August 1999

Yes, that WAS a cheap joke. I like cheap jokes. Cheap jokes are, well, cheap. This means that they are not expensive, either mentally or pricewise. It's like the whole "How do you catch a lion in the desert?" mathematical joke. If you're a mathematician, it's a rip-snorter of an exchange of wit. If you're not, the joke eludes you entirely. This is because mathematics is a language unto itself.

Another language unto itself is the French language. I mean, this is a language that takes itself sufficiently seriously to deem that before a word is *really* part of the language it must be approved by the Academy in Paris, which consists, if I recall correctly, of a bunch of people who haggle over whether it should be "le hot dog" or "la hot dog". (The real answer, of course, is neither. The truly French word is "le chien chaud").

So that you, the incredibly kind and forgiving reader, may have some understanding of the fine language of French, I thought I would devote part of the rest of this month's column to a primer in the French language, giving you a few well-worded, and incredibly useful, phrases for conversational use. After each phrase, I'll give a translation, and break the phrase down a bit. OK? OK. Here we go.

1) Bonjour. Je m'appelle Alex.
Translation: Good day. I call myself Alex.
Pronunciation: Bone-zhoor. Zhe map-pel Al-eks.
Usage: Standard greeting in high school French when meeting somebody you don't know, although this is such an incredibly stilted way of talking, you'd be stared at really funnily if you actually tried it.

2) Je suis le poisson rouge.
Translation: (a) I am the red fish.
(b) I follow the red fish.
Explanation: Ambiguity is the hallmark of any true language. The first person singular form "suis" is spelled thus both for the verb être (to be) and the verb suivre (to follow). This is one of the unique phrases where it is not immediately evident which meaning is meant. In context, it would be perhaps easier to make sure, but even then, it can be tricky.
Pronunciation: Zhe swee le pwus-son roozhe.
Usage: Standard greeting when encountering Melvan, if for no other reason than it's the only French she knows, and causes her to burst out laughing. Other usages: to confuse the snot out of French-speaking people.

3) "La mort du concierge, il est possible de le dire, marqua le fin de cette période remplie de signes déconcertants et le début d'une autre, relativement plus difficile, où la surprise des premiers temps se transforma peu à peu en panique." (From La Peste, by Albert Camus).
Translation: Left as an exercise for the reader.
Explanation: By now, you should be able to figure this out.
Pronunciation: Ditto.
Usage: It's part of a BOOK, for crying out loud. What do you think its usage is?

*the translator responsible for the third phrase translation has been sacked*

OK. Here's the actual translation of the third phrase, courtesy of me. (You just can't find good help these days...)

"The death of the concierge, it is possible to say, marked the end of this period full of disconcerting signs and the start of another, relatively more difficult, in which the surprise of the first period transformed itself bit by bit into panic."

As for the explanation, it's kind of lengthy. But I think you're pretty sharp, and the observant reader will note that La Peste is available in English translation as The Plague.
The pronunciation, you ask? You *would* ask, wouldn't you?
Here 'tis: La mor doo con-see-airzhe, eel eh pos-seeb-luh de le deer, mar-kwa le fehn de set pair-ee-odd rom-plee de seens dai-con-sair-tant ai le day-boo d'oon oat-ruh, rel-uh-teev-mon ploo diff-ee-seel, oo la soor-preez day prem-yay tom suh trans-form-uh puh a puh on pan-eek.

Usage: To impress snobs who have read Camus. Warning, use of this phrase in the wrong circles may get you branded an existentialist.
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And you thought French was a hard language!

Anyway, that's all the time I have for a French lesson this month. But I'd love to hear your feedback. Who knows, maybe Just Add Water can turn into a multilingual experience every month! Or maybe I can just find some other excuse to throw funky characters into my text file to see if I can make my editor's computer choke. Choking a computer is a lot of fun, actually. It's nearly as much fun as the internet. Although I have to admit there's a couple of things I don't like about the internet.

And before I start launching into a circular article, I think I will stop here, having said enough.