INTERVIEW

 

Lyda: When did you become interested in languages as an object of study?

Gaston: I think it all began when I was learned English, French, German and Latin at school. Only then did I realize that Limburgish, the vernacular we spoke in our region, the southern Dutch province of Limburg, was a language in its own right, not just some sort of informal Dutch. It was an epiphany to me that Limburgish, like English and French and the rest, had grammar rules, vocab and sounds substantially different from Dutch. I'd never stopped to think about that before. It was learning other languages that opened my eyes. Or my ears, rather.

 

Lyda: Did your upbringing play a role in developing your language interests?

Gaston: I'm sure it did. My mother is quite finicky about using le mot juste, both in Dutch and in Limburgish. My father was a French teacher, (which explains the choice of my name Gaston), my first girlfriend was German and most of the TV shows I watched, like The 6 Million Dollar Man and M*A*S*H, were in English, with Dutch subtitles.

 

Lyda: Did you become aware of the language of the elite by growing up in the upper-class?

Gaston: Certainly not; I'm from the "middlest" middle-class background imaginable. The only elitist family thing that I can remember dates to well before I was born: When my father went to a teachers training college at the age of 17 to become a teacher, my grandfather would write him letters in French. In my granddad's childhood, around 1900, French was still the elite language in our part of Limburg, and as an adult he wasn't above a bit of snobbery.

 

Lyda: You are the author of 'Lingo: Around Europe in Sixty Languages', published in the US two years ago. It's a linguistic travelogue that takes the reader through Europe, examining sixty languages. How did you plan the book? Describe for our readers the experience of writing such a book.

Gaston: It actually grew very organically, out of some purely recreational writing. Feeling that these first few pieces were quite promising, I wondered what their common denominator might be, and I settled on this 'languages of Europe' theme, which proved to be highly inspiring. The book was first published in Dutch and got excellent reviews. I then decided to be reckless and have it translated into English at my own risk and expense. That has worked out wonderfully, because thanks to my agent Caroline Dawnay and the very perceptive publisher Mark Ellingham at Profile Books, it became something of a bestseller in Britain. Other editions, including the American one, have also done very satisfactorily. There are seven different language editions now. The main gaps are, much to my distress, Italian and French. I would really love to see Lingo published in those two languages. There is a wonderful Spanish edition, so Lingo in a Romance language is definitely possible!

 

Lyda: Could you explain to our readers the influence of powerful personalities on the development of languages. In your book, you describe how often one particular person with a strong dedication saved a language from extinction, or promoted a certain variety of a language. Did you notice the politics behind the choices for promoting one language or language variety over another one?

Gaston: Yeah, it's true that, with hindsight, many languages owe a lot to one or two persons. Perhaps they fought for its recognition or their books had a strong impact on the standard language. Martin Luther has been important for German, Dante for Italian. These are household names, but further to the East, there are all these 'fathers of the mother tongues' that most Western Europeans and Americans haven't heard about. Some of those may indeed have saved their language from extinction or at least marginalization. For instance, in Lingo I tell the story of the Slovak linguist and nationalist Ľudovít Štúr. Despite his efforts, Slovak didn't attain an official status until the breakup of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, and it was only after Slovakia broke away from Czechoslovakia that the language really came into its own. These things work both ways: just like Slovak was in need of a country in order to flower, so Slovakia was in need of a language to claim nationhood. I'm simplifying things here, but nationalism and 'languagehood' are often considered to go together, especially in Europe. I'm not so sure that's a good thing. Nation and language make for a heady mix, even a toxic mix. Catalonia is the latest example of the tensions this can create, and similar conflicts have occurred all over Europe.

 

Lyda: What project are you working on now?

Gaston: I'm working on a book which is due out in late 2018, about the most widely-spoken languages in the world, from English, Mandarin and Spanish to somewhat lesser-known languages such as Tamil, Swahili and Vietnamese. Even though English is today's world language, only one in eight or so people in the world can speak it with any degree of fluency. This book will be about most of the other seven. As in Lingo, every chapter will have its own angle. For the one about Vietnamese, for instance, I'm actually trying to learn the language, and I'm going to spend a few weeks there soon. The chapter on French will be about the strong emphasis on la Norme and about Paris's dislike for minority languages. Article 2 of the Constitution says that "La langue de la République est le français", a legal fiction used to repress minorities' cultural rights. A self-confident nation that likes its citizens free and diverse would never make such an authoritarian claim. Oh boy – this is not a smart move to find a French publisher, is it?

 

Lyda: Since we're both Dutch, I can ask you whether you believe that the more laissez-faire cultural style in the Netherlands has allowed for less standardization, less push from the powers-that-be to conform to one language standard, and more acceptance of varieties in the language.

Gaston: I believe the Dutch situation is more or less like that in English: there is a standard, but except in spelling, considerable variation is tolerated today, both regional and in levels of formality. What is peculiar about the linguistic culture of the Netherlands is the tendency to be lackadaisical about the future of the language. Universities are fast becoming English-only areas. As a result, the future elites will not be able to explain their fields of expertise to laypeople – that is to people like you me, because we're all laypeople in most fields. We may well lose the Dutch vocabulary for whole areas of human knowledge and endeavor. I may not lose sleep over it – I mean, climate change is worse – but I would consider it a great cultural loss.

 

Lyda: Since your travels and your language observations are so closely tied, do you consider yourself a linguist, or a geographer or what?

Gaston: I'm a linguist, but my type of linguistics requires a lot of historical and geographical knowledge. As it happens, one of my future projects will indeed concern itself with geography – with borders, to be exact. But I'd rather not elaborate at this stage.

 

Lyda: I've been particularly impressed by the style of the writing. You must have a very good translator for English. I'm very curious to read the Dutch version to see how some of the passages were written by you in the original.

Gaston: Thank you! Yes, Alison Edwards did an excellent job. So did most of the translators into other languages, by the way. It has been an absolute joy working with most of them, not only because they're such dedicated professionals, but also because having this book about languages translated into, say, Spanish or German has forced me to look at some languages afresh, from the perspective of these particular target languages. I've even been giving talks to translators in several countries about this aspect of Lingo.

 

Lyda: Anything else you'd like to add?

Gaston: One relevant fun fact is that I performed as a singer-songwriter for seven or eight years. I think it taught me the importance of drawing in an audience. The experience has definitely changed my writing, made it more personal and I hope more engaging. It has also taught me how to give talks. I used to be terrible at them, and now they're one of my favorite things to do.

YouTube, en essayant d'en capter le ton et les tournures de phrase. Vicente est également attentif au ton et au débit de ceux qu'il lui arrive d'interpréter. Si Trump crie, il crie aussi; si le candidat chuchote, il chuchote aussi. «Il nous faut mimer, en langue étrangère, ce qu'ils font,» dit-il. Vicente a interprété le débat présidentiel dans la même pièce que les interprètes d'Hillary Clinton et que le présentateur des informations du soir de la NBC, Lester Holt, qui animait le débat. Tous étaient assis face à face, si bien qu'ils pouvaient réagir en temps réel vis-à-vis des autres et du candidat qu'ils interprétaient. «En étant assis dans la même pièce, nos voix n'empiètent pas les unes sur les autres» explique-t-il. «Mais, si les candidats parlent en même temps, alors nous interprétons aussi en même temps.» Vicente exerce maintenant ce métier depuis près de cinquante ans. Au fil des ans, il a interprété de nombreux candidats et présidents, de Ronald Reagan à Barack Obama, en passant par Bill Clinton et George Bush père et fils. Toutefois, la politique n'intervient pas lorsqu'on interprète des personnalités politiques, dit-il. D'ailleurs, lui-même interprète des gens de tous bords et à l'occasion d'événements de toutes sortes. «Il faut faire fi de toute politique et se borner à faire son boulot».

 

 We are delighted to welcome to our blog a new contributor, Juliette Scott, Ph.D. In 2011, Juliette  created the blog From Words to Deeds: Translation and the Law, with the aim of building bridges between translation and legal professionals, and between academia and practice.

As a legal linguist with 25 years’ experience in translation and training, Juliette works for law firms, national and international institutions and companies of all dimensions, and is currently engaged in a new project for the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies at the University of London.

Looking to 2017, Juliette has set herself a new challenge – to address the gap in regular events for legal translation practitioners with a conference that reflects the philosophy of the blog: authoritative content, openness, and, last but not least, incorporating plenty of smiles.

The overall aim of the conference is to bring together practitioners from translation and the law with cutting-edge academics in the field, and to provide high quality CPD (continuing professional development), as well as initiating conversations across the three groups.

WordstoDeeds Conference 2017, Legal Translation to the Next Level, is taking place on 4 February 2017 at the prestigious Gray’s Inn, London where barristers have been trained for over six centuries.

————-

Gray's Inn has been home to lawyers since at least 1388. Today, the four Inns of Court (Lincoln's Inn, Inner Temple, Middle Temple, and Gray's Inn) are responsible for the education and training of barristers before and after their Call to the Bar. [1]

 

 

    

               Gray's Inn Hall                                          The inner square at Gray’s Inn                                                     

 (1:37 minutes)

 

The Foundations of the Inn

Gray's Inn originally formed part of the Manor of Purpoole belonging to the de Grey family, the probable source of the current name. Sir Reginald de Grey, who died in 1308, was Chief Justice of Chester and Sheriff of Nottingham.

In 1370 the Manor House is described for the first time as a "hospitium" (a hostel). It seems probable that the "hospitium" was a learned society of lawyers who housed apprentice lawyers in their ‘chambers’. The students used the Hall of the Manor as an ‘Inn’ in which to dine and hold their legal debates and ‘moots’ which formed part of their training.

 

The coats of arms of the four Inns of Court

 

The Golden Age

During the 16th century, the Inns prospered greatly, attracting a broader culture – good manners, courtly behaviour, singing and dancing came to the fore. The period was known as the “Golden Age” of the Inn, and Queen Elizabeth I herself was the Inn’s Patron. At this time the Inn was renowned for its “Shows” and there can be little doubt that William Shakespeare played in Gray’s Inn Hall, [2] where his patron, Lord Southampton was also a Member.

Tradition claims that the Great Screen was built from the timbers of the Nuestra Señora del Rosario, the flagship of the Andalusian Squadron of the Spanish Armada in 1588. Diagonal rope marks can still be seen on the woodwork.

The stained glass within the Hall was moved to safety during the Second World War and thus preserved.  Some of the exquisite windows in the Hall date back to 1462.

Did you know?

Those studying to become barristers must belong to one of the four Inns of Court and, since the 17^th century, in order to be called to the Bar, students must, as well as passing their exams, dine at their Inn – today at least 12 times.

 

Another unusual fact – traditionally English barristers must never shake hands. There is much speculation as to why, perhaps involving trust and ‘gentlemanly’ behaviour. Recently, however, some members of the profession have begun to break with this tradition.

 

Famous names at Gray’s Inn

Among those linked with Gray's Inn, Francis Bacon (1561-1626), statesman, philosopher, jurist, scientist, orator, linguist, Attorney General and Lord Chancellor of England was trained at the Inn and became its treasurer.

Leading figures also include five archbishops of Canterbury, and Master of the Inn Sir Winston Churchill and Mr Franklin Roosevelt first met in 1918 at the high table within Gray’s Inn Hall.

Juliette Scott

 

Bloggers notes:

[1] Gray's Inn has a special sentimental significance for me. My mother, who was apparently the first woman barrister in Britain (a distinction claimed by a contemporary of hers who also completed her law studies in 1922) was enrolled at Gray's Inn, which is the subject of this article.
Jonathan Goldberg

[2] In Great Britain and certain Commonwealth countries there are two kinds of lawyer: barristers and solicitors. Barristers (called trial attorneys in the United States) have two roles – to give legal opinions and to represent their clients before the Courts. The word “barrister” goes back to the time when courts had a wooden bar behind which the judge sat and barristers pleaded from the other side. The expression “to be called to the bar” is used in England and elsewhere to refer to a person that earns the right to enter the profession of barrister. Although the word “barrister" is not used in the United States, all American lawyers must be members of the Bar and registered with the Bar Association in order to practice.

Solicitors, on the other hand, deal with wills, conveyancing, and other legal duties. They cannot plead in Court, apart from certain cases in magistrates’ courts. The work of a solicitor might be compared with that of a notary in France. In the United States, notaries are not lawyers. Their duties consist of authenticating signatures, a service for which they generally charge 10 dollars.

A barrister’s offices are referred to as “chambers”. A person learning the profession of barrister is a “pupil” and the final stage of training at a barrister’s chambers is called “pupillage”; those learning to be solicitors are known as “articled clerks” or “trainee solicitors”.

In England at the present time, the professions of barrister and solicitor cannot be practiced concurrently.

[3] The article “Satirical expectations: Shakespeare’s Inns of Court audiences”, published by the Société Française Shakespeare considers the relationship between two plays and their late 1590s audiences. After establishing the influence of the men of the Inns of Court as an audience “segment” in this period, it argues that both Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night and Marston’s What You Will respond to some of the shared experiences and interests of this group.