As we discussed in "Characterization" and "Style," the role of language crops up all over this tale. That should come as no great shock. Two American sailors (one with a bit of Polynesian vocab tucked in his back pocket) find themselves captive in a remote island valley, thousands of miles from any friends or loved ones. Not only must they figure out a way to express their needs to people who can't understand what they're saying, they're also experiencing the particular isolation and sadness of being misunderstood as a result.
Once Toby flies the coop, it's up to Tommo to rely on his broken local words and intricate miming, just to get along. It becomes clear to him—as he's attended to by a ferocious local healer, made to eat mysterious foods, and unable to rouse enough sympathy to purchase his freedom—that language leads to power over your own fate and others'.
But consider this: in the end, Tommo is the one in control, employing his very fluent English to tell the tale, freezing the narrative in his own point of view—forever.
Questions About Language and Communication
- Does being unable to speak the Typee language fluently put Tommo at a disadvantage?
- How does Marnoo's knowledge of English change Tommo's impression of him?
- Toby doesn't seem to know any Polynesian, while Tommo does. Does this change how each man is treated by the Typee?
- If you're someone who texts or emails a lot (or even just passes a lot of notes), how do you think your relationship with your friends and family would change in the absence of written communication?
Chew on This
Language schmanguage—as Tommo moves from his own world, where he speaks the language, to another world, where he does not, he learns that language is not as essential as he had previously thought.
Because Tommo can't just have a conversation with the Typee, he probably gets a lot of things wrong about life in the valley.