Confessions of an aspiring polyglot.
Balzac is much easier to read than I had imagined. (David Cronin)
For the first time in decades, I recently attended an event that was conducted entirely through Irish.
Called a “pop-up Gaeltacht,” the event was held in The Hague and most of those who came along were Dutch.
That was both intriguing and revealing.
Generations who grew up in Ireland imbibed certain myths and inhibitions about our national language.
The myths and inhibitions have combined to create a frankly scandalous situation in which huge numbers of people cannot speak Irish even though they were taught it at school for 12 years.
If the friendly Dutch folk I met at the “pop-up Gaeltacht” had learned Irish from scratch, then the language is clearly not impossibly difficult.
Bad teachers are often cited as a reason why so many Irish people have poor Irish.
That wasn’t my experience. I had an excellent Irish teacher in high school.
Besides, I think that pinning the blame on individuals misses bigger points.
Our collective reluctance to practice Irish in daily life is probably more symptomatic of a colonized mindset. Domination by the British had left us regarding our indigenous language and culture as antiquated and inferior.
The British sought to suppress the Irish language. Fear of speaking it did not go away when the British left southern Ireland.
It is fascinating that the most vibrant Irish-language activism lately has been in the six northern counties that remain trapped inside a forced marriage with Britain.
Irish is being spoken with pride and defiance in the north of Ireland. Rights that have long been denied are being asserted.
I am as guilty as anyone of monolingual behavior. And, to be honest, I don’t really feel comfortable in any language.
I don’t even regard myself as an articulate speaker of English. My struggle to find the right words remains constant.
Nonetheless, my desire to be multilingual has increased the older I have become.
Over the past eight years, I have enrolled in classes for French and Arabic, taken an online German course, reacquainted myself with Irish and started learning Dutch.
In theory, that means I have a knowledge of six languages, including English. In practice, I wouldn’t claim to be truly fluent in any of them, including English.
My attempts to be multilingual have brought me some amusement: the German for “trendy” is schickimicki. I have also learned a few things.
1. Stubbornness is the key to success
To advance in any language, practice is vital. But finding opportunities to practice can be an ordeal.
When I first moved to Brussels in 1995, one of the few French expressions I knew was où est le Centre de Georges Pompidou ? That was useful for geographical rather than linguistic reasons: it helped me realize I was in the wrong city.
A lot of the Belgians I encountered replied in English whenever I attempted to speak French. To their bemusement, I didn’t let that put me off.
No matter what my interlocutors would say, I kept on butchering the language of Molière and Johnny Hallyday. I am still butchering it in 2026 – the main difference being that I have now passed exams suggesting I speak French at a high level.
Exam results can be deceptive.
2. Duolingo has limits
Over the past few months, I have been doing Dutch exercises every day on Duolingo.
The app regularly reminds me of the word for “turtle” (schildpad) but still hasn’t told me the Dutch translation of “doctor.”
At my age, I am more likely to need an appointment with a doctor than a turtle.
3. Don’t be intimidated by grammar
Grammar is important. But I think it’s better to see grammar more as pieces in a puzzle that you enjoy assembling than rules you will be punished for breaking.
Respect grammar but don’t be intimidated by it.
If you have to spend ages thinking about whether every verb you utter is conjugated correctly, then your opportunities for speaking will be reduced. It’s a little different for writing – there are plenty of tools online nowadays to help you get the grammar right.
Don’t beat yourself up about mistakes. Learn from them.
4. Read books
As soon as you have a reasonable understanding of any language, I’d recommend that you start reading books in it.
Mix things up. I’m not a huge fan of English-language thrillers but I’ve developed a strange penchant for Icelandic detective stories translated into French. During the summer, I devoured one such novel before tucking into Honoré de Balzac’s Mémoires de deux jeunes mariées.
Balzac’s writing is a lot more digestible than I imagined it would be.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand everything.
I have read a few Irish-language books by authors from the provinces of Connaught and Ulster.
A considerable proportion of what they write escaped my comprehension.
Yet I came away enchanted after getting to the last pages. The beauty of their dialects meant that I was never tempted to quit.
Books can bring bliss in any language.