Leith on language
Sweet taste of second tongues
Sam Leith
“Do you have an ice cream?”my wife asked the guy in the buffet car on the Eurostar in French, waving her can of beer in a friendly way. After a moment of mild confusion, he smiled and handed her a plastic beaker. My wife’s very slight Geordie accent—and assumption that “glass”in French is the same as the English word—had led to her unexpected question.
A weekend in Paris (chief finding: if you get the chance to have lunch at Les Enfants Rouges this is a chance you should seize with both gourmandising mitts) has been a rebuke not just to her, but my, schoolchild French. How odd it is that even as you hear how faltering and tone-deaf you sound, you are powerless to do better—implying that your grasp of the cadences of a second language long outlives your grasp of its grammar and vocabulary.
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