Second State

Lucy Wadham — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 19:30:15 +0000

At what point in the acquisition of a foreign language do you start to feel the balance tipping from ineptitude to mastery? When you’re no longer several conversations behind at a dinner party? When you’re no longer translating from English? When you can be funny, or when you start dreaming in that new language? For me, I think the turning point came when I realised that I could actually be a different person in French to the one I was in English. Language is, of course, a receptacle for the dominant myths and prejudices of a culture. So it was that in French I found I could be intellectual without being pretentious, I could be coquettish without being moronic, and I could be fiery without being hysterical. It is an incredibly liberating feeling, the moment you realise that you can be more than one person and get away with it.

The word con, France’s ‘C’ word is an interesting one and its uses are rich and subtle. Rarely employed for its original meaning (the female genitalia), it denotes, primarily, (both as an adjective and a noun), stupidity. Con is relatively gentle in comparison to its English counterpart. Indeed, in certain situations it can be used lightly and affectionately. Here are some examples:

Con comme un balai/comme une valise: As stupid as a broom/suitcase.

C’est pas con: that’s clever.

Mon con: my friend.

Eh ben, mon con: Well, my friend.

Oh, con!: Goodness gracious! (mostly used in the South West)

Couillon: a linguistic cross between couille (testicle) and con (stupid), meaning particularly stupid.

The Secret Life of France » con

Second State