Posts tagged with "Chutzpah"

(le Róislín)

We’ve recently been looking at different ways to say “I love you” in Irish.  Some of you might have been wondering how to pronounce them, especially the phrases where the straightforward “grá” [graw] changes to “ghrá” [γraw, to be explained below] and the straightforward “croí” changes to “chroí” [khree].

I’ve noticed some pronunciation guides online that simply say “graw” for the pronunciation of both “grá” and “ghrá,” which is, unfortunately, misleading.  For the “ch” sound of “chroí,” you’ll find at least three approaches,  1) the official IPA representation of /x/, 2) the typical “pronunciation guide” usage of “kh” (which I mostly advocate in this blog, for practicality’s sake), and 3) some sources just glossing over the fricative sound and making the “ch” a simple “k” sound.

I’ve actually dealt with this issue previously in this blog, as some of you may recall, but since there are always more léitheoirí nua ar an liosta and also many reasons to proclaim one’s love, or to talk about how to do so, we’ll revisit the fricatives.  Some of the other blogs that discussed the fricatives are http://www.transparent.com/irish/treoir-don-treoir-a-guide-to-the-guide-for-pronunciation-cuid-a-2/ (which mostly dealt with the broad dh- and gh- sounds) and http://www.transparent.com/irish/treoir-don-treoir-a-guide-to-the-guide-for-pronunciation-cuid-a-3/ (which mostly dealt with the broad ch- sound).

Some of the love phrases we discussed previously were “Mo ghrá thú,” “Tusa mo ghrá,” “Is tú mo ghrá,” and “Grá mo chroí thú.”

For “grá,” the basic noun for “love,” transcribing the sound as “graw” is reasonable.  In the North, of course, the vowel sound is a little different, but for this blog, we’ll just stick to consonant issues.

For “ghrá” [γraw], as in “mo ghrá” (my love), I described the voiced velar fricative sound previously as “a rumbling guttural sound that seems to want to stay in the throat.”  That’s “guttural” as in Latin “guttur” (throat), not “gutters” as in drainage systems.  I added that, subjectively speaking, it is “a bit softer and less blunt than the more familiar voiceless velar fricative,” the latter being represented by German “Achtung” or “Buch.”  The voiced velar fricative may be found in some pronunciations of German “sagen” and some pronunciations of Spanish “agua,” but not in all, and not typically in the American high school language class presentation.  The best way to pick up sounds that are not in one’s linguistic inventory, of course, is to listen, listen, listen, and for that, short of living in the Gaeltacht, I’d recommend tuning into to www.rnag.ie as often as possible and listening to the native speakers.

For “croí” (heart), the sound is quite straightforward, “kree” as in “Cree” Indian, or “creel” or “creepie,” etc.  Remember the long vowel “í” here trumps the short “o” sound, which is, essentially, silent.

For “chroí,” as in “mo chroí” (my heart), the sound is as I’ve mentioned several times before – like German “Achtung” or “Buch,” like the Welsh “bach” or “fach,” and as you might hear in the pronunciation of “Loch” especially by a Gaelic speaker.  This is the voiceless velar fricative.  In American English, we may find it sometimes in the pronunciation of Hebrew- or Yiddish-derived words like “Chanukah” and “Chutzpah,” but many Americans tend to minimize the throaty quality of these sounds and simply start off with an initial “h” sound.  Unless, of course, they actually speak Hebrew or Yiddish, in which case the voiceless velar fricative comes quite naturally.

Feeling completely tongue-tied?  Actually, it’s a vocal cord issue, not really the tongue.  There is some good news – there are some ways to avoid the velar fricatives and still say you love someone, like “Tá cion agam ort” and “Tá grá agam duit.”

Tá cion agam ort, very literally, there is love/affection at me on you.

Tá grá agam duit, very literally, there is love at me to you.

Of course, if you pronounce the latter with typical Cois Fharraige Irish, the “duit” will become “dhuit” and you’ll be right back in there with the voiced velar fricatives.

In fact, at some point, to really master Irish pronunciation, you’ll need the velar fricatives.  If you want to say “Cén chaoi a bhfuil tú, a Dhonncha?,” you’ve got two voiceless ones and one voiced one.  If you want to talk about the poet Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, you’ve got a voiced one every time you say her surname.  If you live “sa Clochán Liath (Dungloe),” you’ve got two (voiceless, within the same word) and if your muintir are from “Contae Dhún na nGall,” you got a voiced one.  Not to mention speaking about “dúchas” (heritage), as in “Is as an gClochán ó dhúchas mé” (I’m from An Clochán/Clifden originally).  The phrase “ó dhúchas” is a “double-whammy” example, like “a Dhonncha,” with both a voiced and a voiceless velar fricative.  And isn’t that special!

And in case you think that velar fricatives are a bizarre topic for discussion in an Irish language blog, I’d like to add two points as closers.

First, both the voiceless and voiced velar fricatives are widely used sounds in Irish and they do occur in a variety of other languages.  They happen not to occur in English, except in a few loan words, and even there, English speakers will tend to soften them to the point where they are no longer fricative.  In other words, English speakers will tend to say Hanukah with an initial “h” sound instead of “Chanukah” with an initial “kh” sound.  They’ll also tend to say “Hallah” instead of “Challah” for the braided bread.  Whose talking about “Challah” these days?  Well, plenty of people in U.S. delis and bakeries, for one, but more recently, and newly exciting to both art historians and the world at large, anyone discussing Rembrandt’s “The Supper at Emmaus.”  Apparently the recent cleaning, removing many layers of varnish, revealed that the bread being served at Emmaus was, in fact, challah, bread braided in three strands before it’s baked.

Second, “Velar Fricatives” made headline news not too long ago in the online journal Significance: Statistics Making Sense (October 22, 2010).  A statistics journal, no less!  Michael O’Kelly’s article, “How’s your velar fricative? A numerical guide to urban and rural Irish speakers,” commented on some research by Dr. Brian Ó Broin, concerning the accuracy of pronunciation among difference demographics of Irish speakers.  O’Kelly’s article can be found at http://www.significancemagazine.org/details/webexclusive/870327/Hows-your-velar-fricative-A-numerical-guide-to-urban-and-rural-Irish-speakers.html

So keep your fricatives velarized when whispering “sweet nothings” in Irish, and remember to make them voiceless or voiced according to whether you’re saying “chroí” or “ghrá.”  Or, if you prefer, choose one of the fricative-less alternatives.

Hmmm, “sweet nothings” as Gaeilge.  “Baothbhriathra mealltacha” – that’s a nice mouthful, nach ea?  Ábhar blag eile, b’fhéidir?  You might note that while the Irish phrase is considered equivalent to the English, it contains neither the word “sweet” nor the word “nothing.”  How’s that?  Stay tuned!  SGF, Róislín 

We recently discussed the various ways to use the word “Gael-Mheiriceánach” to say something is “Irish-American” or “I am an Irish-American.” Let’s go global and discuss some more possibilities.

 

If you’re one of about 4.5 million Canadians with Irish ancestry, you could say, “Is Gael-Cheanadach mé.”  If you’re one of almost 2 million Irish-Australians, you could say, “Is Gael-Astrálach mé.”

 

Please keep in mind as you read this, that the main goal in today’s blog is to show how to say that one is an Irish-American, an Irish-Canadian, etc. It would take a book, or more, to thoroughly discuss Irish identity, including such terms as Gael-Mheiriceánach (Irish-American), Gael Meiriceánach or Éireannach Meiriceánach (American-Irish), náisiúnaigh Éireannacha (Irish nationals), Éireannaigh eitneacha (ethnic Irish), easaoránaigh (ex-pats), and what, if any, difference it makes if one is from an chéad ghlúin (first generation) or an tríú glúin (third generation). In fact, even the term “first generation,” regarding inimirce (immigration), is in dispute, since it can refer to either the immigrants themselves, or, more commonly in my experience, to the first generation born in the new homeland.  So the goal here is not to tell people how to self-identify themselves, but to give them the Irish vocabulary to say what they want to say about themselves. Requests welcome! Admittedly, some will give me pause to reflect, especially if I haven’t seen them used before.  Gael-Nua-Eabhracach for an Irish-New Yorker, srl.?

 

And here are a few more straightforward examples, i.e. unhyphenated, using some of terms from the previous places on Celtic place names and nationalities:

 

Is Éireannach mé. I’m an Irishman.

 

Is Breatnach mná í Catherine Zeta-Jones, agus ban-aisteoir iontach. Catherine Zeta-Jones is a Welshwoman and a wonderful actress.

 

Is Briotánach é Alan Stivell, agus cláirseoir den scoth. Alan Stivell is a Breton, and a top-notch harpist.

 

Ba Chornach é William Golding (1911-1993).  William Golding was a Cornishman.

 

Is Albanach é Seán Connery, agus sáraisteoir.  Seán Connery is a Scot and a great actor.

 

Is Manannach é an príomhcharachtar in The Manxman, scannán de chuid Alfred Hitchcock, ní nach ionadh. The main character in The Manxman, an Alfred Hitchcock movie, is a Manxman, not surprisingly. 

 

And for good measure:

Is Ceanadaigh iad Gordon Lightfoot agus Loreena McKennitt, agus sáramhránaithe. Gordon Lightfoot and Loreena McKennitt are Canadians, and great singers.

 

Is Astrálach í Nicole Kidman, agus ban-aisteoir iontach. Nicole Kidman is an Australian and a wonderful actress. I know, she has saoránacht dhúbáilte (dual-citizenship) and dúchas (heritage) Astrálach-Haváíoch-Mheiriceánach but that’ll be Á.B.E.

 

Pronunciation tips:

as Gaeilge: “in Irish.” Remember the preposition “as” has a “hard” s-sound, like “floss,” or “DOS” in computer lingo. Or like “Bossy the Cow” but not “a bossy boss,” at least in my English pronunciation. The vowel sound is “aaahh.” Although this word looks like the English “as,” it isn’t!

 

Chornach: when the sentence is in the past tense, the verb “is” changes to “ba” and the word Cornach changes to Chornach, meaning you have a double dose of pronouncing the Buch-Achtung-Chutzpah “ch” sound. 

Tamaillín ó shin (a little while ago, May 6 to be specific), I hinted at a discussion of the term “Jerusalem artichoke” in Irish.  And why not?  It’s suimiúil (interesting) on several counts: “luibheolaíocht” (botany), “logainmníocht” (toponymy), “sanasaíocht” and “bréagshanasaíocht” (etymology and pseudo-etymology), “cócaireacht” (cooking), and “eolas contráilte”(misinformation), to name just a few.

 

You may recall that the key to understanding Jerusalem artichoke,” the English name of the plant Helianthus tuberosus, is the Italian word “girasole” (turning toward the sun, heliotropic).  It has nothing to do with Jerusalem, which, if it were part of the phrase, would be “Iarúsailéim.”  So, if we look at the word’s history, its sanasaíocht, or in this case, bréagshanasaíocht, we find that the “girasole” element eventually became Jerusalem, through similarity of sound and the fact that so many plant and animal species are, in fact, named after geographic locations, accurate or not.  Stranger things have been known to happen, soundwise, like “sparrowgrass” for “asparagus,” or toponymically, as in Philadelphia Cream Cheese, which originated in New York, or “Panama hats,” which are traditionally made in Ecuador. 

 

Whether the plant actually turns to the sun or not, I will not question here, not being a luibheolaí (botanist), but if anyone can vouch for the plant’s héileatrópacht (heliotropism), I’d be interested to hear about it.   Or maybe we should ask the aptly named character, Miss Heliotrope, from the children’s book, The Little White Horse, which is one of my all-time favorites, and to judge from her recent endorsement, one of J. K. Rowling’s childhood favorites also.  Of course, Miss Heliotrope’s name comes from the color of her nose, which matches the color of the heliotrope flower, and not from any sun-turning propensities, but, sin Á.B.E.

 

Irish, I’m pleased to say, drops the ainm contráilte (misnomer) and simply uses “bliosán gréine” (sun artichoke) for H. tuberosus.  We’re still left with calling this sunflower an “artichoke” but that much seems irreversible.  Apparently its root is edible and tastes something like artichoke, hence the connection.  Can’t say I’ve ever tried it though.  Agus tusa?  Ar ith tú fréamh bliosán gréine riamh? (And yourself?  Ever eat Jerusalem artichoke root?).  If so, I’d be interested to know how it was prepared and I’m sure other readers would be interested too.  That might even help us work on one particularly ambiguous bit of Irish vocabulary, the verb “bruith,” which can mean to boil, bake, broil, grill, or become burnt, usually from the sun, not culinarily, which would typically use the verb “” (to burn).  So that’s our cócaireacht connection. 

 

The globe artichoke (Cynara cardunculus), the plant we normally eat, is actually member of the feochadán (thistle) family.  Thistles and their Celtic connections could easily occupy a full blog, so I’ll save that for blag éigin eile. 

 

Pronunciation tip:

sanasaíocht: SAHN-uss-ee-ukht; the “kh” here represents the guttural “ch” sound, like German has in “Buch” or “Achtung” and as in the word “Chutzpah.”

bréagshanasaíocht: remember the “bréag” (false) part is a prefix, which softens or “lenites” the initial “s” of sanasaíocht to “sh,” and that means that the original initial “s” is not pronounced at all!  The “sh” sound in Irish is pronounced like an “h,” so here we have BRAYG-HAHN-uss-ee-ukht.  You may have learned that the first syllable is stressed in pronouncing Irish words, which is true, but the rule changes for compound words.  They typically have equal stress on the prefix and the first syllable, which I indicate here with ceannlitreacha (capital letters). 

 

You can also see this pronunciation rule for prefixes in effect in words like “seanchapall” (old horse), which would be represented as SHAN-KHAHP-ull, with the first two syllables having equal emphasis.  More examples of that later, i mblag eile, if you let me know that “comhfhocail” (compound words) are of particular interest.  Bhur mblagálaí – Róislín

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