Sophia Smith Galer’s exploration of language loss begins with a poignant personal moment, as she recalls listening to her 93-year-old nonna conversing in al dialët, a regional dialect from northern Italy, with Galer’s mother. Although she understood much of the conversation, the inability to respond in the same language ignited a profound sense of sorrow in her. This feeling, which Galer describes as a “pre-grief,” highlights the deep connection between language and identity, particularly within familial contexts. “My Nonna was a huge influence on my life,” she reflects, underscoring the emotional weight behind language as a vessel of memory and cultural heritage.
This intimate beginning sets the stage for Galer’s new book, “How to Kill a Language,” which delves into the global crisis of language extinction. She masterfully weaves her family’s grief into a broader narrative that examines the implications of language loss worldwide. The book journeys through diverse landscapes, from the Italian diaspora in London to the camel herders of Oman, and from war-torn Ukraine to the revitalization efforts of the Karuk language in California. Each locale reflects not only the rich tapestry of human experience but also the intricate bond between language, identity, and community resilience.
Galer’s approach is both analytical and empathetic; she eschews deterministic phrases that suggest language disappearance is an unavoidable fate. Instead, she employs the term “linguicide,” framing language loss as a deliberate act influenced by power dynamics, governmental policies, social stigma, and neglect. “Languages don’t become endangered of their own accord,” she asserts, posing critical questions about who bears responsibility for this erosion. This perspective urges readers to confront the complex societal structures that contribute to the fragility of minority languages.
One particularly striking encounter occurs in the Dhofar mountains of Oman, where Galer meets Arif, a camel herder who speaks Jibbali, a Semitic language distinct from Arabic. Arif’s assertion that “everyone speaks Jibbali here” offers a snapshot of linguistic security within an isolated community. However, Galer poignantly illustrates the tension between local languages and dominant tongues like Arabic, which permeate public life, education, and employment opportunities, ultimately pulling younger generations away from their ancestral languages. “The more remote someone lives, the more likely it is that their local language may be incubated,” she observes, emphasizing that isolation can both protect and threaten linguistic diversity.
In Ukraine, the stakes of language become alarmingly political, especially in the context of the ongoing conflict with Russia. Galer recounts the story of Oryna, a woman whose dual identity is marked by her names in Ukrainian and Russian—an emblem of the cultural turmoil that has forced her to abandon her Russian name in favor of her Ukrainian identity, reflecting a visceral reaction to the war. “For most people, certainly for me, the idea of changing your name is incomprehensible,” Galer notes, highlighting the emotional turbulence that accompanies such a shift.
The psychological impacts of language loss echo throughout Galer’s narrative, as she illustrates the painful choices imposed by state policies, such as those experienced by Kurds in Turkey, who have been compelled to adopt non-Kurdish names due to official prohibitions. “One of the many cruelties of linguicide is how it forces these kinds of choices on people,” she explains, revealing the human cost of cultural suppression.
Yet, amidst these challenges, Galer also illuminates paths toward hope and revival. The story of Maymi, a Karuk mother in Northern California, serves as a beacon of resilience. Despite not growing up fluent in her Indigenous language, she embraced her cultural heritage during pregnancy, leading her to study and speak Karuk with her children. “Raw, grassroots willpower is what protects languages alongside institutional infrastructure,” Galer emphasizes, suggesting that community-driven efforts, bolstered by recognition and funding, can foster linguistic vitality.
In the closing passages of her book, Galer confronts the implications of her grandmother’s passing on her understanding of language and identity. “A language is the way your parents spoke to you; it is every memory of your childhood,” she writes, emphasizing that the loss of a language encompasses far more than linguistic rules; it signifies the erasure of personal histories, familial connections, and cultural legacies. “We lose far more than a bunch of grammar rules and words when we lose a language,” she poignantly concludes, reminding readers that the fight against linguicide is not merely about preserving vocabulary but about safeguarding the very essence of who we are.
Reviewed by: News Desk
Edited with AI assistance + Human research
