Description

"Words and language have their own temperature." Delicate things are often beautiful. And sensitive. Our language is a prime example. In Korean, a single dot or particle can change the nuance of a sentence. When trying to say to a friend, "You have a pretty face," but accidentally saying, "You only have a pretty face," both parties might find themselves blushing. Words and language have their own temperature. The degree of warmth and coldness varies for each. Language with just the right warmth can embrace sadness. When life becomes exhausting, some people share their worries with friends, while others find solace in the words offered by an author in a book. Language that is as hot as a furnace is often filled with emotion. While the speaker may feel cool, the listener can suffer emotional burns. Cold expressions, like ice, are equally precarious. Instead of warming the other person's heart, they can freeze it completely. So, what might the temperature of our language be as we pick up this book? If a careless word caused a precious person to leave, perhaps the 'temperature of words' was too hot. If someone closed their heart due to a line or two, it might be because the 'temperature of writing' was too cold. Perhaps. The author, Lee Gi-joo, enjoys eavesdropping and recording. He confesses that a bad habit kicks in when he gets on a bus or subway. With ears perked up, he listens to the conversations of ordinary people. When a meaningful sentence seeps into his ears, he discreetly jots it down. He believes that the casual exchanges and scribbled sentences carry deep stories. "The Temperature of Language" is a book that richly captures the meaningful words and writings the author discovers in everyday life, the etymology and origins of words, and the preciousness and urgency of such language. As you turn the pages, breathing life into each sentence and savoring it like a moderately hot meal, you may find yourself reflecting on your own 'language temperature.'