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.") Posted by languagehat at April 13, 2009 10:49 AM
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.
Posted by: jamessal at April 13, 2009 11:13 AMIt 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.
Posted by: steveh at April 13, 2009 02:50 PM"My Mother the Car"?
Or that SCTV parody of 3CP1 with "Tibor's Tractor" (where Nikita Khrushchev was reincarnated as the title character)?
Posted by: The Ridger at April 13, 2009 04:52 PMI 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.
Posted by: Jaujau at April 13, 2009 05:11 PM"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....
Posted by: michael farris at April 13, 2009 05:34 PMI 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.
Posted by: language hat at April 13, 2009 07:24 PMCould it not be an aptronym? (Not a serious question; your doubt is enough for me.)
Posted by: jamessal at April 13, 2009 07:30 PMI'm thinking of rereading M&M. If there is more than one translation, which is best?
Posted by: John Emerson at April 13, 2009 07:54 PMI 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.
Posted by: Ray Girvan at April 13, 2009 08:44 PMI'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.
Posted by: jamessal at April 13, 2009 09:32 PMAnd though I obviously can't read those articles, I'm glad to know that story is true!
Posted by: jamessal at April 13, 2009 09:33 PMMy 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?
Posted by: marie-lucie at April 14, 2009 05:31 AMJamessal and Mark, you're actually lucky not to be able to read those articles. One's entitled "hairy pussies".
Posted by: sredni vashtar at April 14, 2009 07:41 AMSredni: 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/
Posted by: jamessal at April 14, 2009 07:53 AMJust found it: her name's actually Kostsova (Косцова).
Aha! Thanks, Ray.
Posted by: language hat at April 14, 2009 08:04 AMI am reminded of a Barnes & Noble book called Russian for Beginners, which contained the most improbable phrases you ever heard
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.
Posted by: mollymooly at April 14, 2009 10:17 AMMarc 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."
Posted by: michael farris at April 14, 2009 07:21 PMJR: "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".
Posted by: marie-lucie at April 14, 2009 07:47 PMA Quechua scholar swore that the literal translation was: "My inner fibers twitch for you, my little hummingbird."
Hmmm. My nipples explode with delight.
Posted by: Ray Girvan at April 14, 2009 09:21 PMmy 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?
Posted by: Ray Girvan at April 14, 2009 09:46 PMRG: 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.
Posted by: marie-lucie at April 15, 2009 02:13 AMMarie-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.)
Posted by: Noetica at April 15, 2009 03:03 AMFrom Ray's, I like the simple 'Etes-vous reine? Je le suis.' It could have been taken from Alice.
Posted by: AJP Crown at April 15, 2009 04:07 AMYour 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.
Posted by: John Emerson at April 15, 2009 05:18 AMMy 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.
Posted by: language hat at April 15, 2009 08:04 AMMise en train. Absurdist example sentences by Ionesco.
Posted by: John Emerson at April 15, 2009 08:50 AMFrom Amazon: "Mise en train" Did you mean: mouse on train?
Posted by: AJP Crown at April 15, 2009 09:47 AMMice on a Train was the less effective sequel to Snakes on a Plane.
Posted by: language hat at April 15, 2009 10:08 AMAmazon: mouse on train
Language: mice on a train
Don't panic, Language.
Posted by: AJP Crown at April 15, 2009 04:05 PM@ 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.
Posted by: Lugubert at April 15, 2009 05:35 PMI 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.
Posted by: AJP Crown at April 16, 2009 03:01 AMEnvoyez-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.
Posted by: marie-lucie at April 16, 2009 09:40 AMWTF 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?
Posted by: MMcM at April 17, 2009 04:00 AMIt 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.