Àíãë. Some Basic Hints for Learning Russian

Surfing Youtube, I was surprised to discover how many folks in this world are interested in learning Russian. Not only was I surprised, but also pleased and, moreover, flattered. Well, it wasn’t me who spawned this beautiful language, but I’ve been using it for quite a long time, almost from my birth (I used to speak Babian in the first ten months, though) and I love it. And I think it will be really cool if more English-speakers learn Russian, the more the better, it will greatly enhance understanding each other in the struggle for peace on this planet, for we can hardly succeed in the conquest of China without understanding each other.

But what is really sad, many people are somewhat discouraged at the very beginning, believing Russian to be too tough a language, too hard to learn it and keep your mind sane. They, like, point at Dostoyevsky and say: “Look at this guy! He’d learnt Russian pretty well, he must have been real good at it… and he obviously was bat-shit crazy. What if any connection exists?”
No way! And I can prove it. Look, Salvador Dali also was bat-shit crazy, and so was Sid Vicious, and they didn’t know a word in Russian.  So, the problem is not the language, the problem is… just the problem, and you may call it “a noble genius madness” instead of “bat-shit crazyness”, if you like.

But speaking of Russian language, I’d daresay its difficulty is greatly exaggerated among English-speaking folks. Sometimes it happens because there is nobody around to explain how plain and comfortable Russian grammar and phonetics really are. Well, I’ll be the guy. And if you are not interested in learning Russian and don’t want to know anything about it – you are by no means forced to read this article.

So, the Russian grammar. Terrible as Ivan the Terrible, and immense as Kate the Great.  Well, yeah, we do have grammatical genders. British (and descending) plutocrats usually try do conceal the similar fact of their own language, just to lure gullible dupes into learning English with this seeming simplicity, and then to say: “We still have no genders, but ship is she and shark is he”. But Russians, straightforward as they are, never denied that each noun in Russian belongs to a certain gender (like each person on Earth belongs to a certain sex, with nuns and monks being neutral).

What’s good news, these genders are pretty easy to tell by the word endings in the nominative case. If you see “a” at the end of a word – it’s feminine (exceptions exist, but just a few of them).  If you see “o” or “e” – it’s neutral. And if you see a consonant, hard as… you now what – it’s masculine. No such mess as in French, where “opinion” is feminine, but “fanion” is masculine, and “ton” can be either masculine or feminine, depending on the meaning, and the only froggee’s luck is in not having the neutral gender to make things even worse.

If you are puzzled with what the hell “the nominative case” is, I’d say it’s the only case nouns in English can be packed in (not counting the possessive, ’s-case). No other cases for nouns and adjectives exist in English. However, you do have cases for personal pronouns (in case you’ve never noticed). So, when an English speaker says “I’ll never get this cases thing, it’s so weird and unfamiliar, it’s beyond my understanding”, he (or she) should ask him(or her)self: “Why do I say “he”, but “to him”?” It’s cases, man, and you are well acquainted with them as they are used for pronouns.

 But here in Russia we love cases somewhat more, so we use them for nouns and adjectives as well and have as many as six of them. Why do we love them so much and what for do we have them?

Well, you see, there is no such strict word order in Russian as in English. In English you say “A girl is eating a lemon” – and it’s ok (if not thinking about the girl’s face). But if you say “A lemon is eating a girl” – it can turn out to be something real nasty, it depends from the ceiling of the girl’s age like that Edgar Poe's pendulum. In Russian, however, you are free to put them words wherever you wish, without the risk of being charged with a harassment of any kind. You do it just to emphasize what you want to, and the sense in  general remains the same (actually, you do it in English too, like “I forgive thee not”, but much rarer).

To appreciate this feature, the freedom of word order, just think of Russia as a planet Dagobah, where everyone is like Master Yoda (I don’t mean the appearance… Putin is unique, really). But, speaking in Yoda’s manner, we still have to explicate somehow the subordination of words to avoid a complete anarchy. And that’s why we use cases for nouns and adjectives.

You may ask, why Yoda used no such things and his speech was still comprehensible and clear, though weird? Well, the point is – he was a Great Jedi Teacher who spent centuries making his speech comprehensible and clear. But ordinary people speaking this way usually need cases, and not only in Russian.

In fact, Russian grammar has very much in common with Latin, though it’s even less challenging. Really, if you are good at Latin, you’ll have no problems at all with Russian grammar. It would be an easy and joyful ride for you, as these case patterns in Russian are much more uniformed and simplified than in Latin. So, maybe it’s a good idea to learn Latin first, before studying Russian. After all, not so long ago Latin was mandatory for any educated person (and nowadays being a Latin-Russian speaker would make you twice as cool a weirdo in the eyes of your friends than being just a Russian speaker).

Well, what I have to accept, is that Russian genders and cases for nouns and adjectives may really be somewhat challenging for those who never dealt with such things (though they are not nearly as scaring as they look like at the first glance, for there are quite simple and standard rules defining the usage).

But what I cannot understand, is when some English speakers blame Russian VERBS for being too complicated with their forms and conjugations. I really cannot get it. Russian verbs are difficult? Says WHO? The guys who somehow have managed to remember that “to drink” makes “drank” but “to think” makes “thought” yet “to wink” makes “winked” (which latter belongs to this puny and suppressed verbal minority being called “regular verbs” for some dark and sarcastic reason)?

You must be kidding, guys! We have only two conjugations, and all Russian verbs are strictly, “military-esque” regular (except for those six rebels which actually are not). And though you might experience some difficulties with participle forms, it’s mostly because of their dreadful, cumbersome look and inconvenient pronunciation with all these “÷/ø/ù”. But grammatically speaking, they are formed according to some very simple and clear rules which are just a little more sophisticated than this English “-ing for all”.

Once again, the good news is – we have no such tension with tenses. That is, we don’t have THAT many of them, as in English. What we have, is just verbal “times” – past, present and future (to say more, nearly a half of Russian verbs don’t actually have the present time). And if you think genders and cases are a pain in the ass, just try to imagine what an ominous twist of mind a Russian guy should suffer to perceive the sacred mystery of the future perfect continuous. “I will have been working for ten hours by 11 pm”? Huh! In your dreams! No, he won’t. No dice, bro. Cuz da liquor store gonna be closed at 9!

Now, a few words about Russian phonetics. Many folks also find it scary and even petrifying. Well, they have never heard Mongolian. THAT’s scary (like the smile of Genghis Khan singing a lullaby for you). And in Russian… well, we really have some sounds which are unfamiliar to English-speakers and one absolutely unique sound (as English “th” is unique among European languages). Our exclusive national pride  is - “ù”, usually transcribed as “shch” like being  some bastard of “ch” and “sh”. The problem is, you cannot say “sh” and “ch” at the same time, and when you’re saying sh-ch – you’re saying sh-ch, not “ù”.

Well, the sound “ù” is so great and awesome that it’s completely impossible to explain its mighty grandeur in just one article. In fact, hundreds of volumes were dedicated to the description of how exactly you should configure your tongue, lips, jaws, skull, guts, mind… soul… astral body… to pronounce it. But all this is just like learning the amorous art from the Kama-Sutra. Many tried, little succeeded (in anything but getting some exotic traumas). You’d better just listen to Russian speech and try to imitate it (recording your voice would be very helpful, as it always is in any language studies). Maybe, once you’ll even be able to say “îÙóÙàþÙèåñÿ” without needing a doctor to unwind your tongue with pliers. 

But if not? Well, there are many people who fail to pronounce this or that sound. Not a big deal. Some say “sh” instead of “s”, some say “gh” instead of “g” (they are called Ukrainians). And that’s not to mention those millions who are permanently “underroaring” on “r”. And we have a  RigoRous-vigoRous “r” in Russian. It’s supposed to be not so gothic as in German and not so elvish as in Scottish, but somewhat halfway (more like in Spanish). If you still are following my idea of what an ideal Russian “r” should sound like, I’d say no one yet has reached Really Right Relic Russian “R”. And while it’s not too hard to get it almost(!) right, you’ll never catch up with the ideal. And you know, what? If you happen to find yourself in a somewhat more respectable kind of place than a junior-high school, nobody will make fun of you for your mispronunciation of some sounds (not in your presence, I mean).

But what you really should struggle against while speaking Russian – these “Y” patterns instead of just soft vowels. Like, “Priv’Yet, ya l’Yubl’Yu vs’Yo zel’Yonoye” (Instead of “Ïðèâåò, ÿ ëþáëþ âñ¸ çåë¸íîå”). Aren’t they annoying, these obviously excessive “Y’s”? Yes, they are. I mean, it’s always a bit annoying to see people torturing themselves without any necessity. But that’s exactly the way most Americans speak Russian (those who try to, I mean).  Back then in the Cold War, thousands of the most experienced and valuable CIA agents f-d up solely because of this. And not that I’m eager to give a hand to the CIA against my country (the Cold War is over, for good, I believe, and so much for the frigging politics), but I really want to make a point of this Y-issue and shoot it point-blank.

Look, it seems to me rather strange that you guys are so stubborn with this “l’Yubl’Yu” thing. It would be pretty excusable, had you not the right sounds in your language. But you DO have them and you’re well trained in pronouncing them. So, let me try to explain, what sounds and in which situations should be there in Russian.

The vowels we now are speaking  about, are “e”, “ÿ”, “þ”, “¸”. If they stand alone or follow another vowel, they are really pronounced as “ye”, “ya”, “yu”, “yo”. So, it’s alright to read “ÿ” (“I”) as “ya”. BUT! When these vowels follow a consonant, they soften it and don’t produce anything like “y”. So, “ëþ” in “ëþáëþ” (“(I) love”) sounds pretty much like “glue”, “clue” and, especially “blue”. You don’t pronounce “blue” as “blYu” or “bloo”, do you? You pronounce it rather softly (or are expected to). So, try to say “blue-blue” (well, falling in love can be a sad-sad thing, and all the blues are about it). Now, delete the first “b”. Just take it and cast away. Try again with “lue-blue”. Congratulations! That’s how “ëþáëþ” is pronounced in Russian.

The same thing with “블 (it’s like in “learn”) and “ëÿ” (it’s like “la” in French). Not only “l”, of course, but all other consonants, followed by the said vowels, are softened alike without producing any Y pattern. And maybe you really have to work out a little over “a consonant + ÿ”, and the soft “a” respectively, but what I refuse to understand is – how comes you have problems with “a consonant + e” like in “ïðèâåò” (“hi!”)? This sound must be more than familiar to English speakers.

So, how do you say “vet”, be it an animal doctor or an experienced soldier? Not like “viet”, I suppose? And now imagine how this person would be called before becoming a vet. Well, there is no such word in dictionaries, but it would be reasonable to call him “pre-vet”. And how would you pronounce it? I believe it would be like “pri-vet”, with the second syllable stressed. Make the “r” sound “roaring” – and you’ll get “ïðèâåò” in Russian. Just that simple.

And the most pleasant thing with Russian phonetics is that if you have mastered them sounds, you’ll always be able to read any Russian text more or less correctly, even if there is plenty of unknown words in it. Only your stresses in the words may be wrong, but sounds will be correct. That’s because of the original conception of writing and reading in Russian which is that letters should be used to convey certain sounds in the most appropriate and reasonable manner. I know, it’s quite different from the basic conception of English writing and reading which says that letters should convey any sounds but certain and in any way but appropriate and reasonable. I find the English spelling paradigm really charming (and highly spy-proof), while Russian one is somewhat dull, being so predictable, but let me assure, in Russian you’ll never find such situations as: “tough” sounds like “love” (but not “cove”), while “though” sounds like “row”, while “how” sounds like “proud”, while “route” sounds like “root”, while “root” sounds like “through”. No, in Russian – what you see is what you get, just that trivial.

However, I’ve watched some furious discussions on that subject that sometimes Russian letters also may sound in different ways depending on their position. Like, “you shouldn’t say “ñïàñèáî” as “spasEEbo” cuz the right way of thanking in Russian is  “spasEEbaa”. And then they start pondering over how insidious and delusive these Russian “o’s” are when unstressed.

Oh, boy. Give me a break. That’s especially amusing when written by guys who are from a country where vowels tend to shift as soon as they get beyond the hedge of their native farm, be it in the US or UK. 

Well, what’s truth, dialect differences are not so great in Russian as in English. Believe me, it’s harder to find some fur trapper with a totally incomprehensible Russian somewhere in Siberia taiga, than to find someone with just minimally comprehensible English in the East End of London (I mean, comprehensible for anyone but his neighbor fellas) .

 In general, all Russians speak one and the same language. But – there’s no capital punishment in Russia for articulating unstressed “o’s” as distinct “o’s”. And many people do so. Especially, in Northern and Upper-Volga regions, like in Vologda and Nizhniy Novgorod. Besides, it is considered to be the right, traditional manner for orthodox priests to speak “strictly as written”.

But where unstressed “o’s” are really pronounced as “a”, is in Southern regions and, especially, in the Moscow dialect. However,  it’s not believed to be the best and the most correct Russian. The Petersburgian is, for St. Petersburg is deemed to be the cultural capital of Russia. But we have some problem here, for, being refined and educated as they are, Peter folks never speak Russian at all. Only French (and you may check this out with “War and Peace”, if my word is not enough for you).  So, nobody in Russia actually knows for sure how exactly you should say: “spaseebo” or “spaseeba”. Too bad. What’s better, nobody gives a shit. Being “thanked” or “thaanked” of “thunked” – what’s the difference? It’s polite, it’s nice, anyway.

Now, speaking of politeness, good manners and basic tips for communicating.
You know, I’ve seen plenty of those “the very-very beginner’s” guides with the “very-very useful must-know” phrases.  And I understand that the creators of this stuff were inspired with the best wishes ever, but what I don’t quite understand: how exactly these basic phrases can be useful?

I’m just trying to imagine a situation. So, you’re an English-speaker stuck in the middle of nowhere, like, say, the Red Square in front of the Moscow Kremlin. And you are just one, alone and lost. The blizzard is furious as if God decided to search angels’ pillows for some illegal stuff, stray hungry bears wandering around, and you see nobody you know. Well, maybe, you’re somehow familiar with Lenin, who’s near, but he is not so eager to help you because he hated such imperialistic fat-cats like you throughout all his life (and through all the decades he has been living on after his death).

And what you have – is about a dozen of these “most useful” Russian phrases. The first of them, of course, is – “Ãîâîðèòå ëè âû ïî-àíãëèéñêè?” Which means “Do you speak English?”
In other details the content may differ, but this one is mandatory and ultimate number one in all these “tourist guides”. And I love it, I really do. It must be pretty logical, to ask locals if they speak English - not in English, but in their native language. Because if they do speak English – they inevitably will try to disguise such their ability when you’re asking them in English. But if they don’t speak English, you really have to ask them in Russian to make it sure. So, you go: “Âû ãîâîðèòå ïî-àíãëèéñêè”. And the answer is: “Íåò, ÿ íå ãîâîðþ ïî-àíãëèéñêè” (“No, I don’t speak English”). Of course, you need to learn this response as well, for there surely cannot be any other way to find out that your vis-a-vis doesn’t speak English.
 
And when you’ve fired away the best of your Russian shells to discover that the person you were aiming at is as helpless in English as you’re in his language, - what’s next? Saying “spaseebo”? Or “sputnik”? Or “gulag”?

Well, the truth is, any person above 5 in the Russian Federation (and in India, and in Guatemala, and in Erathia, and in Mordor, and even in Kazakhstan) hearing the word “English” - perfectly understands that you need someone who speaks English. And if he knows such a linguist guru in the vicinity, you are likely to be welcome. But if there are no English speakers for miles around (which is hardly believable for any city in the world, except London), your ten or dozen Russian phrases would be of no good anyway. You’ll end up playing charades in an attempt to explain what you want.   

Quite a different thing is, when you just want to please your host by saying something in his or her native language. That’s cute, that’s touching. That must cause a smile, and maybe a broad one. But not only because it’s so sweet, you speaking Russian, but because it’s funny. You bet, it is. And it’s the best way of learning the language, if you mean it, through communicating with  some friendly natives, whatever funny you might sound to them.

But I wouldn’t recommend anyone to flaunt your Russian in front of strangers in the streets. Nor would I recommend to rely on those booklets or video guides with a dozen or two “must-know” phrases. They are never really helpful (hands and facial muscles are of a greater use), but sometimes they can be misleading.

Just one example. Let’s assume, you are sitting in a theatre (I mean a theatre theatre, not a cinema theater), and everything is awesome, but the circumstances are getting such, that you start feeling an increasing curiosity about the exact 10-20 of the nearest head to hit safely and privately. So, you look into your magic guide and see the phrase: “Excuse me, where is the bathroom?”

And you ask the theatre lady in the lobby: “Èçâèíèòå, ãäå çäåñü âàííàÿ êîìíàòà?”
Do you have any idea of what you’ve really asked? That’s it: “Where can I take a bath in this theatre?” 

I think, you guess how it happened. There are two kinds or “bathrooms” in English, and that kind, which is not actually a bathroom with a tub and all, is prevailing now, but not in Russian dictionaries, where the original meaning of “bathroom” is still indicated as the primary one. So, the guys who make these collections of most useful phrases just take the first meaning and insert it not even thinking that it would be quite a strange question for a tourist in any situation, “Where is my tub I can hop into?” Whatever vast a room in a hotel might be, it’s hardly possible that a guest would fail to find his tub without someone’s else aid.

Well, odds are, that theatre lady will understand what you really are looking for. But odds are, she’ll have to struggle to suppress her laughter.  And odds are, if it is the Bolshoy Theatre, lobby ladies there speak some basic English.

Now, a few words about the informal and polite  versions of “you” in Russian. If you already have some experience with the language, you must have heard that these Russian “âû” and “òû” are pretty much like “vouz” and “tu” in French. It’s right. But one thing: neither French, nor English  have the sound “û”. It’s like “ee”, but accompanied with a severe antritis, when your nostrils seem to be forever sealed with concrete. So, you have two ways of mastering the sound “û”. The first is to consume 10-15 pounds of ice-cream sitting naked in the snow (that’s gonna greatly improve your health if you survive). The second is to pull your tongue back a little (you don’t need to swallow it, just exclude touching your teeth with your tongue) and try to say “ee”. You’ll know when you “catch” the sound.

And anoother thing with these “òû”-“âû” pronouns is that they need different endings for verbs used with them (same in French). Although the grammar rules for this are no  Da Vinci Code, it may be somewhat confusing at first. That’s why I’d recommend to use only the plural (and polite) form, “âû”, in all situations before you get used enough. You see, if you say “âû” to a friend or a minor, he won’t hurt you too bad (being a friend or a minor). But if you say “òû” to someone who is not supposed to be treated like this, you’ll have to commit a seppukku in the Russian way. And that means to blow up you belly with vodka from inside. No kidding. Just take it from me: once you say “òû” to some serious guy you are lost.

First he will hug you nearly unconscious and then he will say that as soon as you and him “ïåðåøëè íà «òû»”, you have no choice but to drink your brotherhood. And it won’t take a shot. And it won’t take a bottle. It will take as much of alcohol as you have blood to dissolve it. So, never say “òû” to serious guys unless you want to clean your veins with ethanol.

Actually, you don’t have to say “zdra(v)stvuite”(“çäðàâñòâóéòå”) to them, either. I know, this monstrous conglomeration of consonants is likely to be the first bugbear on the way of those who enter the field of the Russian language.  Luckily, it’s one of the scariest, too (the others are less frightening).  And you have no need in articulating it as it goes. A light version, “zdrAste”, will do. Dictionaries still consider it to be informal, but it’s widely used even at the most pompous  occasions. And what is for sure, nobody will perform an investigation on what exactly you have murmured as a greeting word.

The second bugbear at this obstacle course of politeness must be the word “pozhAluista” (“ïîæàëóéñòà”). It has two distinct analogues in English. The first is “please”, when you’re asking for something. And the second is “you’re welcome” as your change for somebody’s “thanks” banknote. I think, it’s rather practical in Russian to have one word for both cases. I’d go even further and replace all these stock expressions of politeness with just one word,  and let it be something like “ehh”. Really, why playing Windsor Castle every time you need an eraser or what?

But as long as my language reform is still a draft, you’ll have to deal with this “pozhaluista”  thing. And to make it less painful, I’d say it’s rarely articulated as is. Most of the times it sounds more like “pozhalusta”. But if you still hate this “zh” sound, lucky you are not to go in for learning Polish.

That’s all for now, I think. If anything in this article seemed to be useful for you– it was my pleasure. And you are welcome to ask questions about learning Russian, I’ll try to answer asap.