Authors talk with Authors:
William Alexander, a New Yorker, is the author of Flirting with French, in which he chronicles his often-hilarious attempts to learn French at the age of 57. Samantha Vérant, a Chicagoan/Californian, is the author of Seven Letters from Paris: A Memoir, in which she chronicles how she jets off to France to reconnect with a Frenchman she'd met over twenty years ago, ends up marrying him, and moves to France. Recently they had an online chat comparing their experiences learning -- and speaking -- French.
WA: One reviewer for Flirting with French began her review with, "The French will tell you there's only one way for an adult to learn their language: pillow talk. 'Ah, you need a French lover,' they say. 'Then you will be able to speak.'" You seem to have taken that advice literally. Was she right?
SV: Your reviewer has a point. Then again, I actually married my French lover, moved to southwestern France, and had to learn French quickly...or pretend I was a mute. In Seven Letters, I make so many faux pas, thanks, in part, to what I learned during pillow talk. For a while, I was petrified to say a word. (I call this my mouse-voice phase). But, I soon learned, for an adult to learn French, or any other language, we actually have to try to speak it, even if we put ourselves in extremely embarrassing situations. For me, failure wasn't an option. Today, if I mistakenly ask the butcher to pluck my feathers and tie me up like a chicken, it's no longer a big deal. And, the French, once they stop laughing with me, will correct my error. On your journey to learn the language, what were some of your most embarrassing moments?
WA: My desire to learn French may well have originated in a blunder in an outrageously expensive French restaurant when, instead of ordering veal (veau) for two, I blew our meager savings on kidneys from calf (veau) for two. But what led me to finally tackle French was actually a triumph, when a Frenchman asked me the time (a common textbook phrase I actually understood). And to my extraordinary good fortune it was exactly noon, another easy textbook phrase. "Il est midi," I coolly tossed off. "Merci," he said, and I replied, "De rien," (pretty much exhausting my French vocabulary), and this moment of liberation – this conversation – made we want more. Speaking of vocabulary, I was surprised that until last year the French had no word for "French kiss." So the 2104 Petit Robert dictionary invented one (galocher). Dictionaries (not to mention the Académie française) get to invent words in France? What else about the French approach to language should aspiring francophones be wary of?
SV: There are so many rules. And, surprisingly, there are many exceptions to those rules. For example, the French, oftentimes, don't pronounce the last letter of a word, which can lead to severe confusion. Here are a few examples: vert = green une verre = glass un ver = worm vers = towards. With regards to pronouncing the above words, there is no difference. Why? Plus, miscommunications happen with one tiny slip of a vowel. Mon corps (pronounced mon cor) or mon coeur! L'amour or la mort (la mor)!My body or my heart. Love or death! Sometimes my American accent slays me. Thankfully, my French husband and stepchildren correct my French. Still, there are certain verbs I can only conjugate in the present and the passé composé -- like améliorer in the reflexive, which, oddly, means to improve. Do you feel your French has improved? How do you feel about conjugations?
WA: The same way I feel about calf's kidneys. I know someone who studied French at the Sorbonne, and she said that one the first day all the students were handed colored pencils to help them with subject, verb, and adjective agreement -- the same method used with kindergarteners! It's a bit of a relief to hear that French is hard for the French. I reduced my conjugation issues by sticking with the present and passé composé tenses for all verbs, and calling everyone "vous," never "tu." This vous/tu business is a mine field, anyway. I created a flowchart to guide me, which was picked up by Le Monde where, to my horror and amusement, it was analyzed with gravity!
SV: Everybody in my world is "tu." Easy, cheesy, lemon squeezy. But put me in a room full of French strangers and I become a stuttering mess, always searching for the 'vous' form of verbs. When I explain that I'm an American and ask to 'tutoyer,' everybody says, "N'importe quoi." Thankfully, I've never met former French president Mitterrand, who a reporter once asked: "On se tutoie?" (Can we be familiar with you?) His response was: "Comme vous voulez." (Give me respect, damn it). The French usually double-kiss my cheeks...because, hey, at least I'm trying. Ah, yes, la politesse is alive and well in France, even today. But never 'tutoyer' a president. Ever.
WA: I'll keep that in mind. So, after thirteen months of intensive French study, using everything from those hoary Pimsleur tapes to an immersion class in France, I had to stop making the small joke that I still spoke French about as well as a three-year-old...when I actually met a French three-year-old and couldn't hold up my end of the conversation. By hitching your wagon to a Frenchman (and his country) it seems like you've reached at least the ninth grade -- félicitations! I'm afraid the best I can do over here is try once again to convince my wife to hire a French nanny. Even though our kids are grown. I'm probably not too many years from having to have my diapers changed.
SV: My stepdaughter, Elvire, would love to work in the US. Unfortunately, she's not too keen on becoming a nanny...and you may have lost her with the diaper changing. (I'll keep my ears open for other candidates). After nearly five years of living in France, my ability to speak French at a ninth grade level is a bit optimistic. I probably speak French at a fourth-grade level (if the fourth grader in question speaks slowly and doesn't use too much slang and doesn't have a thick southwestern accent). I don't know if I'll ever be 100% fluent in French, but, at the very least, I no longer sound like a cat coughing up a fur ball when pronouncing the French r. I celebrate all linguistic victories – great and small! So I raise a virtual glass of champagne to you. I dove headfirst into a new life in mid-life. You dove into a very challenging goal. And we both survived to tell our tales. Cheers! Vive la France!
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ABOUT FLIRTING WITH FRENCH: HOW A LANGUAGE CHARMED ME, SEDUCED ME, AND NEARLY BROKE MY HEART
William Alexander is more than a Francophile. He wants to be French. There's one small obstacle though: he doesn't speak la langue française. In Flirting with French, Alexander sets out to conquer the language he loves. But will it love him back?
Does he succeed in becoming fluent? Readers will be as surprised as Alexander is to discover that, in a fascinating twist, studying French may have had a far greater impact on his life than actually learning to speak it ever would.
ABOUT SEVEN LETTERS FROM PARIS: A MEMOIR
Twenty years, seven letters, and one long-lost love of a lifetime
At age 40, Samantha Verant's life is falling apart-she's jobless, in debt, and feeling stuck... until she stumbles upon seven old love letters from Jean-Luc, the sexy Frenchman she'd met in Paris when she was 19. With a quick Google search, she finds him, and both are quick to realize that the passion they felt 20 years prior hasn't faded with time and distance.
Samantha knows that jetting off to France to reconnect with a man that she only knew for one sun-drenched, passion-filled day is crazy-but it's the kind of crazy she's been waiting for her whole life.
see Samantha's book trailer below...!
