Say What?

Months ago, while discussing Spanish culture with a student, I happened upon a strange phenomenon. I had said something about the siesta, only to see the perplexity spread across my student’s face. “You know, the siesta,” I stated, hoping some repetition would help her see the light. No reaction. “The siesta,” I continued, “The pause they take in the middle of the day, when the shops all close.” A slight glimmer of recognition ensued, but still no dice. Seeing no other alternative, I resorted to French: “La sieste, tu vois?” “Ahhhhhhhhhhh! La sieste!” she replied. Then it was my turn to be perplexed. How could she not make this auditory, or cognitive, leap? To the naked eye, the words differ by just one vowel. And indeed they’re pronounced almost exactly the same. But to her French-attuned ears, the addition of one little syllable rendered the word unrecognizable.

After this incident, I started noticing the phenomenon more and more often. While introducing myself to a new student, I explained that I had worked in marketing for five years before becoming a teacher. Again, a forehead scrunched and mouth agape. “Je travaillais en mar-ket-EENG,” I said, pronouncing the English word the way the French have co-opted it, with the longer-vowel sound and emphasis on the final syllable (a feature of French intonation). “Ahhhhhhhhhhh, mar-ket-EENG!” Vòila. While American friends were in town, they tried to order a broccoli and chevre quiche at a bakery, but were hung up on one pesky word. “Broh-coh-lee,” they repeated over and over, having no luck with the shopkeeper. “Broh-coh-lee, broh-coh-lee, broh-coh-lee,” finally pointing at the troublesome quiche. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh, brrrrrrrrrrchhh-oh-coh-LEEEEE!” Pfew, got it.

Every time this happens, once the French person in question has managed to figure out what the word actually is, he has this “well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” tone of voice that simultaneously bugs me but also kind of cracks me up. Actually, it used to bug me a lot more—I used to think it was a sign of mental slowness. But I’ve come to realize that it’s not that at all, but rather it’s that the French language has a far lower tolerance for mispronunciation than English does. It’s ironic that in French, there’s an identical vowel sound with six different spellings, yet one tiny flub of another vowel or consonant sound can change the word entirely and thus throw off even the sharpest of listeners.

Take it from me, the girl who made a seriously off-color error (but lived to tell the tale). When I first moved here, I had barely two months of French instruction under my belt and was making tentative progress with accurate pronunciation. There were many times when I knew exactly how a word should sound, but it somehow came out wrong. Cut to my first weekend in Paris: N and I are on a fantastic walk around the city, and we pass a news kiosk with a blown-up magazine cover featuring a cat and the triumphant headline, “Vive le chat!” Now, many of you probably know that the final ‘t’ is silent in French. I knew it. But I went ahead and flubbed it anyway. I was in a goofy mood, so I shouted out the headline, but mistakenly pronounced the final ‘t,’ saying, "Vive le chate," which transformed the innocuous “Hail cats!” into a ringing endorsement of the feline-esque synonym for female genitalia. Oops.

All of this is why it’s important to apply 100% precise French pronunciation to English words that have been appropriated into French, no matter how silly this makes you feel. I have cringed every time I’ve ordered a “ahm-boor-ghaire” (hamburger), discussed a new “baste sellaire” (best seller), asked someone for a piece of “schweeng gum” (chewing gum), or explained that a CEO is in fact a “tupp mah-nah-gaire” (top manager). Although as I don’t like the things, I’ve been thankfully spared the inner humiliation of having to ask for a “uht-dugg” (hot dog) at a charcuterie.

It’s funny that native English speakers think you’re a pretentious wanker if you pronounce French expressions accurately when speaking English, hence the ‘raisin debt’ mangling of raison d’être. In French, if you pronounce English words accurately, people simply don’t understand a damn thing you’re saying.