The Last of the Vostyachs by Diego Marani Page A

wind-borne snow. When they had left the shore lights behind, Aurtova noticed that there were stars overhead. This did not help matters; he would have preferred the blizzard of a few hours earlier. Luckily, there was no moon.
    Seated in the darkness, Olga listened to the thrum of the engine and the beating of her own heart. She stared out of the window at the snowy expanse as it loomed up before them in the glow of the headlights.
    â€˜At last we’ll be able to talk a bit, just the two of us. Our meetings have always been so brief, at congresses and conferences. Then we don’t see each other again for years. And to think that we once spent whole days together in the university library! These days I really know nothing about you,’ she said, leaning forward over the seat so as to see Aurtova’s face lit up by the green light of the dashboard.
    â€˜That’s true. We lose touch and years go by in a flash,’ he said with a false sigh.
    â€˜You must admit, it’s amusing that it should be the Samoyeds who always bring us together. Like in that special course we did. Let’s see if you remember the name of the seminar where we first met.’ Olga had placed her elbows on the back of the front seat and Aurtova could feel her breath on his neck.
    â€˜Aha! Now how could I forget that! “Cacuminal fricatives in Proto-Uralic”, by Jove! A theory developed by that madman Collinder!’ came the rejoinder, as Aurtova leant forwards towards the windscreen to put some distance between himself and her unwelcome breath.
    â€˜Well, that’s always been your view. But a lot of us agree with him.’
    â€˜Oh, come on, Olga! That’s all been done to death. Early Proto-Uralic could not originally have had predorsal-gingivals, apico-cacuminals and palatalised liquids all at the same time. What would a pack of hunters have done with three different types of el?’
    â€˜Not that old story again? Then how do you explain the postalveolar liquid found in Nenets, which is a synthesis of all three?’
    â€˜My dear, you know quite well that that’s what’s known as the principle of least effort. The sounds of a language tend to dwindle over time, perhaps because in every area of life men want to do as little as they possibly can. In their heart of hearts, they tend towards immobility, towards silence. Who knows, perhaps one day we’ll all stop talking, and that will truly be the end of the world. Even you know that the older a language is, the more pared down its sounds will have become. The Quechuan languages have only three vowels. Chinese can express extremely elaborate concepts with the sound of just two notes. Take ideograms: originally they were orthographic signs, each brushstroke was pronounced separately. Now they have become petrified. One single ideogram is the equivalent of a whole speech.’
    â€˜What rubbish! The principle of least effort was called into question by Zipf as early as 1935. A sound which you find difficult to pronounce might be quite unproblematical for a Korean. Take nasals: the French wallow in them, but a Finn can’t pronounce them even when he’s got a cold.’
    The shoreline of Vasikkasaari now came into view, with the outline of the cottage visible behind the snowy dunes.
    â€˜What an eerie place! Do you come here a lot?’ asked Olga, peering towards the shadowy shore.
    â€˜I like to come here for the odd weekend. In the summer we use it as a holiday home. Margareeta likes picking berries in the woods, and I like fishing. In the evening we have a barbecue and sit talking in front of the fire. Whereas in winter Margareeta likes to stay in the warm in Helsinki and I come here to work. Solitude and silence, that’s what a scholar needs!’ came Aurtova’s rather too glib reply.
    â€˜I didn’t realise you were so fond of solitude and speculation. There was a time when all your fishing was done in the