The Awful German Language*

Those of you who know me well, and those of you who probably don’t know me so well, but have read this blog, will know that I love languages. Like a lot.

I just can’t get enough.

Well, I also like reading books by Arnaldur Indriðason. He’s an Icelandic writer who writes pretty gripping books. I’ve only just got into them after finding one on sale at Copenhagen Airport (The Silence of the Grave, well worth reading) and I decided I’d try to read all his books, but read each one in a different language. Why not? I also know the woman who’s translated some of them into English, so that made me particularly interested in checking them out.

After reading three, I realised I was going to have to read one in German. Argh. Although I studied German at university, feel really comfortable with the language and love speaking it with my friends, I hate reading books in German. Actually, I don’t know whether I’ve ever finished one (that doesn’t look too good from someone who did a German degree).

You just can’t relax with a German book, mainly because you often don’t know what the sentence is about until you’ve got to the end of it, when you’re finally given a verb.

For example (I made this one up myself):

The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. It was particularly memorable, because I the sweet little bird, which was singing so merrily on the branch outside my window, singing with such a beautiful sound, that there and then I realised I had reached a higher state of consciousness as I dressed myself and set off for work, with a spring in my step and a gleam in my eye, shot.

See what I’m saying?

You think the sentence is headed a certain way, and then you’re like ‘oh’. Sometimes, I have to stop reading and flick over to the next page, just so I can understand what’s going on. How can Germans sit down and relax with a good book?

P.S. You’ll notice mitchenstein has had a bit of an overhaul. You might notice that half of the William Booth quotes in the right-hand column have disappeared, but they’ll be back! You can sleep easy now.

* The title for this blog is, of course, not from me, but comes from a pretty funny article by Mark Twain – one little bit I really like:

"Every noun has a gender, and there is no sense or system in the distribution; so the gender of each must be learned separately and by heart. There is no other way. To do this one has to have a memory like a memorandum-book. In German, a young lady has no sex, while a turnip has. Think what overwrought reverence that shows for the turnip, and what callous disrespect for the girl. See how it looks in print--I translate this from a conversation in one of the best of the German Sunday-school books:

Gretchen: Wilhelm, where is the turnip?

Wilhelm: She has gone to the kitchen.

Gretchen: Where is the accomplished and beautiful English maiden?

Wilhelm: It has gone to the opera."