Bonheurs Et Surprises De La Langue by Académie Française (review)

Pauvre imbécile! In contemporary usage, such a judgment would be unequivocally negative. The recipient of this epithet would certainly be humbled, if not angered. This individual would take small comfort in the etymological journey of this exclamation, from an expression of pity to one of contempt. Yet such is its path, as documented by the Académie française. No need to wait for the latest print edition (begun in 1986) of the Academy's dictionary to document this evolution. Rather, navigate to the electronic site and explore the rubric Bonheurs et surprises. The present volume is a collection of the highly eclectic and entertaining selection of words and expressions that populate the electronic resource. Words are grouped based upon sound association, folk etymologies, semantic shifts, as well as whimsiness. Two case studies captured my attention. The first is the prolonged death rattle of the imparfait du subjonctif in a subordinate clause when the main clause contains a past-tense verb that meets certain semantic criteria. The Academy downgraded this usage from a rule to a tolérance in 1901. This shaky status lasted until 1976, when the present tense of the subjunctive was authorized. The conservative grammarians who recounted this drama responded to this "demotion" of the imperfect subjunctive by using it: "Il n'était désormais plus nécessaire que nous sussions conjuguer ce temps, que nous l'employassions à bon escient" (170). No prescriptive statement could convey the dethroning of this tense more humorously than this self-reflexive observation. By evoking the strange "noises" /ys/ and /as/ as verbal appendages, the contributors also appeal to sound symbolism to convey an unrecoverable function consequent to the dethroning of the imperfect subjunctive. Could the length of Cyrano's nose be "sonically drawn" by any tense other than this longest of simple verb forms? When Rostand puts forth the judgement "Il faudrait sur-le-champ que je me l'amputasse!" in Cyrano's tirade, the imperfect subjunctive sounds long and ugly to the modern ear. A reduction in the length of the verb (que je me l'ampute) would diminish the formidable size of this facial protrusion, and I might add, "prettify" it—associating this sequence of phonemes with pejoratives (connasse, dégueulasse, etc.). The analysis of grammatical shifts among the tenses of the subjunctive might not appear to be a particularly glamourous enterprise. And yet, another of the surprises revealed in these pages is the etymological relationship between "grammar" and "glamour." Simply put, glamour, originally meaning "magic," derives from grimoire, signifying a book of spells. Through spelling variants and semantic blending with Latin roots, the "trick" was accomplished. The words were on a parallel semantic path. After all, spells are only efficacious if they are articulated perfectly, without grammatical errors. Whereas this association will hardly increase enrollments, perhaps it will (magically?) enhance our appreciation of language stories, which have been booted out of the traditional curriculum, where functional and formulaic language dominates. Logophiles, "grammandos," literati, and philologists: Vous auriez craint qu'il n'existât point de livre destiné à vos intérêts? Le moment est venu!