Symphony notes reveal contrast in linguistic tones
French requires a higher level of formality than English
I noticed an elaborate grandeur that might now seem burdensome in English.
A few weeks ago I went to a concert given by l’Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal. The program gave details about the performers and the music in both French and English. Reading the program, I was struck by the level of formality that is often expected in the French language, a formality that would have been required in English half a century ago but has now, in most circumstances, vanished.
Audience members under 35, for example, were invited to enjoy a glass of wine with the musicians after the concert. The English notes spoke of “a free drink coupon.” The French notes offered “un coupon de consommation gratuite.” The meaning is the same, but the tone is not. A description of the pipe organ in the Maison Symphonique explained that its name honours the memory of the OSM’s first general manager and, as the program stated, the organ was paid for by Jacqueline Desmarais, who “wished to keep alive the memory of the lasting contribution made by Mr. Pierre Béique.” The French wording was more grandiose: Madame Desmarais “a voulu ainsi perpétuer par son appellation le souvenir de l’irremplaçable contribution de monsieur Pierre Béique.”
Several ads ran only in French, and here, too, I noticed an elaborate grandeur that might now seem burdensome in English. On the fourth page, an ad from a car dealership promised that the audio systems in its vehicles provide “sonorité et confort.” Sonority is an acceptable English word, but not one you would normally see in a car ad. A few pages later, a financial group declared that “nous avons à coeur nos collectivités.” The English shades of meaning of “collectivity” and “collective” are darker than those in French, which is why I think the political concept of “droits collectifs” should be translated as “group rights,” unless the proponents happen to be Leninists.
The job titles for OSM staff were given in French alone, and I was startled to see that they include a “chef de l’exploitation.” But maybe “operations manager” would sound equally strange to a francophone. In past centuries, the English language welcomed French words with a passion; in the 21st century, the flow occurs mainly in the opposite direction. (An example of this appeared among the OSM job descriptions: “webmestre.”) Yet the distinctiveness of Quebec English, compared to the English spoken elsewhere, is largely thanks to a modest influx of new French expressions. I’ve spoken before about “dinatoire,” which arrived in Montreal English in the context of gala social events but has now begun to slip into other circles — last fall, the Montreal Gazette published a list of upcoming events that included a “Syrian fundraising luncheon/dinatoire” at a local church.
A more recent example, by contrast, involves trash talk. This month a school board in Quebec City told the drivers of its school buses to consider the potential impact on children of talk radio that may feature “language or subject matter less suitable for their young age.” After the terrorist attack on a local mosque, Mayor Régis Labeaume had condemned those “who create and sell hateful products” — a comment that many took to be aimed at certain radio stations. Reporting on the school board’s decision, the CBC News website ran the following headline: “Use discretion when tuning into radio poubelle, school-bus drivers told.”
The stations in question are widely known in French as “radio poubelle,” along the lines of “presse poubelle” — a phrase that conveys what in English we sometimes call the gutter press. Garbage can or trash can — the literal translation of “poubelle” — is a more graphic image than “gutter” of the racist hatred these broadcasters emit. Perhaps in the English language spoken in Quebec, “radio poubelle” will soon be a sadly familiar idiom.