Michele Berdy
Luckily for us, Michele Berdy continues to write her weekly column about Russian language usage in The Moscow Times newspaper. Here are her writings and musings from the end of last year.Happy New Year everyone!
С новым годом!
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Friday, December 29, 2006. Issue 3570
The Year of the Flying Pig
By Michele A. Berdy
Успокоительные средства: tranquilizers
I love New Year's resolutions. Every year, I enjoy the utterly ludicrous belief that I can improve myself. Despite decades of proof to the contrary, this year for sure I can banish bad habits, exercise four times a week, back up computer files regularly, and become a kind, generous, and loving soul whose Russian is perfect.
Yeah, right. When pigs fly!
All the same, 2006 was such a tough year for Russia politically, socially and linguistically that I feel I ought to make an effort. Если хочешь изменить мир, сначала изменись сам. (If you want to change the world, change yourself first.) That's the theory, anyway. Here goes:
1. When I come across a word in Russian I don't know, before I get out four dictionaries and spend an hour on an Internet search, I resolve to say the word out loud. Then I will recognize копэкинг as co-packing, мол as mall, and секвестр as whatever the Duma wants it to mean.
2. I will embrace descriptive grammar. No more will I mentally red-pencil Russian news reports, changing такие случаи я не знаю to таких случаев я не знаю (I don't know any cases like that), because I accept -- truly I do! -- that language changes and you don't need the genitive case with a negated verb anymore. Долой прескриптивную грамматику! (Down with prescriptive grammar!) I shout, not even mentally correcting it to предписывающая грамматика (which is the same thing, only in real Russian).
3. I resolve to stop making up Russian words. I won't call an alarm clock разбудильник because Russians already call it будильник, even though clearly the point of an alarm clock is that it разбудит тебя (will wake you up) instead of будит тебя (tries to wake you up).
4. I will stop indulging in faulty folk etymology and asserting that деепричастия are signs of Divine Intervention (from Deus -- God -- and причастие -- communion), and instead, accept that these are adverbial participles and master their formation and use. How proud I will be to announce in dulcet tones: Желая скорее уехать домой, я быстро работала. (Wishing to go home as soon as possible, I worked fast.) And how embarrassed I will be if I continue to try to form participles out of the words that cannot be made into adverbial participles, like ждать (wait), петь (sing), писать (write), and печь (bake).
5. I resolve never to ask why ждать, петь, писать, and печь can't be made into adverbial participles. They just can't be.
6. I will be a good girl and take my medicine every day, and stop demonstrating my remarkable facility with Russian obscenity on Moscow roads. When the jerks in jeeps cut me off, missing my fender by a millimeter, I'll smile and say Так не надо (You shouldn't do that), instead of what I usually scream, which is: @#*(&@#*%&@(#.
7. I will stop shouting at the television news, adding the 15 aspects of the story that the newscasters are leaving out. Они же не виноваты. (It's not their fault). Besides, they can't hear me. But the neighbors can, and they're getting tired of it.
8. When I go to the United States and discuss Russia with friends and colleagues, I will stop arguing the point of view I don't believe in only because they are arguing an extreme and un-nuanced version of the point of view I do believe in, because somehow I end up sounding like the people I scream at when I see them on television news shows.
9. I will stop worrying that, if my government does something the Russian government doesn't like, I will have my visa revoked, my registration torn up, and my taxes for the last 25 years audited. I mean, that just couldn't happen, right?
Come on, lighten up! It's the holidays!
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Friday, December 22, 2006. Issue 3567
Keeping You Guessing
By Michele A. Berdy
Гадать на кофейной гуще/на бобах: to read tea leaves
Feeling a little lost? Confused? Remember when you used to pick up the paper, read the news, and feel like you actually understood what was going on? Well, those days are long gone. Today, when you finish reading a news report, you end up with more questions than answers.
Which brings us to a word and its derivatives you see all the time these days: гадать (to guess, to tell fortunes).
The first thing you need to remember about this productive little word is where the stress lies: firmly on the last syllable. You do not want to confuse гадать with гадить -- stress on first syllable -- since that word means "to make a mess" -- including the kind a puppy makes on the rug. We are seeking clarity, not a can of worms.
Then you must pay attention to the prefix. You are first confronted with загадка (mystery). Я ничего не понимаю. Это полная загадка. (I don't understand a thing. It's a complete mystery.) Then you develop догадка (conjecture, guess). У меня одни догадки. (I can only guess.) Догадки are stabs in the dark, much less grounded in analysis than предположение (supposition) or прогноз (prognosis). Это прогнозы или всего лишь догадки? (Is this a sound prognosis or guesswork?)
When you are swimming in a sea of theories, far from the shore of facts, you can say теряться в догадках (literally, to be lost in conjectures). Я понятия не имею. Я теряюсь в догадках. (I have no idea. I'm way over my head.) Or you can just say: Я теряюсь. (I'm at a loss.) If you are so lost you are getting upset -- which is the way I feel every morning after reading the news -- you can say: Я в растерянности. (I'm totally at sea.)
As your guesses get warm-warmer-hot, you can use the verb догадываться/догадаться (to figure something out). Here you need to pay attention not only to the prefix, but to aspect. Yes, I know you hate aspect, but obscurity is worse. When you use the imperfective form, догадываться, it means you're still trying to crack this nut. Я не знаю. Я просто догадываюсь. (I don't know. I'm just guessing.) When you use the perfective form, догадаться, it means you've nailed that sucker. Я догадался, о чём идёт речь. (I figured out what's going on.)
When you hit the nail on the head, someone might call you догадливый (perceptive).
-- Я знаю, почему ты пришёл.
-- Эх, какая ты догадливая! ( -- I know why you've come. -- You're quick on the uptake, aren't you?)
At this point you can switch to a new prefix with the verb разгадать (to solve a mystery). You might use this word when you have solved some kind of scientific puzzle: Генетики разгадали секрет долголетия. (Geneticists have solved the mystery of long life.) Or when you are divining something unscientifically: Моя подруга хорошо разгадывает кроссворды. (My friend is good at crossword puzzles.) Or, less commonly, when you have gotten to the bottom of someone: Наконец-то я разгадал этого странного человека. (I finally figured out this strange person.)
These days, news commentators constantly use the unadorned гадать. Что на самом деле случилось? Можно только гадать. (What really happened? We can only speculate.)
Or worse: гадать на кофейной гуще or на бобах. These are two forms of fortune telling that use coffee grounds and beans. Russians have always practiced and believed in this kind of fortune-telling -- especially young women during the Christmas season, to see if the new year would bring a bridegroom. But today the expression means "to guess without any basis in fact" -- what we English-speakers call "reading tea leaves." Мы не можем понять, что происходит. Остаётся только гадать на кофейной гуще. (We can't understand what's going on. All we can do is read tea leaves.)
Coffee or tea, anyone?
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Friday, December 15, 2006. Issue 3562
The Many Ways to Make Mischief
By Michele A. Berdy
Шальные деньги: a windfall, easy money
As this difficult year winds down, it's hard not to spend hours lamenting the state of the world. Not long ago in a private moment of exasperation, a journalist colleague described the behavior of some world leaders as adolescent. I had to agree; I can think of a number of heads of state whom I'd like to expel, suspend, ground or at the very least send to bed without supper. In Russian there is a very good word for this kind of behavior: шалить.
Шалить originally meant to go wild or crazy. Today, the verb and its derivatives convey wild and unacceptable behavior ranging from the playful to the dangerous. The trick is making sure you're talking about the right kind of nuisance.
You can use шалить to refer to children or teens being mischievous. Дети шалят. (The kids are misbehaving.) It can also be used in colloquial Russian to describe anything that is functioning badly: Часы шалят. (My watch isn't working right.) Нервы шалят. (My nerves are acting up.)
You can say, Шалишь! to mean "You're joking!" Ты выиграл конкурс?! Шалишь! (You won the contest?! You're kidding!) It can also be used less commonly to mean "No way!" В прошлый раз в концертный зал все проходили без билетов, а сейчас -- шалишь! (The last time everyone got into the concert hall without tickets, but now -- no way!)
Mischief and bad behavior are шалости, which usually have the connotation of pranks or benign mischief. You might also sigh "мужские шалости" (literally "male mischief") when your significant other reverts to adolescent behavior. In English, we usually say: Boys will be boys.
Mischief-makers are шалуны. These playful folks are not to be confused with шалопаи -- good for nothings, a word that sounds like it is derived from шалить, but which etymologists think is from the French word chenapan. Он -- молодой, талантливый, но шалопай. (He's young and talented, but a loafer.)
And the loafer шалопай is not to be confused with Шалтай-Болтай, the translator Samuel Marshak's wonderful invented word for Humpty Dumpty.
And Шалтай-Болтай shouldn't be confused with шаляй-валяй, which means doing something haphazardly.
But шалить has a darker side. In the old days, the misbehavior conveyed by шалить could mean danger: Ночью по большим дорогам шалят. (At night you can be robbed on the main roads.)
Шалить has two adjectival forms: One conveys playfulness and the other conveys a more sinister wildness. When you want to describe playful children, you call them шаловливые. Шальной is the adjective that means "gone wild" in a bad sense. It can mean someone who has lost his mind: Как шальной ходил по комнате. (He paced the room like a madman.) Шальные поступки are extreme, wild actions.
Шальная пуля is a stray bullet, that is, a bullet that has gone wild. Причиной взрыва в восточной части города стала шальная пуля. (The explosion in the eastern part of the city was set off by a stray bullet.)
Шальные деньги is "easy money," a windfall. In English, a windfall is a good thing. In Russian, it can be suspect: Шальные деньги приносят несчастье. (A windfall brings nothing but misery.) But it can also be used neutrally to describe, say, Russian petrodollars: Шальные нефтяные деньги будут инвестированы в "человеческий капитал" -- здравоохранение, образование и ипотеку. (The windfall of oil money is going to be invested in "human capital" -- health care, education, and mortgages.)
So, when describing heads of state, you choose: Are they шаловливые or шальные?
Michele A. Berdy is a Moscow-based translator and interpreter.
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Friday, December 8, 2006. Issue 3557
How This One Works
By Michele A. Berdy
Как: how, when, like, as, since, as soon as, both; are you kidding?
A very good translator I know once said that when translating Russian into English, it's not the big words that are the killers (because you can find English equivalents); and it's not the "untranslatable" words and concepts (though they may wound you slightly as you struggle to convey them). No, you are most likely to be done in by the tiny, little, everyday words.
Like как. The simplest of words, one of the first words you learned in Russian 101. It means "how": Как вы поживаете? (How are you?)
Except when it means "what": Как вы думаете? (What do you think?) Here, the problem is not so much translating into English, but speaking in Russian. We English speakers tend to impose our grammar on Russian and ask Что ты думаешь? Что ты говорил? (what do you think; what did you say). While not absolutely wrong, it often doesn't sound quite right. That что where there should be как is the verbal equivalent of having "foreigner" tattooed on your forehead.
You also need different words and constructions when translating как in comparisons. Sometimes it can be simply rendered "as" or "like": Он голодный как волк! (He's as hungry as a wolf!) But in comparative expressions with "как..., так и" you can either use the construction "as... so," or, more colloquially, rephrase the sentence altogether: Как жил, так и помер (He died the way he lived, literally, "as he lived, so he died").
Another usage of "как... так и" can be translated as "both": Как мальчики, так и девочки стали пить пиво. (Both boys and girls have started to drink beer.)
In another case, как might be translated as "when" or "as soon as": Как придёшь домой, позвони мне. (Call me as soon as you get home.)
And in yet another case, как might be rendered as "since": Прошло два года, как мы поженились. (Two years have gone by since we got married.)
As a question, как can express everything from simple lack of comprehension to astonished horror or anger. Let's take the instructive case of Vanya, the irresponsible coworker.
At the lowest emotional level, как can be used for clarifying information. It's what you ask in a neutral tone when you aren't sure you heard someone right:
-- Ваня позвонил. Сегодня его не будет. Заболел.
-- Как? Кто позвонил?
("Vanya called. He's not going to be in today. He's sick." "Sorry? Who called?")
But it can also convey surprise:
-- Ваня заболел. Говорит, у него температура.
-- Как это? Вчера он был совершенно здоров.
("Vanya's sick. He said he had a fever." "Really? He was perfectly fine yesterday.")
Or ire:
-- Он позвонил и сказал, что вчера не закончил отчёт.
-- Как?! Он же обещал!
("He called and said he didn't finish the report yesterday." "What?! He promised he'd do it!")
You could mix and match participles -- ещё and как -- to convey the really big trouble Vanya is going to be in:
-- Ваню, наверное, будут ругать?
-- Ещё как! Шеф хочет его уволить.
("Do you think Vanya is going to get yelled at?" "And how! The boss wants to fire him.")
Or yet another participle combination -- как же -- to indicate agreement.
-- Ты помнишь Ваню?
-- Как же, как же. Как он? Устроился он на работу?
("Remember Vanya?" "Of course I remember him. How is he? Did he find a new job?")
Michele A. Berdy is a Moscow-based translator and interpreter.
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Friday, December 1, 2006. Issue 3552
Democracy for Everyman
By Michele A. Berdy
Суверенная демократия: sovereign democracy
Every once in a while I go on a linguistic self-improvement campaign, a mini-program of enlightenment designed to expand my horizons and raise my political consciousness. "Yo, Berdy," says I, "'tis better to light a candle than curse the darkness of your ignorance."
This time I decided to shine a light on демократия (democracy). First, I discovered that Russian doesn't really need the word. It comes from Greek via French and German, and is a synonym for народовластие, a nice, old Russian word that says what it means: that power (власть) is in the hands of the people (народ).
Now, in Russia it has been qualified as суверенная демократия (sovereign democracy). I read a zillion gigabytes on this term before finally finding the definitive definition, as it were, by Vladislav Surkov, deputy head of President Vladimir Putin's administration and the man who coined the term. It is: образ политической жизни общества, при котором власти, их органы и действия выбираются, формируются и направляются исключительно российской нацией во всём её многообразии и целостности ради достижения материального благосостояния, свободы и справедливости всеми гражданами, социальными группами и народами, её образующими (the model of the political life of society in which the authorities, their structures and actions are chosen, formed and directed exclusively by the diverse Russian nation as a whole to achieve material well being, freedom and justice for all citizens and social and ethnic groups that comprise it).
Got that? Well, how about this free translation: the political and economic system made by Russians for the benefit of Russians without any foreign interference. That pretty much sums it up.
Having shed some light on that issue, I forged ahead to the conundrum of демократический and демократичный, two of those paronymous words that are the bane of my existence. This is sometimes not problematic, since both words can sometimes be translated as "democratic." But my candle began to sputter when I tried to grasp the usage. Демократический describes something democratic in the sense of a political system. So you can have демократические страны (democratic countries), демократические институты (democratic institutions) and демократическое государство (a democratic state).
Демократичный describes something democratic in nature. Here we are not talking about social and political institutions, but a non-dictatorial approach. So you could say: Наш коллектив -- демократичный. Мы все участвуем в принятии решений. (Our office is democratic: We all take part in decision making.)
But it can also mean democratic in the sense of "open to everyone." Самый демократичный форум в рунете! (The most democratic site on RuNet!). It's a site where all can participate.
From democratic in the sense of "open to everyone," it's just a hop to "affordable for everyone." В нашем ресторане самые демократичные цены! (Our restaurant has prices everyone can afford, literally "the most democratic prices.") And then a skip to a synonym for "inexpensive": Самая демократичная машина! Производители вывели на российский рынок свою самую недорогую модель. (The car for everyone, literally "the most democratic car!" The manufacturers have introduced their most inexpensive model to the Russian market.) And then a final jump to a euphemism for "people with modest incomes": Мини-отели претендуют на демократичный сегмент рынка. (Mini-hotels are going after the lower-income market segment.)
And that's when my candle went out. Now I think: Nope, 'tis better to praise the darkness.
Michele A. Berdy is a Moscow-based translator and interpreter.
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Friday, November 24, 2006. Issue 3547
When a Goose Is Not a Goose
By Michele A. Berdy
Ну ты и гусь!: You sly dog!
You would think that animals and birds would be the same all over the world. Logically, a mule is stubborn, regardless of his place of residence. But that would be too easy. We humans see the world through our own cultural and linguistic prisms. And that means that one man's turkey is another man's chicken.
Or take the goose. In English-speaking countries, a goose is considered one of God's daftest creatures. One meaning of the word "goose" is "a silly person." But in Russian, гусь (goose) is a sly little devil.
I can't speak with great authority about the IQ of geese, although intuitively I would not entrust, say, the preparation of my tax return to a goose -- or to any other barnyard animal, for that matter. But I can attest to the fact that they are nasty, sneaky creatures. You don't want to turn your back (or backside) to a goose. A goose won't goose you, he'll nip you -- hard.
In Russian гусь is used figuratively to refer to a sneaky, untrustworthy person -- what we usually call a rat in English. You could call someone гусь лапчатый (literally, a web-footed goose): Этот гусь лапчатый обманул меня. А ведь он казался таким приятным молодым человеком. (That rat deceived me. And he had seemed like such a nice young man.) Or you could say: Ну ты и гусь! Вёл переговоры с нашей фирмой, а заключил контракт с другой! (You sneak! You negotiated with our company and then signed a contract with another!) Or you could snarl at someone: Ты советовал мне не посылать резюме в эту фирму, а потом сам устроился туда на работу! 'орош гусь! (You told me not to send my resume to that company and then you got a job there! You dirtbag!)
Since geese can be such nasty creatures, the last thing you want to do is get them riled. This bit of common sense has found its way into various versions of the expression не дразнить гусей (literally, don't tease geese). Зачем ты надела норковую шубу на встречу с рабочими? Зачем гусей дразнить? (Why on earth did you put on your mink coat to go meet with the workers? Why rub them the wrong way?)
You can use another expression to indicate that someone is not your sort: гусь свинье не товарищ (literally, the goose is no friend of the pig). Подчинённый решил выпить с начальником. Тот ему отвечал, что это невозможно -- гусь свинье не товарищ. (An employee decided to have a drink with his boss. His boss said that he couldn't possibly do that -- they weren't in the same league.)
While in English and Russian a reaction to fear or cold is гусиная кожа (goose flesh), in other cases, the languages have the same expressions, but use different fowl or images. Как с гуся вода (literally, like water off a goose) is the Russian version of "like water off a duck's back." The expression that came to English via a Greek fable, "to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs," involves a chicken in Russian: зарезать курицу, несущую золотые яйца (to slaughter the chicken who lays golden eggs). Fine wrinkles around the eyes are crow's feet in English and гусиные лапки (literally, goose's feet) in Russian. And идти гуськом (literally, to walk like a goose) is to walk single file in English.
But the low-down, sneaky, nasty goose has given Russian one lovely expression, unfortunately now quite obscure: гусиная дорога (literally, goose trail), a folk term for the Milky Way (Млечный путь). In Russian folk tradition, it was the path in the sky that geese used to orient themselves when migrating.
But maybe I just like it because when geese are on the wing, they can't bite your backside.
Michele A. Berdy is a Moscow-based translator and interpreter.
Labels: Michele Berdy, phrases, Russian language, usage, vocabulary
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