If the German gang here doesn’t know the funny essay by Mark Twain “The Awful German Language,” allow me to introduce you: The Awful German Language
Here are a couple of excerpts. You’ll get the gist.
Every noun has a gender, and there is no sense or system in the distribution; so the gender of each must be learned separately and by heart. There is no other way. To do this one has to have a memory like a memorandum-book. In German, a young lady has no sex, while a turnip has. Think what overwrought reverence that shows for the turnip, and what callous disrespect for the girl. See how it looks in print -- I translate this from a conversation in one of the best of the German Sunday-school books:
"Gretchen.
Wilhelm, where is the turnip?
Wilhelm.
She has gone to the kitchen.
Gretchen.
Where is the accomplished and beautiful English maiden?
Wilhelm.
It has gone to the opera."
A portion of Twain’s translation of “Tale of the Fishwife and Its Sad Fate:”
It is a bleak Day. Hear the Rain, how he pours, and the Hail, how he rattles; and see the Snow, how he drifts along, and of the Mud, how deep he is! Ah the poor Fishwife, it is stuck fast in the Mire; it has dropped its Basket of Fishes; and its Hands have been cut by the Scales as it seized some of the falling Creatures; and one Scale has even got into its Eye, and it cannot get her out. It opens its Mouth to cry for Help; but if any Sound comes out of him, alas he is drowned by the raging of the Storm. And now a Tomcat has got one of the Fishes and she will surely escape with him. No, she bites off a Fin, she holds her in her Mouth -- will she swallow her?
We’ll leave the cat, the fish and the rest, but you get the idea.
Obviously, this is tongue-very-much-in-cheek. But it expresses a common concern for English speakers, the apparently less than logical use of grammatical gender. Of course, there’s more. Frequently, the sheer length of words (“Generalstaatsverordnetenversammlungen” and the like tasked with being “alphabetical processions”) and comparatively rigid German syntax may induce fits.
But these are the complaints, joking or not, of someone who wants German to be … English. It’s not, and there is no reason it should be.
From the German perspective, I imagine English words must seem like logographs, with each carrying a rather arbitrary pronunciation that must be learned one at a time. And while English speakers tease that German verbs pop up at the end of sentences like actors making a stage call, Germans must certainly feel there is something odd about the willy-nilly placement of past participles and verbs in dependent clauses. I mean, are there no rules! Chaos, man, chaos!
All of this to say - German is its own creature. Yes, the grammar rules will likely seem complex and difficult to monoglot English speakers. And perhaps to others. But it has its own sonorities and lovely features, and those in abundance. Need a compound noun? Try, oh, Abendsonnenschein. There’s a reason philosophers and poets dip into German rather liberally.
And one gentle, practical hint. If the gender of nouns is troubling you, while you are learning, turn them into plurals when possible. I once forgot if Bier was a “das” or not, so I simply ordered more. Plurals make for a nice “die.”
Update: A treat for those who have enjoyed and commented upon this response.
Christian Otto Josef Wolfgang Morgenstern (6 May 1871 – 31 March 1914) provided a memorable send-up of German grammar in his poem Der Werwolf. A native German response, in some ways, to the original question. Tongue firmly in cheek. Rather like Twain and Ambrose Bierce in the U.S., nothing was safe from his pen. This piece made me laugh out loud; who said Germans have no sense of humor!
Der Werwolf
Ein Werwolf eines Nachts entwich
von Weib und Kind und sich begab
an eines Dorfschullehrers Grab
und bat ihn: »Bitte, beuge mich!«Der Dorfschulmeister stieg hinauf
auf seines Blechschilds Messingknauf
und sprach zum Wolf, der seine Pfoten
geduldig kreuzte vor dem Toten:»Der Werwolf«, sprach der gute Mann,
»des Weswolfs, Genitiv sodann,
dem Wemwolf, Dativ, wie mans nennt,
den Wenwolf, — damit hats ein End.«Dem Werwolf schmeichelten die Fälle,
er rollte seine Augenbälle.
»Indessen«, bat er, »füge doch
zur Einzahl auch die Mehrzahl noch!«Der Dorfschulmeister aber mußte
gestehn, dass er von ihr nichts wußte.
Zwar Wölfe gäbs in grosser Schar,
doch »Wer« gäbs nur im Singular.Der Wolf erhob sich tränenblind–
er hatte ja doch Weib und Kind!
Doch da er kein Gelehrter eben,
so schied er dankend und ergeben.
For the learners in the crowd, like me:
Usually considered untranslatable, Alexander Gross at least made an amusing effort:
The Werewolf
A Werewolf, troubled by his name,
Left wife and brood one night and came
To a hidden graveyard to enlist
The aid of a long-dead philologist.“Oh sage, wake up, please don’t berate me,”
He howled sadly, “Just conjugate me.”
The seer arose a bit unsteady
Yawned twice, wheezed once, and then was ready.“Well, ‘Werewolf’ is your plural past,
While ‘Waswolf’ is singularly cast:
There’s ‘Amwolf’ too, the present tense,
And ‘Iswolf,’ ‘Arewolf’ in this same sense.”“I know that–I’m no mental cripple–
The future form and participle
Are what I crave,” the beast replied.
The scholar paused–again he tried:“A ‘Will-be-wolf?’ It’s just too long:
‘Shall-be-wolf?’ ‘Has-been-wolf?’ Utterly wrong!
Such words are wounds beyond all suture–
I’m sorry, but you have no future.”The Werewolf knew better–his sons still slept
At home, and homewards now he crept,
Happy, humble, without apology
For such folly of philology.
Tschüss!
