with my memory—where she offers no explanation. Could this be her way of attempting to get her readers to understand the position and experience of a group of people who were robbed the ability to speak and communicate in the manner of their choosing—and instead were forced to function in a language that was forced upon them?

It is possible that none of this will make sense to me in the morning—or rather, when I wake up later today.

Nicole