I was just reading Carol Palmer’s translation (pdf, Google cache) of Vladimir Lakshin’s courageous 1968 Novy Mir article “Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita” (which not only treated the novel, banned until only a year earlier, as a masterpiece, but mocked the “professors of literature” who resisted its reinstatement), and I hit the following description of the book’s wild variety of characters:
People in contemporary jackets and ancient tunics, in caps and in golden helmets with plumes, people with briefcases under their arms and with lances atilt, people of various epochs and ages, professions and circumstances: a writer, a bookkeeper, a house manager, the Procurator of Judea, a high priest, a centurion, the Variety Theater’s barman, a master of ceremonies, a railway conductor, a literary critic, Roman soldiers, robbers, martyrs, civil servants, actors, administrators, doctors, waiters, housewives, detectives, cab drivers, ticket takers, policemen, vendors of carbonated water, members of the management of a housing cooperative, editors, nurses, firemen—it is hardly possible to name them all. And yet the main characters have not been mentioned here, nor those whom one hesitates to call dramatis personae—the Devil and his retinue, witches, corpses, water nymphs, demons of all aspects and of every stripe, and finally an enormous talking car with a cavalry mustache.
If you haven’t read the novel, I imagine you’d hardly raise your eyebrows at the final item in the list; if the devil and witches and water nymphs, why not a talking, mustachioed car? But if you have, you know “car” is a mistake for “cat.” (Astonishingly, the mistake has not been fixed in the online version; has no one noticed it in the last 30-odd years? The original of the section following the final em dash is “дьявол и его свита, ведьмы, покойники, русалки, демоны и черти всех видов и мастей и, наконец, огромный говорящий кот с кавалерийскими усами.”)
Oh, you’ve just gotta love that cat:
‘Imagine I’m sitting here,’ Anna Richardovna recounted, shaking with agitation, again clutching at the bookkeeper’s sleeve, ‘and a cat walks in. Black, big as a Behemoth. Of course, I shout “Scat!” to it. Out it goes, and in comes a fat fellow instead, also with a sort of cat-like mug, and says: “What are you doing, citizeness, shouting ‘scat’ at visitors?”‘
[And the game of chess:]
‘The situation is serious but by no means hopeless,’ Behemoth responded. ‘What’s more, I’m quite certain of final victory. Once I’ve analysed the situation properly.’
He set about this analysing in a rather strange manner — namely, by winking and making all sorts of faces at his king.
It just points up Bulgakov’s lack of imagination — surely a Soviet car (a ZAZ or VAZ) would be much more sinister than a mere cat.
“My Mother the Car”?
Or that SCTV parody of 3CP1 with “Tibor’s Tractor” (where Nikita Khrushchev was reincarnated as the title character)?
I am reminded of a Barnes & Noble book called Russian for Beginners, which contained the most improbable phrases you ever heard: My favorite was this one:
No one knew how many cats granny had.
“No one knew how many cats granny had”
Admit it! You only included that so that someone (lucky me!) could link to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASG6r9rhwcE
Apparently crazy cat ladies aren’t a North American monopoly….
I have grave doubts about the truth value of that story. While “Nina Kotova” is a valid Russian name (there is a violinist of that name), the fact is that Kotov is based on кот (kot), which means “cat.” And the Russian media has no hint of this story; the few blogs that mention “136 cats” all link to this video.
Could it not be an aptronym? (Not a serious question; your doubt is enough for me.)
I’m thinking of rereading M&M. If there is more than one translation, which is best?
I’m thinking of rereading M&M. If there is more than one translation, which is best?
I have grave doubts about the truth value of that story … And the Russian media has no hint of this story
Just found it: her name’s actually Kostsova (Косцова). See here and here.
I’m thinking of rereading M&M. If there is more than one translation, which is best?
I can only read the English, but for whatever it’s worth, I prefer the Pevear and Volokhonsky to the Ginsburg.
And though I obviously can’t read those articles, I’m glad to know that story is true!
My favourite Hungarian textbook refers constantly to “vowel hamrony”. It seems so appropriate; I grew to love intoning “hamrony” as if it were a Hungarian word. (You have to be a little obsessed, of course.)
JE
I like the Michael Glenny translation best. It has some goofs in it, but I think it captures the voice and tone of the original best. For what it’s worth, it’s the translators’ choice (ie I know four literary translators who prefer it).
Enjoy. It’s a great book.
Noetica, what is your favorite Hungarian textbook?
Jamessal and Mark, you’re actually lucky not to be able to read those articles. One’s entitled “hairy pussies”.
Sredni: Shhh! We don’t mention Mark around here…
My aptronym link was wrong: http://www.good.is/post/what%E2%80%99s-in-a-name-sometimes-a-job/
Just found it: her name’s actually Kostsova (Косцова).
Aha! Thanks, Ray.
I am in turn reminded of a c.1990 Kellogg’s TV ad of a woman struggling with a Serbo-Croatian linguaphone tape, repeating sentences like “I will be unable to attend the wild pig hunt” and “The last train left three days ago”. It wasn’t very funny at the time, but still less in the light of what happened to Serbo-Croatian shortly thereafter.
Marc Rosenfelder has a nice list of improbable phrases found in phrasebooks. My favorites:
“Can you take me to the minefields?”
“Let it be well rubbed with a rag.”
“Must I swallow them whole?”
“Is your husband here?”
http://www.zompist.com/thought.html
Completely second-hand (from a source that combined reputable and irreputable characteristics).
From a Quechua phrasebook written by someone who wanted anyone foolish enough to use it to get into deep, deep trouble.
In one scenario there are things to say when meeting “an important person”. What the Quechua really says (as opposed to the translation) is (working from memory here): “I’m tired and lost, I don’t like it here. I want to leave.”
The best though was what you supposed to say to “the wife of an important person”. A Quechua scholar swore that the literal translation was: “My inner fibers twitch for you, my little hummingbird.”
JR: “improbable phrases”: “Is your husband here?”
In most circumstances a man would be unlikely to be asked this question, but many men might like to learn how to ask it. Many women will recall having been asked this question, and I would hope that the phrasebook provided a suitable reply (or choice of replies).
Two of my favourites (from a very old European phrasebook):
(at a party) Etes-vous la reine de ce pays? “Are you the queen of this country?” (which I quoted some time ago).
(request to a hotel manager) Envoyez-moi un pédicure et un dentiste “Send me a pedicurist and a dentist”.
A Quechua scholar swore that the literal translation was: “My inner fibers twitch for you, my little hummingbird.”
Hmmm. My nipples explode with delight.
my favourite phrase in Japanese is “maa maa maa maa maa” means like well well well
the intonation is very important it’s up up flat flat down
can be used in all kinds of situations, i usually end it with ii deshyo
Two of my favourites (from a very old European phrasebook) … (at a party) Etes-vous la reine de ce pays?
Lovely anecdote though this is, this looks like a leakage from a grammar text rather than a phrasebook: see Etes-vous la reine de ce pays. Even so, looks like someone having a surreal joke … or maybe not, and this grammar book is in a rather bizarre world. See adjacently: “Did he find his purse?” … “He thinks that the tower of the church has fallen. Is he sure of it?” … “You have no book. I will lend you one.” … “The river is rapid and the current of it is strong. Do not expose him to it.”
This is from French Course Grammar by TH Bertenshaw. WTF was going through the brain of Thomas Handel Bertenshaw, even in c. 1890 when he wrote this?
RG: Lovely anecdote though this is, this looks like a leakage from a grammar text rather than a phrasebook
I assure you that my examples are from a very old phrasebook, which must have come into our family from my great-grandfather (born circa 1865), who may have bought it secondhand. The book (quite worn in appearance) is still in my family, but I am too far from them to check the date and author. When I was young we used to have fun reading the book aloud, which is why I still remember some sentences.
It is possible that Bertenshaw took some of his examples from that phrasebook, rather than the opposite, as many of the conversation samples were indeed bizarre, even granting that they reflected an earlier way of life (unless Bertenshaw was also the author of the phrasebook? then the grammar could have been a companion to the phrasebook).
Another example I remember is:
Il me faut des chaussures – en avez-vous de toutes faites? Montrez-m’en plusieurs paires de différentes grandeurs
“I need some shoes – do you have ready-made ones? Show me several pairs in different sizes.”
The phrasebook seemed to be directed at upper-class English people travelling in Europe (not just in France), hiring servants locally, dealing imperiously with guides and hotelkeepers, and also socializing with the highest stratum of local society.
Marie-Lucie:
Envoyez-moi un pédicure et un dentiste
A perfectly reasonable inclusion in a phrasebook, considering how easily we can get a foot jammed in a mouth. “A légpárnás hajóm tele van angolnákkal”, remember.
My favourite Hungarian textbook? Thank you! I’ve never been asked before. It’s Learn Hungarian, by a trio of likely Budapestniks. Sweet blend of linguistic rigour and traditional illustration-and-folksong asides. Farm animals and cartoons, too. Recommended, especially for its treatment of vowel hamrony. I wish I had the time to roam its 500+ pages once more, and this time emerge well-versed in magyarity.
The Lonely Planet Hindi phrasebook used not to include how to say yes or no. A warning to us all. (Yes, I know: there is not always a single-word equivalent for either. Never mind that.)
From Ray’s, I like the simple ‘Etes-vous reine? Je le suis.’ It could have been taken from Alice.
Your hovercrafts are full of eels.
One of these days I’m actually going to buy the Ionesco-Benamon textbook. Not expensive last time I saw it.
Your hovercrafts are full of eels.
One of these days I’m actually going to buy the Ionesco-Benamon textbook. Not expensive last time I saw it.
… the Ionesco-Benamon textbook
¿Qué?
My favourite Hungarian textbook? Thank you! I’ve never been asked before. It’s Learn Hungarian, by a trio of likely Budapestniks. Sweet blend of linguistic rigour and traditional illustration-and-folksong asides. Farm animals and cartoons, too. Recommended, especially for its treatment of vowel hamrony. I wish I had the time to roam its 500+ pages once more, and this time emerge well-versed in magyarity.
Yes, that’s my Hungarian textbook as well, and I can attest to its excellence. I really should have another crack at it; I only worked up a half-assed acquaintance with the language before seeing a shiny thing and getting distracted.
Mise en train. Absurdist example sentences by Ionesco.
Mise en train. Absurdist example sentences by Ionesco.
From Amazon: “Mise en train” Did you mean: mouse on train?
Mice on a Train was the less effective sequel to Snakes on a Plane.
Amazon: mouse on train
Language: mice on a train
Don’t panic, Language.
@ noetica:
“The Lonely Planet Hindi phrasebook used not to include how to say yes or no. A warning to us all”
For “yes or no or whatever”, there’s the famous head wiggle.
A problem for people with clearcut opinions on food is, at least in their 3rd edition of their Hindi, Urdu and Bengali phrasebook, the errors on p. 111, where “I’d like it with …” is given as “… without …”
And I don’t like their Urdu font. For a person not in perfect command of Urdu, or with just slightly impaired vision, the minimal difference between a medial ‘h’ and a medial ‘b’ is a pain.
I only worked up a half-assed acquaintance with the language before seeing a shiny thing and getting distracted.
Ah, me too. With so many languages. I bet many here could tell a similar story. Still, we retain the breadth if not the depth.
Lugubert:
We want to grab them by the shoulders for a good shaking, don’t we? So many badly conceived and badly executed phrasebooks in the world. I knew the founders of Lonely Planet way back when it was all done from their spare room. Studied at La Trobe University alongside the lovely Maureen Wheeler. I’ve been meaning to renew the acquaintance over the years, if only to ask why they favoured some nonce-romanisation over pinyin, in earlier editions of their Mandarin offering. But it’s been rectified in the meantime.
I knew that Kevin S was trying to sell me something.
Envoyez-moi un pédicure et un dentiste
Noetica: A perfectly reasonable inclusion in a phrasebook, considering how easily we can get a foot jammed in a mouth.
OF course! I had not thought of this interpretation (which is not used in French). What used to make us laugh was imagining these two persons arriving at the same time to service the lady who had summoned them, one working on her head, the other one on her feet.
WTF was going through the brain of Thomas Handel Bertenshaw, even in c. 1890 when he wrote this?
Also in a French-only grammar of just about the same time by Auguste Brachet. Perhaps they have a common source?
It looks like the Bertenshaw grammar may be nothing more than an English translation (keeping all the French examples) of the Brachet grammar. The type even looks the same.
The link (thank you MMcM) shows a digitized version of B’s 1889 edition, and there are errors on the site page, eg Marhier for Marmier, Bodtet for Boutet (names I am familiar with). The list of keywords is weird too.
improbable phrases found in phrasebooks
I’m particularly fond of “Mae’r holl arwyddion wedi’u tynnu i lawr”; presumably the English-language ones are meant.
And quite right too. Can’t have the English finding their way about around here. Keep ’em guessing!
That sentence is quoted and translated here, for those who have not the Welsh. (I note that arwydd is said to be from Proto-Celtic *ɸarewēdyom, derived from *wēd- ‘to know’; compare Old Irish airde.)
The silly phrasebook phrases above reminded me of one of the funniest things I’ve ever read. In language classes in college, we headed to a library basement to listen to tapes and repeat phrases, which would be played back so we could hear and adjust our pronunciation. The Harvard Lampoon ran a piece called Basement Tapes — a record review of the language lab tape for French 1.
The phrase that stuck with me, which wasn’t necessarily the funniest was roughly this
Lyrics arrive in a slow and majestic rhythm:
L’homme marche
Dans la soupe du jour.
But the closing line was magic.
“The group also employs a pleasant and effective use of background hiss over time, reminiscent of Radio Shack’s monumental Tape Head Demagnetizer album of 1979.”
I nearly choked with laughter. Probably no one under 50 today can even get the joke.
Tape Head Demagnetizer album of 1979
Woe is me! All my bootleg cassettes from that era unspooled themselves and strangled the tape head. Bloody Alan Sugar!
Kids these days don’t even recognise a CD. Although it seems vinyl is making something of a recherché comeback.
I’m under 50, and I don’t get it.
That was a hipster thing, i.e. so 2010s.
2010 was last Friday. I’m over 50, and I got the joke when I was told it was there and did a second take.
That was a hipster thing, i.e. so 2010s.
It looks like it has spread beyond the hipster segment…
Cassette tape players would apparently become magnetized in some way that compromised sound quality. Maybe, or maybe that was just a way to sell solutions. Radio Shack was the primary audio chain store in those days, and they sold a cassette tape called a tape head demagnetizer, that you would put in your player and then push play, and it would spool through and apparently do something that made your cassettes sound better.
So there was a tape head demagnetizer album, in a sense. But the idea of treating it as a musical work that exerted influence on the musical output of other artists such as the one who recorded the French 1 tape was hilarious to me.
And poor quality cassettes did have background hiss. Treating this as a musical element on something that was really just a utility tool also seemed pretty funny.
tape head demagnetizer
Never heard of that before… I assume that’s not what I know as cleaning tape, a textile tape that you would put a cleaning liquid on and run through the recorder to clean the heads?
That makes sense, thanks!
That, on the other hand…
Oh, I thought the demagnetizer album would be an LP record. That sounds unlikely for several technical reasons. The actual demagnetizers were little circuits built into cassette shells, or in some cases mechanical setups moving permanent magnets around, powered by the tape deck’s motor. They generated magnetic fluxes 100 times greater than what an actual tape was able to, so calling them albums is a bit misleading.
We had an analogous cleaning tape for our VCR. I think it was supposed to both physical clean and de-Gauss the machine. I can’t say precisely how it worked it how well, except that it genuinely did improve the video quality for tapes than were worn and had tracking problems.
@Hans tape head demagnetizer
Never heard of that before… I assume that’s not what I know as cleaning tape,
No no no, quite different. A cleaning tape is a spool of some whitish fabric. You typically apply some solvent to it then ‘play’ the cassette. When the fabric gets discoloured (a grubby oxide-like colour) you get a fresh one.
A demagnetizer … oh I’ll let wikip tell you. Also called degaussers.
tsk tsk yoof these days.
calling them albums is a bit misleading
I’ll say. Everyone knows that an album is a binder containing multiple 78 rpm discs, enough to cover a longer piece.
>so calling them albums is a bit misleading
Yes, but that was the essence of the joke. In a 1985 context everyone knew it wasn’t really an album, but it was funny to treat it as one.
Keep in mind that while album could refer to a vinyl LP, it was what you called the collection of 8-15 songs, usually by the same group or artist, as released on the vinyl LP. You didn’t literally call a cassette an album, but you did call the collected work an album.
REM’s Murmur was their “debut studio album” regardless of whether you owned it on an LP record or cassette.
So calling it the Tape Head Demagnetizer album, despite all readers knowing it was a tape, underlined that you were considering it a work of art.
David M, in case you’re still here, and since I don’t know where else to put this. You seem like the best person to ask.
I sometimes read scholarly articles to learn about the wildflowers in our garden. While I’m really looking for interesting bits of their ecology, occasionally, I run into things that are much more technical, describing cytotypes and “chromosome diversity,” and I don’t know what to make of it. I wondered whether you might offer me some insight. For instance:
>On the basis of chromosome numbers from more than 1,000 individuals of Claytonia virginica L. (Portulacaceae) throughout its range, a complex evolution of major cytotypes is discussed in relation to distribution and morphology. Chromosomal diversity is thought to have evolved from a base of n – 6 by hyperaneuploidy to n 7 and 8 with each race giving rise to widespread and dominant primary tetraploids (n 12, 14, 16). These in turn, and largely by hypoaneuploidy, formed many secondary tetraploid races, the most significant of which are n = 11 and 15. Higher polyploids from 6x to 12x where x = 6, and 6x and 8x where x = 7 are also discussed.
I can certainly follow the idea that you can sort out lineages this way.
But generally, this just doesn’t seem like any way to run a species. Can an n=16 specimen pollinate an n=7 specimen? Is the same genetic material simply dividing into more chromosomes, or are some of these duplicate chromosomes. Generally, what is happening here? And why is it successful?
I haven’t actually plowed through articles solely devoted to polyploidy, but sometimes there are references in articles with other main subjects, and I feel like once or twice I read of differing fitness between different levels of polyploidy. How does that work? Are there other genetic changes immediately associated with polyploidy, or is it just that the new lineage inevitably develops changes over time? Or do the same genes work differently when there are more of them and/or they’re on separate chromosomes?
OMFG (ie, the English tetragrammaton):
>Before proceeding with a discussion of major cytotypes two phenomena will be noted briefly. These include aneusomaty, i.e. variation of chromosome number intra-individually, which was found by Lewis et al. (1967) in the St. Louis area and earlier in eastern Texas (Lewis, 1962).
If chomosome diversity doesn’t seem like a good way to run a species, it definitely doesn’t sound like a good way to run a single specimen.
We’ve had one spring beauty in our yard for several years, whether a leftover of a previous owner’s native plant effort, a seed carried in by an animal, or maybe even a solitary remnant from the development of the neighborhood 100 years ago, though that seems doubtful. Finally last year, I bought and scattered some seeds to give it company, and some spring beauty are now popping up. It’ll be pretty funny to me if the new plants aren’t reproductively compatible with the old.
A demagnetizer … oh I’ll let wikip tell you. Also called degaussers.
Thanks for the link. And that really is nothing I’ve ever seen or heard of before, although I knew people who were into all kinds of audio gadgetry back when tape recorders still were a thing.
(I actually still have 3 pieces of equipment with tape decks at home, but my old tapes won’t play on any of them; the tape doesn’t move when I put it in. The recorders turn when I switch them on without tape, and the tapes move when I turn them with a pen, but it doesn’t work when I put them into the recorder.)
I’m not up to speed on the weird & wonderful things plants do, but the limiting factor is the part of meiosis when the chromosomes line up and cross over before they’re pulled apart. Mergers and splits are not enough to make this impossible; one chromosome on one side can line up with two on the other if it’s otherwise close enough to identical to them. Wild boars often have different numbers of chromosomes in the same population.
Unusual numbers of copies of the same chromosome in a single cell are a different matter. The expression of many genes depends on how many copies of the gene there are (often it’s as simple as “twice as many copies, twice as much product”), so having too many can be a problem. What that means varies – in humans, trisomy 21 is famous, trisomies (or even more proliferation) of X or Y are no big deal*, two or three other trisomies are survivable in very rare cases, and the others, as well as full triploidy, are invariably lethal in early fetal stages.
The same holds for having too few copies; plus, diploidy is to some extent a protection against the effects of having a broken copy of a gene. (Apparently we all have around ten mutations that would be lethal if we didn’t lack them on the other chromosome.) So, the monosomies are even worse than the trisomies. Turner syndrome (one X, no Y) is sometimes survivable in humans, though.*
Full even-number polyploidy seems to have somewhat different effects, though; that’s where the correlation of cell size to the amount of DNA kicks in. There is a tetraploid rodent out there; whole-genome duplications also underlie the origin of bony vertebrates and the origin of teleost fish. Many plants have extra-large cells somewhere (for example “hairs”) and achieve this by polyploidy in those cells (easily 32 copies of each chromosome).
So… Claytonia takes everything I know on this subject and turns it up to 11 or 12 or 13, but there probably aren’t any miracles going on, I think.
* Most of every X except one per cell is deactivated. Y contains very few genes to begin with.
Now for an almost linguistic question:
This is yet another case of the second question in a list of questions being deprived of its question mark – this practice makes no sense, but it seems to be exceptionless among Americans. Do schools in the US teach this as a rule?
Classic case of seeing what you expect to see. I assure you that not only is it not taught, it isn’t actually a thing. You’re generalizing from a few random samples you’ve happened to run into.
In other words, in keeping with the formal subject of this post, I made a typo. I regularly forget to use question marks and then go back and fill them in. It is possible that your observation about the second in a series is accurate — that I and others are most likely to miss the second in a series when we go to fix things.
Thanks for the information about polyploidy.
It feels like I come across an example once a week.
Come now, you’ve been reading this blog long enough to know exactly what such a feeling is worth on the open market.
Indeed no longer holds its sway; I believe us 30-somethings are instead more likely to rate highly its spiritual sequel the CD Laser Lens Cleaner.
(I have not run into the notion of a tape head demagnetizer before, but the concept, and thus the joke, sounds straightforward enough.)
Yup, I used one 3 or 4 times.