THERE are many reasons to tempt a scientist to work abroad. My own was simple: my contract at the John Innes Centre in Norwich was drawing to a close, and I had been invited to work on a one-year contract at an agricultural research laboratory at Clermont-Ferrand, in central France. The job was to develop computer software for a genetic mapping laboratory. But within a few days, once people had discovered that an Englishman had arrived, I found I had a second job, too.
Perhaps the most profound lesson I learnt in France was just how fortunate it is for a scientist to have English as his or her native language. For then you don鈥檛 need to learn another language to publish internationally, while to do this in France you must write in English. So what does a French researcher do? Normally, he or she sends the manuscript to an editor, who sends it to two referees, who send the instruction back to the author to change it from 鈥淔renglish鈥� into English. If there happens to be a tame English scientist down the corridor, they get the job of reading the Frenglish manuscript and turning it into English.
It is surprising just how unpredictable a French scientist鈥檚 grasp of English can be. Some who have never spoken a word of English can write it virtually faultlessly. Others, whose spoken English is reasonably fluent, are so bad at writing it that it would have been easier for the Englisher to translate it than to correct it.
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It was a referee who first introduced me to the concept of Frenglish. I had corrected a manuscript into what I thought was perfectly good English, and so I was rather dismayed when the manuscript was returned with the referee鈥檚 report that the paper 鈥渙ught to be translated from Frenglish into English鈥�. I solved the mystery when I checked the returned manuscript, and found that the author had taken up only a few of my suggestions. After that, I didn鈥檛 put quite the same effort into rewriting sentences that seemed not quite right, and limited myself to correcting meanings.
One paper that sticks in my mind had been written in virtually perfect English, but the author had used the phrase: 鈥淭he plants were pulverised鈥�. The French word pulv茅riser means 鈥渢o spray鈥� and is one of the faux amis they warn you about when you learn French: words which sound similar in the two languages but which have different meanings. Another which often causes problems is actuellement, which means 鈥渘ow鈥� but is often translated as 鈥渁ctually鈥�. So the Frenglish sentence 鈥淲heat is actually the first crop in the world鈥� means 鈥淎t the present time, wheat is the world鈥檚 principal crop鈥�.
One of my colleagues came to me in a state of shock one day, with a translated extract from the institute鈥檚 annual report, supposedly done by a 鈥減rofessional鈥� translator. It read as if it had almost been turned word for word from French into English, and I joked that it had probably been done by machine. The French original had included the phrase 茅tablissements de selection, which means plant breeding companies. This had been translated as 鈥渟elected establishments鈥�.
Not long after I started the job it became clear that many French scientists are, not unnaturally, a little reluctant to speak English. My team leader had taken me to a meeting in Paris, and on the way had assured me that the proceedings would, for my benefit, be in English. Right from the start, everybody spoke French. I gave my short presentation in English, and my audience discussed it 鈥� in French. So I gave up, and concentrated on improving my French.
After six months I was becoming quite proud of my progress, only to be brought down to earth by Monsieur le chef when he said: 鈥淚 am surprised your French is not better after all this time. When I went to the US before I was a student I knew no English. After six months I was fluent.鈥�
Some of us just don鈥檛 seem to have this gift for languages. I had been trying in my own way to learn French from the moment I knew I was going to a job in France. My way of learning was to think to myself in French, write down words that I did not know, and look them up later. I bought two enormous dictionaries, one to keep at work and the other for home.
Just before I left France, our institute hosted an international conference. The abstracts came in from all over Europe, and were shared out for editing by various members of staff. I was not asked to help, presumably because my colleagues felt that I should be left to concentrate on finishing my proper work. I was amused to see them earnestly discussing points of English grammar among themselves, and ooh la la-ing about the appalling standard of East European English.
What, I once inquired, did they do before I arrived? Ah, we asked Madame Truc to read our manuscripts. Mme Truc was born in England but had lived in France for 20 years. Because of this, she was more tolerant of Frenglish than I was, so I was preferred. But I suppose now she has her second job back, and will keep it until some other unsuspecting anglais comes along. After all, the institute has many visitors from all parts of the world, or 鈥渇rom the 4 corners of a hexagon鈥� as they say in that part of France.
If you get an opportunity to work abroad, I recommend that you take it. It is a horizon-broadening experience. But before you go, do a language course if you can, or at least buy yourself a dictionary. I cannot speak for other nations, but I found French people 鈥� even the officials 鈥� universally helpful and courteous as I struggled with their language. Listen carefully to what the natives say, how they say it and what they emphasise. When you return to Britain, you will be amazed at just how much of the language you have absorbed, even if it did not seem that way while you were away.