Know how in every sword and sandal epic you watch, everyone speaks British English?

Generally, secondary Latin textbook Ecce Romani avoids TheQueensLatin by having most of its featured stories written in, well, Latin. Every once in a while, however, the textbook’s authors connect two stories about our heroes, the Cornelian family, with a short interlude in English. And when they do, hoo boy:

As Cornelia and Eucleides entered, the innkeeper was bringing forward a young man to introduce him to the couriet. “This is Decimus Junius Juvenalis, sir, a soldier like yourself.” The tabellarius, unbending slightly as a rather haggard young man came forward wearing the insignia of a junior officer, dismissed the inkeeper with a look and said pleasantly enough, “Greetings, young man! Where are you from?”

“I’m on my way back from service in Britain, sir. What a place! They don’t have any climate there, just bad weather! Mist, rain, hail, snow—the lot! Hardly a blink of sunshine!”

“Let me see!” said the tabellarius. “Who’s governor of Britain these days? A chap called Agricola, I hear.”

“That’s right!” replied Juvenalis. “A madman, if you ask me. He’s not content with conquering the bit of Britain that’s near Gaul, where you can get something profitable, like silver or wool or hides or those huge hunting dogs. Before I left, he had gone to the very edge of the world where the Calidonii live. They say that there, in the middle of winter, the sun doesn’t shine at all! But I can’t vouch for that myself!”

I see what you there with complaints about climate, Ecce Romani. Now, to be fair, the book’s authors are Scottish, and inevitably, one’s own voice patterns creep into what one writes. Still!

This may be what compelled the publication of Latin for Americans, which, from what little I’ve looked at, feels the need to put! exclamation points! everywhere! Which makes it more like LATIN FOR BRIAN BLESSED that Latin for Americans, but maybe nobody noticed over the sound of so much excited grammar.

Ah well, Ecce Romani is nothing if not endearing. Stay tuned for more Ecce posts, including my middle schoolers’ casting choices for its bizarre assortment of characters, and a tribute to the fossa. Yes, former Latin students, THAT fossa.

Valete!

~Corinna

Allez, Viens! is by the same publisher that brought us Komm Mit! Unfortunately, I do not know French. I only know the necessary phrases for daytrips to Montreal… and since Montreal is one of the most bilingual cities in the world and Canadians are very nice people, this means that I’m limited to things like “thank you,” “I’m sorry,” and “exit closed ahead.”

My n00bishness means that I’m probably missing all sorts of hilarity that Allez, Viens! has to offer, but I can still find a few things! Like the following picture, which is part of an exercise entitled “Making suggestions, making excuses.”

“How about going to the cafe?” asks the boy in orange, because as many textbooks have taught us, the cafe is the epicenter of all culture and human interaction.

“Sure!” his friend with the highwater pants agrees, genre-savvy enough to know that if the cafe is where he can pick up a heteronormative love interest if he tells her his likes and dislikes correctly.

But his friend with the Pecs of Doom—seriously, they are perfectly distinguishable even through his shirt—has other plans! “Sorry,” he says with a smirk as he ogles the woman in yellow by the ticket counter, who is curiously devoid of hands. “I have a lot of things to do.”

That’s what she said.  Look at that confidence! Handless Yellow Blouse Girl is totally checking him out, and they haven’t even shared interests yet! Go get ‘em, Pecs of Doom Guy. You don’t need to make excuses for us!

~Elfriede

Let it be noted that this is a creepy dialogue between two boys named Marcus and Sextus, from an older textbook called Latin for Beginners. This book obeys the First Commandment of Latin Textbooks: that thou shalt follow the continuing adventures of two boys, and their names shalt be Marcus and Sextus. Never any other names, because goodness knows the Romans had about ten other praenomina to choose from.

Sextus starts off the dialogue by looking for Marcus:

Sextus: Where are you, Marcus? Where is Quintus? Where are you, friends?

Marcus: I am with Quintus in the forest, Sextus. We are not alone; there are many other boys in the forest.

Whoa, hold on a minute. Just imagine this dialogue being spoken by hollow-voiced little boys in tunics running through the woods. And if Sextus is close enough to be able to talk to Marcus, yet asks him these bizarre questions, is he in a trance or something? This whole dialogue reads fishy. And, maybe it’s just me, but “many boys in the woods” just conjures up images of Lord of the Flies.

Sextus: Now you are happy, but recently you were not happy. Why were you miserable?

Marcus: I was miserable because my friends were in another place and I was alone. Now I am with my companions. Now we are and will be happy.

His friends were in “another place?” That’s some unsettling vagueness right there. And not only are they happy, but they will be happy. The use of the future tense erimus in the Latin is just so definite and forceful.  HAPPY FOREVER IN ETERNAL DAMNATION? We will see.

Sextus: Were you in school today?

Marcus: Today we were not in school, because the teacher was sick.

Sextus: Will you soon be in school?

Marcus: My friends will be there, but I will not.

Anti-social behavior! The mysterious non-presence of authority figures and the rejoicing in their ills! The plot thickens…

Sextus: Why will you not be there? The teacher, always angry, does not praise your lack of zeal and diligence.

Marcus: Recently I was sick and now I am weak.

THERE YOU HAVE IT. Marcus, corrupted by his “friends,” has slacked off in school and life. He has gotten sick, and has been weakened by that sickness. Yet, he clearly has time for bizarre expeditions into the woods with Quintus. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that these are clear symptoms of being lured out and preyed upon by vampires.

You can’t fool me, textbook—as a child of the 1990s and a young adult on the 2000s I got to enjoy Buffy and give Twilight the MST3K treatment. I know a blood-sucking fiend when I see one, and these Roman schoolboys are definitely blood-sucking fiends. Of the PROPER evil seducing adversary to-be-staked variety, no less, not the emo stupid hair “oh I cannot prey on humans, woe is me, I shall drink blood bank blood for I have a soul” variety.

I mean, maybe it IS just an exercise in to-be verbs, but where on earth is the fun on that?

~Corinna

From the bountiful pages of Komm Mit! comes our friend Florian, sometimes called Flori. Florian was noteworthy to my German class for three reasons:

1. He bore a strange resemblance to one of my friends.

2. He was the first character to have a ponytail, thus ingratiating him to the goth-stoner dudes who formed roughly 70% of the class population.

3. He wore the following shirt.

Dubbed “the Rastafarian Tomato” by my teacher, this shirt makes us wonder. What does “Fresh Jive” mean? What type of fruit is that supposed to be? Is the striped part its hair, a hat, or part of its skull? THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW.

~Elfriede

In our last entry on what I now know is Kuulostaa Hyvältää (darn textbooks, using the title of one as a tagline for another) we met Jutta, Anssi, Anna, and Kari, who have Finnish language adventures in a blue screen approximation of the city of Helsinki. Perhaps in a misguided attempt at literary merit, this series begins, like the epic poetry of yore, in medias res, with the relationships of our characters already established. Thus, this book skips the previously alluded to Ritual Sharing of Interests. That said, it nevertheless includes another time-honored tradition in series designed for language learners—the grocery store trip. Here, our protagonists, who are made more identifiable due to the fact that like us, they eat, purchase forms of nourishment which are suspiciously both basic and generic.

Observe Jutta and Anssi in the grocery store. I am assuming they are shopping there together because Anssi is currently too chickenshit to ask Jutta on a real date:

“What do we need?” asks Anssi, maybe hoping that Jutta will answer him with some line cribbed from a romantic comedy. Jutta, in turn, appears fixated on the soft drinks.

“Look, I’m going to make a concentration face and count off on my fingers all dramatically, and WE’LL TOTALLY CALL THAT ACTING, OKAY?”

I wonder if there’s instant kiisseli behind them in that aisle. I could really go for some kiisseli right now. But never mind me. What’s on Jutta’s shopping list?

Well, since we’re in Northern Europe, how about an abundance of dairy products?

Incidentally, Jutta actually does mention that she’s buying Flora brand margerine, which I find oddly pointed for a language video. PRODUCT PLACEMENT? IN MY FINNISH CLASS? IT’S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU’D THINK.

Anyway, Anssi decides that such modest portions are not for him, and takes it upon itself to fill the grocery cart accordingly:

Apparently huge cartons of strawberry yogurt > regular yogurt, and sugar is a balanced part of one’s diet. The rest seems to be Anssi’s elaborate effort in communicating his intentions towards Jutta, much like a male bird showing off his plumage. The coffee says I’M FINNISH, while the Lapin Kulta beer and sausage adds AND MANLY, and finally the chocolate caps it all off with …BUT SENSITIVE. Truly, a complex and subtle message. Will Jutta’s handiness with languages enable her to figure it out?

Of course, Jutta is busy pondering whether or not the tomato she wants to buy is made of plastic. Psssst, Jutta. It is plastic.

Then we arrive at the painful ending to our shopping trip. Like episodes of the original Star Trek, language videos sometimes feel the need to end an episode with a punchline. What they forget is that they lack the charm of William Shatner to carry these punchlines across.

And yes, anything that makes Shatner look like he has charm is indeed that painful. Without any further ado, this episode’s stellar choice of ending:

“But how on earth will we tell our groceries apart?” says Jutta in understated despair.

“Oh, that’s easy,” says Anssi helpfully. “Anything healthy is yours, while anything unhealthy is mine.” They share a knowing chuckle. Ohoho. I cannot help but join them in their amused laughter.

—well, that’s not true, actually I can.

Man, I thought the stereotype that guys ate nothing but crap while girls have actually heard of a vegetable was the product of American sitcoms, but according to this textbook, it is the universal thread that ties all cultures together. Or something. Personally, I have half a mind to devour an entire box of Panda licorice now, just to prove it all wrong. Finnish candy, anyone?

~Corinna

I strongly suspect the designers of Discovering French had themselves just discovered a photo-editing program with an “insert text bubble” function, because they have abused this feature with all the zeal of an overenthused scrapbooker. They practically dot the pages of the book like measles.

Needless to say, many of these speech bubbles are odd. This one below, just gets weirder the more I think about it. It’s like a Magic Eye poster of weird:

I have a Canadian girlfriend, says the boy in the picture.

Then why does he have a look on a face like he’s trying to pick up the other girl?

Or is just that the girlfriend’s Canadianness makes him horny?

Why does the girl look like she has a migraine?

WHERE IS HIS HAND?

I… I don’t even want to know.

~Corinna

First, a word from our spokesperson:

Thank you, ARybak!

This week’s installment comes from a Komm Mit! dialogue devoted entirely to clothing, as our friends for this chapter debate what to wear to their friend Sonja’s party. Katja and Julia first contemplate this little number right here:

Katja: “What are you wearing to Sonja’s party? A skirt? A hoodie?”

Julia: “I’m wearing my track suit.”

Katja: “And I, my shorts. I need something new, however—a blouse or a T-shirt. This one is too old and I don’t like it.”

Well, at least they know that shirt is hideous. +1! But -2 for thinking that a hoodie and skirt are interchangeable, and that a track suit is trendy party attire.

They go shopping and bump into their friend Michael. Michael is showing off his new purchase:

Michael: “How do y’all like my new T-shirt?”

Katja: “Dude, hideous!”

Michael: “Really? —Whatevs, I think it’s striking!”

Yes, that is a squirrel. A pink, poorly-drawn squirrel. Juggling. +1 to Katja and Julia for being appalled, but I think bigger questions are raised, such as why such a shirt exists in the first place.

Katja and Julia make it to the store, where Katja finds herself a new shirt.

Oh. Oh, Katja. Note that the text reads “TEXAS: SO HOT IT’S COOL.” A rational person is probably thinking that this shirt is incredibly tacky, and that you could find hundreds just like it at any kitschy tourist shop in the Lone Star State. Our friends here, however, are not rational people. I’m going to post the dialogue in its entirety so you can experience it for yourselves.

Julia: “Fantastic, Katja! I find this very awesome! White is a good color for you.”

Katja: “Ya rly, white is my favorite color, you know. What does this shirt cost?”

Saleslady: “21.5 Euro.”

Katja: “What? So much? That is expensive.”

Saleslady: “That isn’t just any old thing. A wonderful T-shirt!”

Julia: “Yeah, whoever wants to be beautiful must pay, right?

Katja: “This is great for the party. Good, I’ll take it.”

You know, I take back what I said before. My grandparents used to live in Houston, and though our drives took us past shops with such labels as “GRAVES GUNS AND UPHOLSTERY,” I don’t recall ever seeing anything quite that awful. The shirt I got at the Riverwalk gift shop in San Antonio was actually rather nice! So the saleslady is absolutely right: that shirt is one of a kind.

+100 to the saleslady for getting someone to buy that thing at that price. -100 to everyone else forever. I wish many happy returns to Sonja. Given her guests’ attire, this birthday party is going to be memorable.

~Elfriede

Tavataan Taas! centers around four friends living in and around a blue screen totally Helsinki in the 1990s. Together they study, work, go to the pub and the grocery store, and sing patriotically in front of a screencap of the Sibelius monument totally the Sibelius monument. Totally.

Let’s meet our cast!

We’re supposed to identify with Jutta because she is a German exchange student and speaks very, very slowly. Just like we do! As we will see later, Jutta can be something an insufferable know-it-all in re: healthy food and grammar. It’s like if Hermione Granger were an incredibly bland foreign language textbook character with any former vestige of her former asskicking self sucked away by Dementors. Or, if Hermione Granger were written by Steve Kloves and dubbed in Finnish. You decide.

Anssi isn’t a student and isn’t from Helsinki—he’s from Vantaa. I find no good reason to mention that he’s from Vantaa other than I stayed in a hotel in Vantaa once. Anyway. Anssi is probably the closest person in this robot cast to resemble an actual Finnish person, since he actually does bother using idiomatic phrases and is something of a shy, awkward derp who could use six beers come Midsummer. His awkwardness carries over to his interactions with Jutta, on whom he has a rather unfortunate crush. It’s okay, Anssi! A few conversations about what can be found at the grocery store and in Stockmann should have her swooning over you. Maybe. Or you could just get her rambling about the partitive.

Anna is a history student, and yes, she always looks that smug. Her accessory husband is named Kari, and we suspect he’s spotted a UFO.

Shh, Anna, the mothership is contacting him.

Or possibly he just smoked a joint before this video. It’s cool, Kari. You’re in the proud tradition of KStew and RPatz on the set of Twilight. We don’t judge.

Or OR, maybe Kari is intensely closeted and inwardly feels disgust at his wife’s rather forward advances.

He can fake the awkward PDA when it counts, though. And man, do Kari and Anna ever know how to exhibit awkward PDA.

OH GOD. PLEASE STOP. I’M GOING TO HAVE NIGHTMARES.

Forgot to mention: Anna may also be an axe murderer.

Let’s end with a shot of our four friends posed like Helsinki tourists. I couldn’t tell you why Anssi wears a t-shirt while the rest of them are rocking long sleeves, but maybe he comes to Vantaa by way of Rovaniemi or something. Whatever’s going on, I doubt they’ve had enough salmari to be grinning like that. And after this post, neither have I.

~Corinna

Before the bizarre glory of Treffpunkt Deutsch became a key aspect of my undergrad experience, I was slogging through high school German with Holt’s Komm Mit! series. Komm Mit! is unusual in that it doesn’t have a core group of recurring characters. Instead, each unit relocates to a new town and follows a new group of friends. Our very first group includes Holger and Tara. Holger has a crush on Tara, but there are are DRAMAZ.

Holger partakes in the Stilted Sharing of Interests ritual that is necessary for deepening friendships in language textbook land. He says that tennis is lamesauce. Tara replies that tennis is her favorite sport—and how! Holger furiously tries to backpedal to no avail.

Despite Tara finding Holger sehr nett, she still goes out of her way to be passive-aggressive later that day. “Hi, Holger! We’re going to play tennis. Oh, but too bad, you don’t like tennis! BYE.”

NUUUUUUU! Holger is destroyed, and has only himself to blame! How shall he express his anguish and self-hatred?

…Like this, apparently. And no, it wasn’t any better in motion.

~Elfriede