Harrap's French Connection
December 2008

By Dougal Campbell, French language tutor at Glasgow University, freelance translator and contributor to Harrap French titles


Literary man dies, as does gag in doubtful taste

Libération came out with what could have looked like a heartless and inappropriate punning headline, if the dead man had been anyone other than François Caradec; "Caradec se carapate": "Caradec scarpers" or "Caradec scrams".

I looked up Caradec, whose work I had known since his admirable Dictionnaire du français argotique et populaire, in The Oulipo Compendium (eds. Mathews and Brotchie) and found, in Caradec's own Oulipian bibliography, In preparation : Posthumous Works, proof that Caradec would not have minded the pun at all.

So... if "se carapater" corresponds to "scram, scarper or beat it", register-wise, what is its etymology? Caradec's dictionary does not give any etymologies for anything; for "se carapater" he gives only "v.pr. s'enfuir".

The Robert is half-certain and half-uncertain: "étym. avant 1881; se carappater 1867, de patte et peut-être argot se carrer 'se cacher'". The 1990 Larousse Dictionnaire de l'argot has "mot-valise très expressif, formé de 'se carrer', 'se cacher' et de 'patte', mais à rapprocher également de 'patater', 'pataler', verbes dialectaux signifiant 'galoper'".

On the way past, let's swiftly notice that "mot-valise" is translated by "portmanteau word". So, still on the subject of "se carapater", Claude Duneton, in his wonderful Guide du français familer, agrees on 1867 for the date of first appearance, but of the non-reflexive form. All agree, though, that the word was in circulation at the end of the 19th century.

It therefore would not surprise me in the slightest to find "se carapater" in the work of the writer whose unbeatable biography Caradec wrote, namely Alphonse Allais.

Caradec was clearly influenced by Allais' writing style and café-going habits, grew the same kind of moustache, and has now carried imitation a little too far by dying. I remember with great affection and admiration his many appearances on France Culture's dazzlingly clever and funny Des Papous dans la tête.


That's advertainment

Spooky coincidence: typed that frightful ad-speak portemanteau word, and the Chanel advert with Nicole Kidman, the advert with the budget of a small country and pretensions to be a mini-film, popped up on the TV. On the ever-interesting Masse critique on France Culture (late November) the word came up, "en anglais dans le texte", along with an explanation from the presenter – "mélange de publicité et de divertissement".

There was also a more wordy spin on it from the ad-man being interviewed; its aim is to "marier le monde des marques et le monde du divertissement" and to "mettre en scène des marques".

The same programme also brought us "c'est du placement de produit rudimentaire", referring to Matt Damon using a Macbook on-screen, and even "c'est du produit-placement, comme on dit."

I've no doubt French ad-men do say precisely that, when they're not simply talking about "product placement" in English. "De la publicité clandestine" still seems like a more accurate description: "underhand advertising", even "illicit advertising". Du foutage de gueule, comme on dit.


Back to Caradec and grumpy old Blimps

In the Nouvel Observateur, in his tribute Patrice Delbourg wrote of Caradec's "exquise bougonnerie de type scrogneugneu", gleefully using one of my favourite French words. Imagine it as the sozzled grumpy grumbling of a French Colonel Blimp, barely able to articulate "sacré nom de Dieu", with the result that it comes out as "scrogneugneu". Gloriously, as a noun it translates "grumpy old man" (vieux bougon), and will do very nicely for "Colonel Blimp". Colonel Blimp was originally a wartime David Low cartoon character, a bloated reactionary ex-military man who thought the country was going to the dogs, and then Powell and Pressburger filled in his back-history in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943).


Where did that word come from all of a sudden?

As is so often the way, you're unaware of a word and then it suddenly pops up at least twice. I was initially unconvinced by the translator's choice of Dreams from the Endz for Faïza Guène's second novel, Du rêve pour les oufs, despite her note saying that it had the author's backing. My mistake; not living "dahn sahf", and not being a Tim Westwood-style wigga, I'm not down with the kids, talking about the 'hood or indeed the endz. It appears to be a fair UK or at least London equivalent for "téci", the verlan of "cité", but with a strong emphasis on the feeling of belonging, of a limited and fiercely-protected tribal territory. "Endz" then prompty turned up again in The Guardian, and has been heard on Radio 4, so presumably hip youngsters have moved on to something else by now.


Please contact the author with any comments and similar amuse-gueule snippets of French, at D.Campbell@french.arts.gla.ac.uk

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