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Babel

Book by R.F. Kuang · 42 quotes · Alternate History, Dark Fantasy, Guilt

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Babel Quotes

“Your brother likes to argue that the Jamaican slave revolt, failed though it was, is what impelled the British to legislate abolition. He's right, but only half right. See, the revolt won British sympathy because the leaders were part of the Baptist church, and when it failed, proslavery whites in Jamaica started destroying chapels and threatening missionaries. Those Baptists went back to England and drummed up support on the grounds of religion, not natural rights. My point being, abolition happened because white people found reasons to care - whether those be economic or religious. You just have to make them think they came up with the idea themselves. You can't appeal to their inner goodness. I have never met an Englishman I trusted to do the right thing out of sympathy.”

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“See, a gun changes everything. It's not just about the impact, it's about what it signals." Griffin ran his fingers over the barrel, then spun around to point the gun at Robin. Robin jumped back. "Jesus-" "Scary, isn't it? Think, why is this more frightening than a knife?" Griffin did not move his arm. "It says I'm willing to kill you, and all I have to do is pull this trigger. I can kill at a distance, without effort. A gun takes all the hard work out of murder and makes it elegant. It shrinks the distance between resolve and action, you see?”

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“She's unbearable sometimes, yes. But she's not trying to be cruel. She's scared she isn't supposed to be here. She's scared everyone wishes she were her brother, and she's scared she'll be sent home if she steps even slightly out of line. Above all, she's scared that either of you might go down Lincoln's path. Go easy other, you two. You don't know how much of her behaviour is dictated by fear.”

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“Anyway', Anthony said ushering them away, 'that's Literature. One of the worst applications of Babel education, if you ask me.' 'You don't approve?' Robin asked. He shared Victoire's delight; a life spent on the fourth floor would be wonderful. 'Me? No.', Anthony chuckled, 'I'm here for silver-working. I think the Literature Department are an indulgent lot, as Vimal knows. See, the sad thing is they could be they could be the most dangerous scholars of them all, because they are the ones who really understand languages - know how they live and breathe or how they can make our blood pump, our skin prickle with just a turn of a phrase. But they are just too obsessed fiddling with their lovely images to bother with how all that living energy might be channelled into something far more powerful. I mean, of course, silver.”

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“Did you know Anthony was a slave?" Letty asked one night in hall. Unlike Victoire, she was determined to raise the issue at every opportunity; indeed, she was obsessed with Anthony's death in a way that felt uncomfortably, performatively righteous. "Or would have been. His master didn't want him freed when abolition took effect, so he was going to take him to America, and he only got to stay at Oxford because Babel paid for his freedom. Paid. Can you believe it?" Robin glanced to Victoire, but her face had not changed one bit. "Letty," she said very calmly, "I am trying to eat.”

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“Looking out over Oxford, Robin had the impression that the whole city was like a finely tuned music box, relying wholly on its silver gears to keep running; and that if the silver ever ran out, if these resonance rods ever collapsed, then the whole of Oxford would stop abruptly in its tracks. The bell towers would go mute, the cabs would halt on the roads, and the townsfolk would freeze in motion on the street, limbs lifted in midair, mouths open in midspeech.”

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“He quashed his memories too. His life in Canton - his mother, his grandparents, a decade of running about the docks - it all proved surprisingly easy to shed, perhaps because this passage was so jarring, the break so complete. He'd left behind everything he'd known. There was nothing to cling to, nothing to escape back to. His world now was Professor Lovell, Mrs. Piper, and the promise of a country on the other side of the ocean. He buried his past life, not because it was so terrible but because abandoning it was the only way to survive. He pulled on his English accent like a new coat, adjusted everything he could about himself to make it fit, and within weeks, wore it in comfort. In weeks, no one was asking him to speak a few words in Chinese for their entertainment. In weeks, no one seemed to remember he was Chinese at all.”

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“You want to do the right thing," said Ramy, bullish. "You always do. But you think the right thing is martyrdom. You think if you suffer enough for whatever sins you've committed, then you're absolved." "I do not-" "That's why you took the fall for us that night. Every time you come up against something difficult, you just want to make it go away, and you think the way to do that is self-flagellation. You're obsessed with punishment. But that's not how this works, Birdie. You going to prison fixes nothing. You hanging from the gallows fixes nothing. The world's still broken. A war's still coming. The only way to properly make amends is to stop it, which you don't want to do, because really what this is about is your being afraid.”

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“He didn't mention the family to Mrs. Piper or Professor Lovell. He didn't want to dwell on the things they represented - the fact that for all of his professed allegiance to revolution, for his commitment to equality and to helping those who were without, he had no experience of true poverty at all. He'd seen hard times in Canton, but he had never not known where his next meal might come from or where he would sleep at night. He had never looked at his family and wondered what it might take to keep them alive. For all his identification with the poor orphan Oliver Twist, for all his bitter self-pity, the fact remained that since the day he had set foot in England, he had not once gone to sleep hungry.”

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“At last Griffin shook his head and said, 'You're lost, brother. You're a ship adrift, searching for familiar shores. I understand what it is you want. I sought it, too. But there is no homeland. It's gone.' His fingers landed on Robin's shoulder, squeezed so hard they hurt. 'But realize this, brother. You fly no one's flag. You're free to seek your own harbour. And you can do so much more than tread water.”

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“The word 'strike', in relation to labour, originally had the connotation of submission. Ships would drop, or strike, their sails when surrendering to enemy forces or saluting their superiors. But when sailors in 1768 struck their sails in protest to demand better wages, they turned 'strike' from an act of submission to a strategic act of violence; by withholding their labour, they proved they were in fact indispensable.”

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“By the time they'd finished their tea, they were almost in love with each other — not quite yet, because true love took time and memories, but as close to love as first impressions could take them. The days had not yet come when Ramy wore Victoire's sloppily knitted scarves with pride, when Robin learned exactly how long Ramy liked his tea steeped so he could have it ready when he inevitably came to the Buttery late from his Arabic tutorial, or when they all knew Letty was about to come to class with a paper bag full of lemon biscuits because it was a Wednesday morning and Taylor's bakery put out lemon biscuits on Wednesdays. But that afternoon they could see with certainty the kind of friends they would be, and loving that vision was close enough.”

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“It's disgusting," Letty said. "Can you believe - I mean, a Babel graduate, and they just act like he was never here?" Her distress belied a deeper terror, a terror which Robin felt as well, which was that Anthony had been expendable. That they were all expendable. That this tower - this place where they had for the first time found belonging - treasured and loved them when they were alive and useful but didn't, in fact, care about them at all. That they were, in the end, only vessels for the languages they spoke. No one said that out loud. It came too close to breaking the spell.”

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