Bhuel, to answer the title question, braitheann sé.  It depends.  You might remember “TSAGGSSL” from the last blog.  No, it’s not some permutation of “Yggdrasil” or a new companion to the smallish list of words with 8 letters but only one vowel.  Yes, there are some examples of those 8-letter wonders in languages like Béarla and Gearmáinis and perhaps i dteangacha eile (for samples, féach nóta 1 thíos).

So what is TSAGGSSL, aside from seacht gconsan agus guta amháin?  It stands for “Tá súil agam go gcuidíonn sé sin leat.”  IOW, “HTH.”  At least for most purposes, it would mean the same as “Hope this helps,” but without the edge of sarcasm that “HTH” sometimes has.  I say “for most purposes” since HTH, like many abbreviations, has more than one meaning (hand-to-hand, etc.).

And what exactly does “Tá súil agam go gcuidíonn sé sin leat” mean?  “Hope is at me that that helps with you,” in other words, “Hope this helps.”  Broken down further:

Tá                   súil      agam    go       gcuidíonn       sé         sin       leat

(there) is +       hope + at me + that +  helps +            it +       that +   with you.

“Súil,” as many of you will recognize, also has a more literal meaning, “eye.”  There is another word for hope in Irish, “dóchas,” which is usually used more abstractly, and which also shows up in the place name, “Rinn an Dóchais.”

Our “Tá súil agam …” sentence  is in the singular, addressing one person, as marked by the word “leat.”  We could also use “libh” for “with you” (plural), but the acronym would still come out the same.  For that matter, we could also substitute “againn” (at us) for “agam,” to make the wish come from more than one person (i.e. if several people helped to solve the problem).  But again, the acronym would still be the same!

Did you notice the two words “that” in the sentence?  The first one (“go”) introduces indirect statement, as in “Deirim go bhfuil sí ann,” “Chuala sé go raibh sí ann,” or “Thug sé an leabhar go raibh sí ann.”  The second one, “sin” [shin] is the demonstrative adjective, as in “an fear sin” or “an bhean sin.”  In Irish, the demonstrative adjective is often combined with pronouns (like “sé,” it), to give the sense of “this (thing)” (sé seo) or “that (thing)” (sé sin).

A few pronunciation tips: gcuidíonn [GUDJ-ee-un], eclipsed after the word “go” (that); sé [shay]; sin [shin]

Of course, I guess if we’re really going to acronymize “I hope that this helps you,” we could do what English does and shorten the entire concept.  In English, instead of saying “I hope that this helps you,” we reduce it to “Hope this helps.”  So if we drop the ending in Irish, we could just have “TSAGG” or even just “SAGG” – but I like having the initial “t” – tá cuma níos Gaelaí air, sílim.  Does this remind you of all those initial-ts words in Irish?  Like “(an) tsráid,” “(carr an) tsagairt,” and “(airgead an) tsliúcaiméara”?  Or a few more choice examples, like “(an) tsliosfhuinneog,” “(an) tslime,” “(an) tslachtmhaireacht,” or “(ainm an) tslatóra.”  Remember, “s” is silent after an initial “t” in Irish (an tsráid [un trawdj], etc.).  So, if we pronounced the acronym TSAGG as per Irish rules, it would sound like “tag,” which sounds appropriate for the context, vaguely computery-jargony.  BTW, English has only a handful of initial-ts words.  An cuimhin leat iad?  Muna cuimhin leat, féach sna nótaí thíos (2).  Of course, in Irish, the “ts” combination only occurs due to a trigger from a preceding word, like “the” before certain nouns starting with “s.”  These include feminine singular nouns (an tslat, an tsnáthaid) or the possessive forms of masculine singular nouns (sleán an tsleánadóra)

But to get back down to earth, and to deal with practical applications of the “HTH” idea, there’s no reason you have to make an acronym out of it.  It would be perfectly fine to use the full phrase, as given above, creating variations like the following:

Tá súil agam gur chuidigh sé sin leat.  I hope that helped you

Tá súil agam go gcuideoidh sé sin leat. I hope that will help you.

Tá súil agam go gcabhraíonn sé sin leat.  I hope that helps you (using “cabhraigh” instead of “cuidigh” for “help”).

Tá súil agam gur chabhraigh sé sin leat.  I hope that helped you.

Tá súil agam go gcabhróidh sé sin leat.  I hope that will help you.

And now how, I find myself wondering, has this concept been acronymized in other languages as well?  How ‘bout TMADGBESACL? GMH? Or JEQCTA or EEQCTA (although I’m getting a little out of my Celtic comfort zone with the last two!).  Cad iad siúd, in ainm Dé?  Féach nóta 3 thíos.  

As for whether the acronym form of “HTH” is widely used in Irish, or even in the other languages directly above, I’d say probably not.  I have a hunch that English is one of the most acronym-prone languages out there, to the extent that there are lots of protests against acronymization (e.g. Jeff Atwood’s http://www.codinghorror.com/blog/2006/02/dont-acronymize-your-users.html).  Hmmm, “anti-acronymizationism (?)”!  But meanwhile, it sure gives us an opportunity to explore stórfhocal [STOR-OK-ul] na Gaeilge.  Tá súil agam go raibh sé seo cabhrach.  Or “HTH’d.”  Hope this helped (at least to explain the acronym sa bhlag roimhe seo).  SGF, Róislín

P.S. Hmm, can I “past-tense-ize” HTH as “HTH’d”?

Nóta 1: Focail fhada nach bhfuil ach guta amháin acu:

A. Béarla:

Strength: it’s unusual in English that both the 3-letter cluster “str-“ joins up with the 4-letter ending “-ngth,” but here it is – ocht litir, guta amháin.  The ending “-ngth” is pretty rare in and of itself, but it’s only with the initial “str-“ that it real chalks up points for near-vowellessness.  The other two examples of final “-ngth,” “length” and the quite obsolete “youngth,” simply have fewer consonants in proportion to the vowels.

Schnapps, tagann an focal seo ón nGearmáinis, “schnaps” (gan ach “p” amháin).  “Schnapps” i nGaeilge?  Focal atá i bhfad níos giorra [shorter] – “sneap” [shnap].

B. Gearmáinis:

Naoi litir agus guta amháin, mh’anam!: “schrumpfst”

Ocht litir agus guta amháin, reasonably “mh’anam-ish” freisin: “schwimmt.”

Again, what can I say, but nach iontach na cairn chonsan iad?  (carn, here, “cluster,” often “heap, mound”).  So, of these two German words, which means “he/she/it swims” and which means “you shrink”?  More or less a “tabhartas in aisce,” déarfainn.

C. Gaeilge: i nGaeilge, bhuel, ní fhaighim ach focail le seacht litir agus guta amháin ina measc: “(i) bhfadhb,” “(i) ndrúcht,” agus “(i) bhflosc,” mar shamplaí.  Níl mé ábalta smaoineamh ar aon fhocal a bhfuil ocht litir aige nach bhfuil ach guta amháin ann.  An féidir libhse?  N.B. Ceist eile ar fad í ceist na bhfocal fada nach bhfuil ach an guta céanna iontu, mar shampla, “adhantach.”  

D. Teangacha eile: Polainnis?  Sanscrait?  Moltaí ar bith agaibhse? 

If any readers can think of some other one-vowel goodies i dteangacha eile, it would be fun to see them.  Please do write in.  Irish has lots that are seven letters with one vowel, as we just saw, especially when we apply urú (eclipsis).  It has some really long words with proportionately few vowels, ach sin ábhar blag eile.  And then there’s always “na hadhbha” and “na hadhbhtha” but, guess what, sin ábhar blag eile freisin!

Nóta 2: Focail A Thosaíonn le “ts” i mBéarla:  These are all I could find, and they’re all focail iasachta (loan words).  In Irish, these words just start with a regular single “s.”  An féidir le duine ar bith agaibh smaoineamh ar cheann ar bith eile?  Additional suggestions welcome!

Ón Rúisis: tsar (czar), tsarina (czarina).  I nGaeilge?  Sár, Bansár, No initial “t” of “sár” unless possessive (mac an tsáir, the son of the tsar).  “Bansár” has the “ban-“ prefix and so would never get an initial “t.”

Ón tSeapáinis: tsunami, súnámaí; tsuzumi, susúimi (a type of Japanese drum).

Ón tSuáinis: tsetse fly, seitse [SHETCH-uh].  Note that “cuileog,” the actual word for a “fly” in Irish,  isn’t part of the term; it’s just “seitse.”

Nóta 3 (An tAcrainm i dTeangacha Eile?)

TM ADGBESACL? Tha mi an dòchas gum bi e seo a’ cuideachadh leat (or “… gu bheil e seo …”) (or “leibh,” etc.) (Gaeilge na hAlban)

GMH? Gobeithio mae’n help (or “… helpu”) (Breatnais)

JEQCTA or EEQCTA? “J’espère que ca t’aidera” or “en espérant que ca t’aide.”  Or plural forms: JEQCVA or EEQCVA for “vous”? (Fraincis)

Gluais: adhantach, igneous, inflammable; moltaí, suggestions; Rinn an Dóchais, The Cape of Good Hope; smaoineamh, to think, to reflect; Suáinis, Tswana (a language of southern Africa); tabhartas in aisce, a giveaway; thug sé an leabhar go …, he swore that … (lit. he gave/took the book that …)

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Pronunciation notes always seem welcome here, so here’s another batch, this time for the discussion of na míonna, from the previous blog (nasc: http://www.transparent.com/irish/ce-mhead-la-sa-mhi-how-many-days-in-the-month/). 

That blog seems to have generated a lot of lenition (séimhiú), so we’ll certainly be looking at that here.  Urú (eclipsis), hmm, I only see one example.  An meas tú sin!  We’ll also look at a few other points, like word stress (which syllable is emphasized) and various vowel sounds.  Ag tosú le séimhiú, with the usual disclaimer, that this is just an overview, for selected examples, not an córas go hiomlán!

I.   Séimhiú

1. after “cé,” the word “méad” (amount) becomes “mhéad” [vayd]

2. after “sa” (in the), “mí” (month) becomes “mhí” [vee] and “cairt” (chart) becomes “chairt” [khartch]

3. after “ar” (the particle changing the question “An maith leat …?,” do you like …?, to “Ar mhaith leat …?, would you like …?), “maith” (good) becomes “mhaith” [wah, or “vah” or “wai” (like “why”) in some dialects)

4. after “ceithre” (4), “mí” (month) becomes “mhí” [vee]; lenition follows the numbers two through six, for most nouns

5. on an attributive noun or adjective after a feminine singular noun, like “bliain.”  This time, can you find the example (in the last blog), instead of me just writing it in?  Freagra (1) thíos.

6. lenited sounds in the middle of a word: Fómhair [FOH-wirzh], Feabhra [FyOW-ruh], and Samhna [SOW-nuh, with “sow” like “now” or “cow,” not “tow” or “snow”] have a “w” sound; the “t’s” of “laethanta” (days)  and “Meitheamh” are silent [LAY-hun-tuh], [MEH-huv]; slender medial “ch” (flanked by e or i) is basically breath, as in “fiche” (20) [FIH-huh]; broad medial “ch” (flanked by a, or u) is guttural, as in “tríocha” [TREE-uh-khuh].

7. lenited sounds at the end of a word, typically silent or very softened: deireadh [DJERzh-uh], bhisigh [VISH-ee or VISH-ig in Munster Irish], Mithimh [MIH-hiv], Meitheamh [MEH-hiv]

II. Urú: after the preposition “i” (in).  Can you find the sampla?  Leid: initial “b” is eclipsed by “m.”  Freagra (2) thíos.

III. Gutaí:

1. ue – I think “bhuel”  is the only word in Irish that has this spelling (explainable by its being borrowed from English).  It’s like the short “e” of “well,” not like “gruel” or “flue.”
2. aoi – like “ee” in English, as we’ve discussed previously (naoi, faoi, etc.)
3. eo – usually “oh” in Irish, as in “teo” (plural of “te,” warm, hot); also “ceo” (mist, fog), Tóiceo, teoranta (limited, as in company names), but not like the two main exceptions, “seo” [shuh] or “anseo” [un-SHUH]

IV. Béim: cén siolla?  There’s a lot of variation as to which syllable is stressed in an Irish word, but the dominant pattern is “stress on the first syllable.”  As a point of comparison, English, I would say, is notoriously varied in this regard (produce section, to produce, a graduate, to graduate, regard, regal, window, endow, etc., etc., etc.), so English isn’t very useful as a basis of comparison (although overall I’d say more words are stressed on the first syllable).  French, in contrast, if I remember my “Clouseauais” correctly, is fairly consistent in stressing the last syllable (fiancé, fiancée, Paris [par-EE], fromage, buffet, ballet, etc.), so one can emphasize the last syllable of most words and sound sort of French, as did Inspector Clouseau, who, I imagine, referred to the “pink panTHER” when discussing the theft of the jewel.  A rusty memory, that, so I guess I’ll put that on my next Netflix instant list.  For current purposes, we’ll just look at the one main exception from the January 20^th blog: amháin [uh-WAW-in], with the “WAW” and “in” run together, almost like one syllable

V.   And, as a final note, we saw one permanently lenited word, “bhuel” (well), pronounced “well,” similar to the English, from which it is borrowed.

So, that’s a bit more pronunciation help.  HTH.  Hmm, that (HTH), abbreviated in Irish, would be “TSAGGSSL,” or something to that effect.  And what exactly does that unpronounceable abbreviation stand for?  Ara, isn’t it grand the cliffhanger that that would be.  So hang on tight, till next blog.  SGF, Róislín

Freagraí: 1) lenited attributive noun: bhisigh, in the phrase “bliain bhisigh,” leap-year, lit. year of increase; you may already know “bhisigh” from its basic form, “biseach” (improvement, increase), as in “An bhfuil biseach ort anois?”; 2) urú: i mbliain [im-lee-in]

Gluais: Meas tú sin! Roughly equivalent to “What do you know?” or “What do you think about that?” or “Imagine that!” or “Just imagine!” or “Fancy that!”  Literally, it’s from the verb “meas” (judge, deem, consider).  Normally we’d expect the “-ann” ending typical of present-tense verbs (first conjugation!), giving us “measann” but for this particular verb, the ending is optional, especially when the phrase is used as a rhetorical question.  Word endings aren’t usually optional, but this verb seems to follow the same pattern as established by “deir / deireann,” where both forms exist, with “deir” more common, at least i mo thaithí féin.

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(le Róislín)

A reader recently posted a question about how to say how many days a month has.  Bhuel, ar mhaith leatsa lion isteach na bearnaí sa chairt seo?

Oh, and dála an scéil, the months in this chart are not in chronological order.  Don’t want it to be too much of a giveaway!

Leid:

Tá tríocha lá (30) ag ceithre mhí.

Tá lá is tríocha (31) ag seacht mí.

Tá ocht lá is fiche (28) ag mí amháin ach amháin i mbliain bhisigh nuair a bhíonn naoi lá is fiche (29) ag an mí seo.

For any given month, to say it has X number of days, the pattern is, “Tá X lá ag Eanáir.”  As many of you will recognize, we’re not really using a verb that means “to have” here.  Instead, we’re showing possession in the typical Irish way, saying the object is “at him” (at me, at her, etc.) using “aige” (agam, aici, srl.).   So, for example, “September” has 30 days would be: Tá tríocha lá ag Meán Fómhair.  Remember, the word for “day” stays singular (i.e. it remains as “lá”).

Is there any rhyme in Irish equivalent to “Thirty Days Hath September” in English?  Bhuel, in fact, tá.  But I don’t think it’s anywhere nearly as well known as “Thirty Days.”  When I was in school every child knew the English rhyme “Thirty Days,” it seemed.  And I guess it gave us one of our early introductions to the history of the English language, if we stopped to think about it.  To recite “Thirty Days Has September” (without the “hath”) just doesn’t have the same panache!  That’s especially true when we consider that the rhyme goes back to the 15^th century, when “hath” would have been the normal verb form.

But, lo and behold, there is an Irish equivalent to “Thirty Days,” published (and perhaps composed by) An tAthair Peadar Ua Laoghaire (1839-1920), an early Irish language activist, scholar, and writer.  Slightly updated, to account for the spelling reform of the 1950s, it reads like this:

Na Laethanta i nGach Mí

(leis an Athair Peadar Ua Laoghaire, le litriú caighdeánaithe)

Tríocha lá a bheireann siad leo

Samhain, Aibreán, is na Mithimh teo.

Lá sa bhreis ag gach mí eile,

Ach an Feabhra thiar ar deireadh,

Gan aige ach ocht lá is fiche –

Naoi lá is fiche sa bhliain bhisigh.

Of course, this isn’t literally an equivalent to “Thirty Days.”  For one thing, you can see that there are only three names listed as having thirty days: Samhain, Aibreán, and na Mithimh.  The key thing is “na Mithimh” actually represent two separate months, the middle month of summer (June) and the middle month of Autumn (September).  In Irish, summer (samhradh) traditionally means May, June, and July, and Autumn (Fómhar) is August, September, and October.  The spring had March as a middle month and December was the middle month of winter.  “Mithimh” could refer to all the middle months but only June and September would be part of “na Mithimh teo” (the warm middle months).  “Teo” is the plural form of “te” (hot, warm).  The “mithimh” idea survives as the modern Irish word “Meitheamh” (June).

Very literally, this version means:

Thirty days they take with them / November, April, and the hot middle months

A day extra at each other month / But February left back at the end,

With only eight days and twenty [even more literally: with only 8 days and 20 at him]

Nine and twenty in the increase-year [leap year].

And if anyone would like a rhyming (and hopefully catchy) translation of Ua Laoghaire’s version in English, I can offer this adaptation.  Loosely translated, like poetry usually is.  Of course, I’d really recommend learning the Irish version, but, hey, there’s no reason not to have more rhymes!

The Days of the Months

(translated by Róislín, based on the poem by an tAthair Peadar Ua Laoghaire)

Thirty days have these all,

November, April, mid-summer, mid-fall,

The other months have one day more

But February is two days poor

With 28, three years in four,

But leap year gives it one day more.

For more on the history of the leagan Béarla of this rhyme, you might want to check out this recent article by Rachael Misstear, http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/need-to-read/2012/01/16/welsh-author-digs-deep-to-find-medieval-origins-of-thirty-days-hath-verse-91466-30128447/.  Iontach suimiúil, nach ea!  SGF, Róislín

Freagraí don chairt: 1. Bealtaine, May, 31; 2. Deireadh Fómhair, October, 31; 3. Feabhra, February, 28/29; 4. Mí na Nollag, December 31; 5. Eanáir, January, 31; 6. Márta, March, 31; 7. Meitheamh, June, 30; 8. Aibreán, April, 30; 9. Mí na Samhna, November, 30; 10. Lúnasa, August, 31; 11. Meán Fómhair, September, 30; 12. Iúil, July 31

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The last few blogs have dealt pretty intensely with meaning and slight differences among comhainmneacha (synonyms).  Here we’ll look at a much more down-to-earth aspect of some of the same words – how to say them.  We’ll look at a few of the longer and more complex ones (tláithíneacht, neamhghontacht, m. sh.) but we’ll also look at some shorter, more basic words that illustrate some major points of Irish pronunciation, some from the blogs and others from general vocabulary.  Some samples will involve the widespread Irish phenomena of lenition (séimhiú) and eclipsis (urú), but we’ll also look such specific issues as lenited sounds in the middle or at the end of words and also some vowel sounds.  Like most blog-length approaches to this topic, though, this is just barr an chnoic oighir (or rinn an oighearchnoic, or the “bior” thereof, if you prefer).

I. Lenition (séimhiú, lit. softening)

Lenition of initial consonants occurs for over a dozen reasons in Irish, so I’ll just focus on a few here.  Lenition is generally marked by the insertion of the letter “h” after the initial consonant (cat becoming chat, m.sh.)

a. After the numbers 2 through 6, except for, well, na heisceachtaí (the exceptions)

Ceithre fhocal [KyEH-ruh OK-ul], four words

Cúig fhrása [KOO-ig RAW-suh], five phrases

Exceptions include some (but not all) units of measurement: ceithre bliana, sé seachtainí

b. Directly after some (but not all) prepositions, some, but not all of the time (a chapters’s worth of issues there!)

Gan mhaith [gahn wah], useless, lit. without good, but “gan tús gan deireadh” (the d and t resistance)

Compare: ó Bhéal Feirste (from Belfast; lenition) but “go Béal Feirste” (to Belfast; no lenition)

Nóta: I say “directly” here because the entire set-up changes if words like “an” or “mo” are present.  Blag eile!

c. Marking nouns that are “possessed,” either literally (Jimmy’s coat) or more abstractly (often involving compound prepositions like “de réir” or “os cionn”)

Let’s start with some real workhorse examples, not from the recent blog series: cóta Shéamais, seomra Shiobhán, iníon Mháire, madra Chaitlín.  Some basic examples of the compound preposition “os cionn” are os cionn an bhoird (above the table, normally “bord“) and os cionn an gharáiste (above the garage, normally “garáiste“)

Looking at our recent blogs, we don’t have to go any farther than the title of the series for “de réir“:

de réir Fhionntán Uí Thuathail [… IN-tawn ee HOO-uh-hil, note that the “f” of “Fhionntán” is silent, as are the “t’s” of “Thuathail”]

Note that if we didn’t include the surname, the spelling and pronunciation of “Fintan” would change  slightly: de réir Fhionntáin [… IN-taw-in, with the “taw” and “in” running together very smoothly], this means “according to Fintan.”  Likewise: de réir Mharcais [WAR-kish], de réir Mhatha [WAH-huh] (according to Mark/Matthew)

Lenition also occurs after “Uí” in surnames, which is also an aspect of possession, albeit very abstract:

carr Uí Thuathail [… ee HOO-uh-hil, as above], O’Toole’s car, the car of Ó Tuathail

Sráid Uí Chonaill [srawdj ee KHON-ill], O’Connell St.

Bean Uí Mhurchú [ban ee WUR-uh-khoo], Mrs. Murphy, lit. the wife/woman of Ó Murchú

There are many more situations in which lenition occurs, but that’s a sample, for now.

2. Eclipsis (urú, lit. eclipsing): adding a new initial consonant and obscuring the pronunciation of the original one

a. After the preposition “i” (in)

i gcrobhaing [ig-ROW-ing, the syllables more or less run together], in a cluster.  In this transcription, “row” is as in “row-boat,” not as in “a row” (the latter being the “row” often paired with “ruction,” thanks to Tim Finnegan)

i mbannaí [im-AHN-ee], bail, as in “ag dul i mbannaí air” (to go bail for him)

This also occurs, of course, with many place names, like

i mBaile Átha Cliath [im AHL-yuh KLEE-uh], in Dublin, with the middle word “Átha” basically swallowed into oblivion

i mBostún [im OST-oon], in Boston

b. With plural nouns in the genitive case, following the definite article “na”

tráth na gcomhainmneacha [traw nuh GOH-AN-yim-nyukh-uh], the time of the synonyms (“Synonym Time,” structured like “Tráth na gCeist” [… nuh gesht], which some of you may recognize from the popular quiz name)

This structure also occurs in many widely used phrases like “leabhair na gcailíní” and in a lot of place names like “Dún na nGall” [doon ung awl], Donegal, and “Baile na mBacach” [… nuh MAHK-ukh], Ballynamockagh (Co. Galway).  In the latter, the anglicized version reflects what has happened to the initial “b” of “bacach” – it has been eclipsed and only the “m” sound is pronounced.

III. Lenited sounds in the middle of a word

One good thing about this feature of Irish pronunciation is that it rarely changes.  Once a word has such a sound medially, it will usually remain intact no matter what other changes may happen at the beginning or the end of the word.  Here are some examples from the recent blogs:

diabhal [DJEE-uh-wul OR djowl], devil, with the “bh” approximating a “w” sound

le haghaidh [leh hai], for.  The “-gh-“ in the middle is silent, serving simply to give us an /ai/ sound for the vowel, pretty much the same vowel as in English “I,” “eye,” “my,” “pie” and “guide” (and now you can see why none of these English words is a good basis for a pronunciation guide).  In other words, “haghaidh” is pretty much like the English greeting “Hi!”  And btw, the vowel sound in this “le” isn’t at all like the French “le” (the) but it’s like the short “e” of “let” or “pet”

neamhghontacht [NYOW- γON-tukht] non-pithiness, probably not as commonly used as the positive form of this word, gontacht [GON-tukht], pithiness, but certainly there are possible usages, and it’s a nice example of four consonants in a row, due to lenition.  The final “-mh” makes the “-ea-“ vowel an “ow” sound (as in “cow,” or “ouch”).  The “g” of “gontacht” is lenited after the prefix “neamh-“ (non-, un-); linguistically, it is the voiced velar fricative that I’ve discussed elsewhere (Treoir don Treoir: A Guide to the Guide (for Pronunciation), Cuid a 2 (27 Iúil 2010), which is dedicated to the voiced velar fricative sound, and An Ghaeilge sa Leabhar _Galway Bay_: “Guilpín,” “Grá” agus Go Leor Eile (2 Mí na Samhna 2009), which discusses this sound in a few terms of endearment, such as “A ghrá!” and “A ghrá mo chroí!”

tarrtháil [TAR-haw-il], saving, bailout; the medial “th” is just pronounced “h”

tláithíneacht [TLAW-heen-yukht], mealy-mouthedness, soft-spokenness, wheedling, flattery, cf. tláith, weak; again, the medial “th” is just pronounced “h”

IV. Lenited sounds at the end of a word (usually very softened or silenced)

maith [mah], good, as in “gan mhaith” [gahn wah], without good (useless, etc.)

le haghaidh [leh hai], for.  We’ve mostly discussed this above, but note that the “-dh” of “haghaidh” is completely silent

V. Pronunciation of final “e’s” in Irish (as opposed to English)

In words like “déine,” the final “e” is never considered silent, although it may be barely audible or inaudible, if followed by another vowel.  For example, déine [DJAYN-yuh], austerity and déine an tsaoil [djayn yun teel], the harshness of life.  If one is articulating very carefully, the final “-e” and the “an” can be distinguished [DJAYN-yuh un teel]

VI. Which vowel is pronounced when there are two or three vowels in a row?

This could take several blogs to answer, but to pick just a few examples:

íobairt [EEB-irtch], sacrifice.  If one of the vowels has a long mark, only that one is pronounced.  Likewise,

Uí Thuathail [ee HOO-uh-hil], of O’Toole.  Again, just the long vowel of “Uí.”  Additional examples: déine, béal ([bayl], mouth, as in béalghrá), anróiteach [AHN-ROH-tchukh]

When neither vowel is long, the pattern sometimes has to be memorized, and there are noticeable variations:

deacair [DJAK-irzh], hard.  The “ea” is like English “bat” or “cat” (or like Irish bean, fear, or deas, but not like Irish “beag”).  The “ai” here is unstressed, because it’s the second syllable, so it’s not a very distinct vowel sound.  It could be considered a very short “short i” or almost a “schwa.”

mion- [min], mini-.  Basically a short “i” with the “o” mostly serving to keep the “n” broad.  Not like the “io” in “iontach” [EEN-tukh] or “iontas” [EEN-tuss], though.

In the case of “-ua” and “ia,” each vowel is pronounced, as in Ó Tuathail [oh TOO-uh-hil], crua [KROO-uh], diabhal [DJEE-uh-wul], and dian [DJEE-un]

Three vowels in a row?  Fadhb ar bith!  We’ve seen aoi [ee], a guest; faoi [fwee], under; and saoi [see], an expert, among others.

Bhuel, as noted above, that was just tip of the iceberg, but it’s a bit of a headstart.  If you have any specific pronunciation questions, please feel to write in.  SGF, Róislín

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Faoi dheireadh, an starr dheireanach!  Finally, the home stretch!  Cuid a ceathair as ceithre chuid (Part 4 of 4 parts).  Today’s blog will deal with the fifth of the cúig iontráil in Fintan O’Toole’s “Wasting Good Words on a Terrible Situation” (www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/opinion/2012/0103/1224309734610_pf.html).  I’ll repeat the SPOILER ALERT though.  You might want to wait until finishing an blag seo and the previous three sa tsraith cheathairchodach seo to read O’Toole’s article, since these four blogs are set up as a dúshlán to discover, via Irish, what English words he listed.

To quickly review the terms already covered in this series, seo cúig fhocal le meaitseáil:

1. déine                       a. difficult

2. tarrtháil                  b. austerity (1)

3. gátar                       c. sacrifice

4. íobairt                     d. bailout

5. deacair                    e. austerity (2)

If  you’ve just joined this dúshlán focal, the answers are sna trí bhlag roimhe seo: “austerity,” “bailout” http://www.transparent.com/irish/cuig-fhrasa-bearla-gan-mhaith-de-reir-fhionntan-ui-thuathail-aka-fintan-o%E2%80%99toole-cuid-13/; “difficult” http://www.transparent.com/irish/cuig-fhrasa-bearla-gan-mhaith-de-reir-fhionntan-ui-thuathail-aka-fintan-o%E2%80%99toole-cuid-24/, and “sacrifice” http://www.transparent.com/irish/cuig-fhrasa-bearla-gan-mhaith-de-reir-fhionntan-ui-thuathail-aka-fintan-o%E2%80%99toole-cuid-34/. Or just check na freagraí thíos.

At any rate, that brings us up to iontráil a cúig.  This one is a full-fledged seanfhocal, so instead of just listing comhainmneacha (synonyms), I’ll provide two keywords and see if you can piece the seanfhocal together.  It’s quite well known in English.

5. eochairfhocail (keywords): diabhal, mionsonra

But wait, it’s not quite that simple.  Or to paraphrase the pitchmen of the gnéchláracha fógraíochta, “Ach fan, tá a thuilleadh ann!”  

There are a couple of other possibilities for “mionsonra,” such as “mionphointe” or simply “sonra.”  The prefix “mion-“ can be added to “sonra” or to “pointe” to emphasize the miniaturizing aspect, and, of course it can also be added to hundreds, perhaps thousands of other words, like “mionarm” (small weapon), “mionchabhlach” (flotilla), “mionduirling” (small shingle-beach), “mionfheoil” (minced meat), “miongháire” (smile, soft chuckle), and “mion-ghnéchlár” (featurette).

For that matter, there are also a number of synonyms or nicknames (umm, “old”-nicknames?) for “an diabhal” in Irish, including “an giolla goillín (lit. the tormentor-lad)” “an mac mallachta (lit. the son of curses),” and “an t-áibhirseoir (the adversary).”  In fact, he goes by various names in English too, such as “Old Scratch,” “Mr. Splitfoot,” and “Old Nick.”  In today’s proverb, however, the most basic name, “devil,” is the one that applies.

There are still a few points to keep in mind with our “diabhal/mionsonra” proverb.  “Sonra” means “detail” and “mionsonra” is “minor detail,” but the words are sometimes used interchangeably.  “Pointe” can mean “point” in general, but also means “a particular (thing/aspect),” “a precise spot,” and “a distinctive trait;” I don’t think “pointe” is the best choice for “detail” here, since it can mean so many other things (including “headland,” “tip,” “direction,” etc.).  “Mionphointe” [MIN-FWIN-tchuh], though, means “fine point,” “small point,” or “particular detail,” so could be used here.

I looked for examples of this proverb in Irish online, and found, at most a mere handful of examples (about five!).  I was a bit surprised, since it is so widely used in English and seems to have a universal meaning.  How widely used in English?  1,370,000 hits worth.  In the search for Irish versions, I used all the variations for “detail” that I could think of.  That included both singular and plural forms for words like “pointe” (pointí), “mionphointe” (mionphointí), “sonra” (sonraí), and “mionsonra” (mionsonraí).  An interesting point is that in English, there is a split as to whether we’re just discussing one detail (or perhaps, with a bit of sineicdicé, one detail stands for all the detail) or whether we say “details” (plural).  At any rate, there is a fairly consistent split in English, with American writers tending to use the plural form (details) and both Irish and British writers using the singular (detail).

So if you want to translate this proverb with the plural sense, it would be: Tá an diabhal sna mionsonraí (sna mionphointí, sna sonraí, srl.), “the devil is in the details.”

O’Toole uses the proverb with the word “detail” in the singular, so that would be: Tá an diabhal sa mhionsonra (sa mhionphointe, sa sonra, srl.), “the devil is in the detail.”

At some other point, we can review the difference between “sna” (plural) and “sa” (singular), but that would definitely be at least blag iomlán eile.

Another thought that occurred to me in looking at this proverb is the possible use of the habitual form of the verb “to be” (which Standard English doesn’t differentiate).  So I also double-checked for examples with “bíonn” but found … tada (aka faic)!  “Bíonn” is routinely used in sentences that have adverbs like “i gcónaí” (always) or “go minic” (often), but even on its own, it suggests the habitual nature of an activity.  In theory, we could say “Bíonn an diabhal sna mionsonraí” (the devil does be in the details) but I found neither hide nor hair of that online either.

I also checked for fronting, which would be used for extra emphasis (Is sna mionsonraí atá an diabhal, etc.).  Diabhal amas a fuair mé mar sin (“Divil” a hit I got like that, that is to say, tada, rud ar bith, faic na fríde).

In other words, the picture is pretty clear.  This seemingly simple proverb just isn’t widely represented in Irish, at least not according to a fairly comprehensive search.  To the limited extent that I can find it online, it varies slightly in form (sonraí, mionsonraí, mionphointí) and it also tends to preceded or marked by a linguistic disclaimer, suggesting that the writers realize that they’re really using an English expression and translating it.  One such introductory phrase is “Mar a deirtear” (as it is said).  Another technique is to put the phrase in quotation marks.  Admittedly, that might be true of proverbs in general, but it seems to be all the more telling here, given the lack of Irish examples in a natural context.  Of the few places I found an Irish version of this proverb online, they were mostly translation sites, or primarily North American sites (or both together).  This suggests that the writers were aware that they were using an Irish version of a saying that is not traditionally found in Irish.  Which is done a-plenty these days, and makes life all the more interesting.

So, suimiúil, nach ea, that there should be so many examples of this proverb in English and so few in Irish, especially since Irish is rich in both humorous and threatening traditional expressions regarding the devil.  Some of these include  ”An rud a thig thar dhroim an diabhail, imíonn sé faoina bholg,” “Beidh an diabhal is a mháthair le díol,” and “Cead an diabhail acu!”  But the translations for those will have to wait for blag eile!

Meanwhile, getting back to O’Toole’s list, somehow, in the back of my mind I keep mulling over yet another Irish proverb as a near-ish equivalent to “The devil is in the detail.”  It’s certainly not a literal equivalent, and takes a somewhat different slant on the issues like maolú (obfuscation, mollification, lessening, reduction, dulling) and dorchú (obfuscation, darkening, being secretive).  But nevertheless, I’d like to suggest it as at least an angle on looking at deliberately obfuscated material, perhaps overloaded with mionsonraí:

An rud a scríobhann an púca, léann sé féin é.  (What the pooka writes, he himself reads, i.e. only he can read it).

So perhaps that suggests that some of the mealy-mouthed, jargon-laden doublespeak that we encounter in official documents could be written by púcaí, and that would explain it all!  An fíor dom é?  Bhur mbarúlacha? 

And further checking out bhur mbarúlacha, what do you think of O’Toole’s conclusion, that these words (austerity, bailout, difficult, sacrifice, the devil is in the details) not be used, except, as he says, “ironically and in inverted commas”?  Of course, I’m sure he doesn’t realistically expect the words will actually be outlawed or that íoróin (irony) will trump tláithíneacht (“mealy-mouthedness”, wheedling, flattery) or béarlagair an mhaorlathais (bureaucratic jargon) or ceol draíochta an bhéalghrá (the magic music of lip-service).   Or that uaschamóga will be diligently used where advisable.  O’Toole does, however, make a strong plea for society as a whole to devote more attention to issues such as “republic,” “democracy,” equality,” “justice,” and “sanity.”  So in some future blog, we’ll get back to those terms in Irish, and perhaps cúpla ainmfhocal teibí eile (and perhaps a few other abstract nouns).  But idir an dá linn, ábhair níos éadroime?  SGF, Róislín

Freagraí don “mheaitseáil”: 1b, déine, austerity (1); 2d, tarrtháil, bailout; 3e, gátar, austerity (2); 4c, íobairt, sacrifice; 5a, deacair, difficult

Gluais: amas, hit (in computer search); béalghrá, lip-service; ceathairchodach, four-part; éadrom, light; gnéchlár fógraíochta, infomercial (cf. gnéchlar, feature program); sa, in the (followed by a singular noun, as in “sa bhosca”); idir an dá linn, meanwhile; sineicdicé, synecdoche; sna, in the (followed by a plural noun, as in “sna boscaí”); sraith, series.

Nóta don iontráil “béalghrá”: as for “ceol draíochta an bhéalghrá,” thanks to Ruth Nic Giolla Iasachta (an t-iriseoir / drámadóir / scríbhneoir scripte) for that frása gonta (pithy phrase, which is, ironically, ar ábhar na neamhghontachta), from her article “Teannas agus Drochamhras” (http://www.beo.ie/alt-teannas-agus-drochamhras.aspx).  Both “ceol draíochta” and “béalghrá” are established, traditional Irish phrases, but the combination is, drmbansm, one of those moments of inspired journalistic phraseology.  In this case it neatly links Irish folklore (the “ceol draíochta”) with óráidíocht pholaitiúil thocsaineach (toxic political oratory), a rare combination!

Nóta don nóta: ar ábhar …, on the topic of …, drmbansm, my new acronym for IMHO, lit. de réir mo bharúla, ach nach saoi mé (according to my opinion but it’s not an expert that I am); neamhghontachta, non-pithiness

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