Nuances of the French Accent
I’ve been learning French for eighteen years now, and interacted with my fair share of native speakers within the last fifteen years of that education. During this time, I’ve also had the opportunity to unwittingly conduct a comprehensive study of French accents. My subjects have had varying levels of English ability, from complete fluency to, I’m proud to say, worse than my French at this point. Let me be clear, the intention of this piece is not to mock or denigrate, though I will admit, I obtain no small amount of pleasure from hearing those who take such delight in correcting my French stumble in English. I simply wish to share some of my observations. Perhaps this could be a useful field manual for an aspiring thespian.
The primary difficulty that Francophones have with an English accent, or any English learner for that matter, are those sounds that are non-existent in their native language. Though as English speakers we agonize over the French rs, uires, oues, and more nasally sounds, the French have an equally difficult time with English. Among these sounds are: the ths, the rs, the hs, the shs, and the ws. The lispy th is absent in French, as it is in many other languages, which leads to its classic alternative, the z. “Zis is ze zermometer” (this is the thermometer). The r in French is always pronounced with a bit of guttural sound, giving the characteristic exemplar: “Argh you thrghee people forgh dinnergh?” (are you three people for dinner). Interestingly, this aspirated r is a sound that English speakers overuse when learning French. The lack of an h sound in French is the last of the standard trifecta popping up where it shouldn’t be and disappearing where it is needed, give us the funny sounding “Ow argh hue? Can hue give me an elping and with zis happetizergh?” (How are you? Can you give me a helping hand with this appetizer).
The shs and ws are a little more subtle. The sh does not exist in French, only the ch. Imagine the difference between the start of champion, shampoo, and champagne in English. Note how the start of the French-originating champagne sounds like an English sh. The French ch is a much lower sh sound, one that emanates lower in the mouth. So, both the sh and ch sounds in English sound like a deep sh with a French accent. The letter w also doesn’t exist in French, and neither does the sound. With a French accent ws in English sound very breathy, and sometimes almost guttural in an attempt to force a consonant sound prior to the breath. So, all together now it would be “Hooere is zis number on ze shart?” (where is this number on the chart?)
In addition to the basics, another aspect of the French accent is the pronunciation of English words that have a Latin origin, particularly the one spoken by the French. English is a mutt of languages, Germanic in origin, but a pidgin of different influences due to wars, colonization, and trade, particularly with its neighbours across the channel. As such, a native French speaker, despite being moderately proficient in English will often default to an extremely French sounding pronunciation when faced with words that have equivalents in French. The more challenging the word, the more likely that the speaker will revert to French. A good example is “bureaucracy”: even though the word is pronounced quite similarly in both languages, assessing the jumble of vowels in English is often too much, so the word just becomes pronounced in French. Other common examples are “entrepreneur”, “renaissance”, and “marmalade”. My personal favourite is the absolute refusal to refer to a “patio” as such, but rather “terrace”, with a French accent. Quebecers, no matter how bilingual, will always refer to poutine as poo-tin, instead of poo-teen. In fairness, that is how it is pronounced.
The last giveaway, the most subtle, is French syntax that is grammatically correct, but uncommon in English. French sentence structure is similar to English, and so are the parts of speech. This leads French speakers to believe that the entire language is congruent. One such example is the usage of the possessive “to have” for things that are communicated with “to have” in English. In French, one has hunger and thirst, which are grammatically incorrect in English, but not having desire, which means to want. Few people will say “I have a desire to travel” in English, but its French equivalent is much more common. As a result, French speakers are more likely to express want that way.
Like this are the expressions “that’s it” and “tell me”. In English, “that’s it” indicates a eureka moment, a lightening bolt of pure epiphany, but “c’est ça” in French merely expresses approval and agreement. “Tell me” is a command in English, a mother speaking to a child, or a police officer speaking to a perpetrator. In French, “Dites-moi” is also a command, but more akin to the millennial expression “spill the tea”. Still, both are completely comprehensible to an English speaker, and technically correct. The cutest way I’ve seen this interaction play out is with friends who have spent too much time with francophones, and it bleeds into their language, despite being better English. “Tell me” in particular is one I like a lot and employ: when used in English it can also express excitement about the topic being shared.
The last, are French sounds. The ones most commonly used are: bah, euh, and pfft. They all exist in equal parts in English, but are used with much more abandon in French. “Bah” is self-explanatory, an expression of disgust. “Euh” means the exact same thing as its English cousin, “uh”. It just comes from further down the throat, similar to how the French “sh” is a deeper version of the English one. “Pfft” is the most interesting sound, and it comes in two varieties. The first is the sound of exasperation, the rapid exit of air through loose lips. The second is a sound of helplessness and is usually accompanied with a shrug. The lips are more tightly pursed, and the resulting sound is a higher-pitched buzz. Even when the French speak English, they employ these noises to make themselves understood, and somehow, they do help in communicating their message. Incidentally, these are also useful the French language learner who wants to sound more French: throwing these into French speech is a surefire way to gain credibility amongst native speakers.
And there they are, my tips and tricks for sounding French when speaking English. It’s crazy to think that I’ve spent more of my life learning French than not. Despite thus, my French is certainly heavily accented, to the point where I’m likely still stuck on the English equivalents of virtually all the tics I pointed out. But hey, at least I can do a sick French accent.
