Posts tagged with "Rowling"

Ah, well, this is still only barr an chnoic oighir.  But, cén dochar? 

 

I’ve picked some representative figures here to illustrate someone saying they speak a given language. 

 

Is mise Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.  Labhraím Gearmáinis.

 

Is muide Asterix agus Obelix.  Labhraímid Gaillis agus Laidin.

 

Is mise Vincent Van Gogh.  Labhraím Ollainis.

 

Is mise Franz Kafka.  Labhraím Gearmáinis agus Seicis.

 

Is mise Oivid.  Labhraím Laidin agus scríobhaim filíocht i Laidin.

 

Is mise Hóiméar.  Labhraím Gréigis agus scríobhaim filíocht i nGréigis.

 

Is mise Matsuo Basho.  Scríobhaim filíocht i Seapáinis i bhfoirm haiku.   

 

Is mise Adi Kavi Valmiki.  Labhraím Sanscrait.  Scríobh mé an Ramayana. 

 

Is mise Harry Potter.  Labhraím Béarla agus *Snathairtheanga.  Níl ann ach b’fhéidir seisear eile a bhfuil nó a raibh Snathairtheanga acu; ba de shliocht Salazar Slytherin an chuid is mó acu.

 

Fuaimniú agus Ciall: cathú [KAH-hoo] temptation; dochloíte [duh-KHLEE-tcheh] invincible, here “irresistible”; cnoc oighir [knok AI-irzh] iceberg; filíocht [FIL-ee-ukht] poetry; i bhfoirm X [ih WIRzh-im] in (the) form of X; de shliocht [djeh hlikht, note silent “s”] of the lineage / ancestry of, descended from

 

Snathairtheanga [SNAH-hirzh-HANG-guh], a tri-partite “comhfhocal,” consisting of “nathair” (snake) + teanga (tongue) + an initial “s” for the “siosarnach” (hissing).  Since lucht leanúna Harry Potter i nGaeilge are still waiting for the actual translation of Book 2 of the series to be done, I have coined this word in the interim.  J. K. Rowling’s term for “snake-speech,” parseltongue, doesn’t actually appear in Book 1, Harry Potter agus an Órchloch, so, so far there is no precedent.  At any rate, it seems to fit the bill, at least as well as Jean-François Menard’s “Choixpeau” (Sorting Hat) did for the French.  Who knows?  If Máire Nic Mhaoláin, who translated Book 1 into Irish, ever does Book 2, maybe she’ll go ahead and use this word!  Comparable compounds already in use for the same hissing language are “Fourchelang” (Fraincis), Serpentese (Iodáilis), Parselzunge (Gearmáinis) and Sisselspraak or Sisseltong (Ollainis). 

 

Nóta gramadaí: “cúpla” is followed by the singular in Irish: cúpla teanga, cúpla duine, cúpla cailín, cúpla blaigeard, srl.

Cén fáth an bhéim seo ar Harry Potter?  Tá mé ag Azkatraz 2009 faoi láthair, comhdháil faoi na leabhartha, na scannáin, agus rud ar bith a bhaineanns le Harry Potter. Why this emphasis on Harry Potter?  I’m at Azkatraz 2009 at the moment, a convention about the books, the movies, and anything related to Harry Potter.

Seo na freagra
í a théanns leis na ceisteanna a bhí sa bhlag deireanach.  Cén chaoi ar éirigh leat? (or, for lucht Dhún na nGall, Cad é mar a d’éirigh leat?, How did you do, lit. how did it succeed with you?)

1. Tá seisear mac ag na Weasleys (6)

2. Is é Hedwig an t-ainm atá ar ulchabhán Harry.

3. Scabbers atá ar fhrancach Ron.

4. Tá cúigear deartháireacha ag Ron Weasley.  Leis an fhírinne a dhéanamh, tá cúigear deartháireacha ag gach mac sa teaghlach. Actually, every son in the family has five brothers!

By the time this blog appears, I hope that some of you will have written in about your favorite characters or actors in the series.  Tá mé ag tnúth (looking forward to) le d’fhreagraí.

Was anyone wondering exactly what an “órchloch” is?  As a translation, it’s much more faithful to the original British version than the American version of Book 1.  I won’t exactly call the American version of Book 1 (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone) a “translation,” but a lot of changes were made in the English to accommodate the American audience.  If you read the Irish version, keep in mind that it is translated directly from the British version. 

That should be major leid (clue).  The British title is Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, and an órchloch” is a philosopher’s stone in alchemy.  “Cloch” is the basic word for “stone” andór” means “gold,” here used as a prefix.  Because of the prefix, “cloch” is lenited to become “chloch” and both “ch” sounds are pronounced with that German-Yiddish-Hebrew-Lallans “ch” sound, gutturally, i.e. in the throat.  Like “Achtung” or “Buch.”

If any readers are also Harry Potter fans, scríobh chugam más mian leat (if you wish) na leabhartha a phlé (to discuss)!  As Gaeilge, an méid is féidir (as much as possible)!

Bhuel, tar éis a bheith ag smaoineamh faoi, after pondering the matter, I figured I may as well join the sluaite (hordes) ag scríobh faoi Michael Jackson. 

 

First stop, as usual, what else has been written about his death, as Gaeilge?  Can’t say I found mórán (much).  A cuardach Google limited to “Bás Michael Jackson” brought up 99 results, only one of which turned out to be in Irish.  How’d that happen?  An iomarca teangacha a bhfuil “bas” (gan síneadh fada) mar fhocal acu, go mór mór, an Fhraincis (see gluaisín thíos, for vocab help). 

 

Next stop, minus the word “bas,” to eliminate the French and other languages.  That brought me back to the móriomlán (grand total) of one result for “Bás Michael Jackson” as such.  Searching in the Irish version of Google didn’t seem to make any difference. 

 

Cúpla straitéis eile, a couple other strategies.  How about using the “gaelú” (gaelicization) of Jackson’s name?  But first, an explanation — names of celebrities and international figures are not usually gaelicized unless their bearer shows some precedent for doing so.  That’s generally true, even if they have Irish or partly Irish backgrounds.  Sampla gasta, a quick example, using Google hits as an admittedly rough frame of reference: “Bill Clinton,” 23,700,000 (ní nach ionadh); “William Clinton,” 356,000; “William Jefferson Clinton,” 320,000, but for “Liam Cliontún,” the gaelú of his name, the results were exactly tada, faic, a dhath ar bith – all Irish ways of saying “nothing.”  And that’s despite his dúchas Éireannach (Irish heritage).  Of course, I’m not saying here that no one has ever used the “Liam Cliontún” version of his name, just that it doesn’t show up in a Googlable manner.  If the results had been, mar shampla, “Bill Clinton,” 5, and “Liam Cliontún, 0, then I’d say, “completely inconclusive.”  But at 23 milliún+ to náid (0), I think we can safely say there’s no formal precedent for saying “Liam Cliontún” when referring to iaruachtarán na Stát Aontaithe (the former president of the United States), even if writing in Irish. 

 

For good measure, I even tried “Liam Clinton,” a hybrid version of the name, since some people are more comfortable changing their “ainm baiste” (given name) for use in Irish language classes or social contexts, but are less likely to adapt their surname, even informally.  Liam Clinton” gave me about 155 hits, of which only a handful were actually about an tUachtarán, the president.  There are other Liam Clintons in the world who come up in the search, including one who was born in 2009.  And most of the presidential references were due to glitches in wording, which meant that “Wil-liam Clinton” (with word-break) would show up in my search for “Liam Clinton,” where “William Clinton” would not.  So much for that ascaill (avenue), or, to be more concise, sin sin (that’s that). 

 

There are some exceptions to not gaelicizing names, mar shampla, An Mháthair Treasa, possibly triggered by the expected translation of the honorific, and Criostóir Colambas.

 

So, now back to Mícheál Mac Siacais.  Did searching for the gaelicized version of his name bring up any abundance of commentary as Gaeilge?  Can’t say it did.  I found a móriomlán of one actual article and two brief fan commentaries. 

 

I also tried searching for “bás Mhíchíl (Mhícheál) Mhic Shiacais,” using the name in the genitive case (Mhic instead of Mac, etc.) figuring that anyone who cared enough about the ábhar (topic) to write about it in Irish might have gone ahead with the gaelú anyway.  Glantoradh (net result), one repeat hit.

 

OK, so this has gotten me through blag amháin eile without even getting up to my intended project, a capsúlbheathaisnéis* of Jackson, as Gaeilge.  So far, I’ve only gotten through whether or not it made sense to refer to him as Mícheál Mac Siacais (Mac Siac-Ó?).  So the capsúlbheathaisnéis will have to wait for blag eile, and will be forthcoming, more on the “forth-“ (sooner) side of things if I hear from readers that they are interested in the ábhar.  More on the farther side of “forthcoming” má chloisim (if I hear) tada, faic, a dhath ar bith uaibhse (from ye).   Even though my own musical taste is much more traidisiúnta, I’m happy to write about virtually any topic that is tráthúil (timely) agus i mbéal na ndaoine (being talked about).  But there are other topics looming large, tearmainn na n-asal (the donkey sanctuaries) agus an chéad scannán eile i sraith Harry Potter, mar shampla, so do let me know má tá suim agaibh!

 

Sin é – Róislín

 

*OK, OK, in the time-honored tradition of Gaeilgeoirí, especially those active before the general spread of World Wide Web and Internet usage, which brought online dictionaries and which I date to about 1994, I made up the word “capsúlbheathaisnéis.”  I find no precedent for it online.  But that is how new words get started.  Hint: beathaisnéis itself comes from beatha, life + faisnéis, information, i.e. biography.  I didn’t choose to say “beathaisnéis chapsúil,” since to me that would sound more like the life story of a capsule (say what?), from being part of sheet of plastic to being a tablet filled with medicinal powder.  Not real exciting – it would sound a bit like the booklets we used to have ar scoil (at school), like “The Story of a Coffee Bean.”  These  would cover the saolré (life-cycle) of the pónaire chaife (coffee-bean) from péacán (sprout) to cupániáva.”  Not that a pónaire chaife is really a pónaire, it’s really a síol (seed), ach sin scéal eile – Á.B.E.! 

 

Gluaisín [GLOO-ish-een]: an iomarca [un YUM-ark-uh], too many; a bhfuil … acu [uh wil … AHK-uh], that/which have; gan [gahn], without; go mór mór, especially; an Fhraincis [un RANK-is, silent “f”], the French language, scannán, film, movie; sraith, series (“th” is silent). 

 

Leideanna Fuaimnithe: faic [fwack], capsúlbheathaisnéis [KAHP-sool-VA-hash-naysh, silent “t”], uaibhse [OO-iv-sheh], beatha [BA-huh], faisnéis [FASH-naysh]. saolré [seel-ray], síol [sheel]

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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