For this first post of the year, I want to share a couple of pet peeves, in the futile hope of getting them out of my system. Futile because films and books keep sticking these burrs under my saddle and me complaining about it won’t change a darn thing.
Annoyance Number One
The Canadians among you will shout: “That is the flag of Quebec!” Yes, it is. And no, I’m not vexed by Quebec in any way.
I’m not going to write a post about La Belle Province that I haven’t visited yet (I need to do that one of these days). My pet peeve concerns the fleur-de-lis, also spelled fleur-de-lys, that the Quebecois flag displays nicely. If I pocketed a dollar, Canadian if you will, or a Euro, each time I heard that word mispronounced, I could probably afford a good meal in a nice French restaurant. American movies and TV shows persist in saying it wrong, for some unfathomable reason.
Folks, it is pronounced: fleur-de-liss. Snake that “S”. It isss not sssilent. If you keep it silent, what you’re saying means something like bed-flower, which could be a poetic nickname for a lady of the night. Maybe Louis XIV, who had plenty of fleur-de-lys on his cloaks and banners, would get a kick out of that considering how many ladies he tumbled in the Versailles alcoves.
I know, I know, the French language is frustrating. It’s got all these letters that might as well not be there because they’re not spoken, or are spoken in mysterious ways that in no way resemble what’s written. And to make our little fleur-de-lis even more nagging, in many French words, all the plurals for instance, the final “S” is indeed silent. Ha!
Consider the royal flower an exception, like the “iris” that it actually resembles a lot more than the lily it’s supposed to be named after, yet another quirk. “Ours” (bear) is another one, but it seldom pops up in English-speaking shows, so I can’t get upset about it. Great Jean-Jacques Annaud movie, by the way.
The Second Irritation
“Coup de grâce”, meaning mercy shot. This one drives me bonkers.
Not only is it often mis-pronounced as “coup de gra” (it’s a cee-ee at the end, people), it can also be misspelled as “coup de gras” (I encountered that in a book last week, which prompted this post). Literally, it means “hit of fat”. Every time I read or hear that, I can’t help picturing a dying soldier in the trenches being bumped on the head with a bucket full of lard. I guess it would achieve the intended terminal result. It sure makes me collapse in inappropriate laughter.
Please movie people and writerly types, next time you want to finish off a grievously wounded person or animal, picture the lovely creature below for the correct spelling. And no, she did not take an ax to Jimmy’s leg to put an end to his misery. Although he might still have said “Merci”!
My little rant has a wider purpose. It’s a call for caution. Using foreign language in a book can add a pinch of spice, wake the taste buds, bring a bit of flair to a scene. It has to be used with extreme prudence, however. If a Cold War era spy exchanges pleasantries in Polish with a source, I’m unlikely to catch the grammatical errors, but I bet you a pound of bacon against a bouquet of lilies that some readers will, and in this world of social media sharing the potentially embarrassing joke will spread. Egg on the face isn’t deadly but it’s aggravating. And it’s so easy to avoid. All it takes is ask the question: How do you say … in …? There’s a crowd out there on the Web eager to provide an answer. And a bunch of translation sites. They’re still clunky but they’re getting better.
French and Spanish are full of booby traps. So many words and turns of phrases have made it into everyday speech that writers may not realize they need to be checked for accuracy, and a lot of readers will skate over mistakes too. That doesn’t make it okay. Native speakers of the languages will notice the sloppiness and groan. Take the time to crosscheck, multilingual readers will appreciate.
And while we’re at it, there’s no harm in minding the English too. How many principals roaming out there in the wild should really be principles? Or vice versa. Ah, wait, that’s Latin, right?
A Seasonal Short Story
Gift Wrapped was published by Shotgun Honey. It’s very short, topical, and free to read. A little chill and a scoop of dark humor.
A Reminder
I know the season for gifts is over now, but the shops are already hawking Valentine’s Day, so here’s one more push for the short story collection. Family and Other Ailments is out there, get your copy. Reviews are coming in. Here’s an excerpt from the latest:
Many of the stories here are very short - only a few pages - but Proctor always manages to cram a lifetime lived inside them. You can feel the before and after outside the words we get. Some stories lull you into a certain comfort before pulling the rug out from under you. One of them starts as an almost placid tale of a young couple adopting a stray puppy before veering off into pure terror. As one character says: "Reality was definitely starting to feel slippery."
The OED says fleur-de-lis in English is pronounced both ways: https://www.oed.com/dictionary/fleur-de-lis_n?tab=factsheet#4085820 Of course the French pronunciation is as you say.
Isn't a coup-de-gras when you suddenly gain weight? :-)
I love this rant. Over the years, I've had to hold my tongue about grammar and style, because people quickly escalate to full-out indignation and violent threats. Omit needless words. Don't utilize made up words when you can use real ones.
And as an aside. Grace Kelly is the person I must enjoy looking at, and Rear Window is among my favorite films. My only gripe is the hyperspeed moment at the climactic moment. Why Alfred? Why?