You know how you hear a familiar phrase sometimes and, maybe because of the ambient lighting or whatever, it suddenly sounds odd? Well it happened again the other night when I was strolling along a Dublin street and eavesdropped on a woman telling a friend: “It’s a tapas restaurant, but it’s meant to be very good”.
Leaving aside the “but” – an apparent calumny on Spanish cuisine – it was the phrase “meant to be” that suddenly sounded funny.
Of course, as a native speaker of Hiberno-English, I knew what the woman was saying: that the food was reputed to be good. But in most other strains of English, “meant” would mean only “intended”, which was hardly the endorsement she had in mind.
In that sense, the food in almost every restaurant is meant to be good. It would be a very poor establishment that didn’t at least try. But it’s the gap between intention and execution that can result in tragic disappointment.
In restaurants or elsewhere, the divide between the two “meants” is sometimes gulf-like. In advertising the worst theatrical turkey ever, for example, an impresario could put the quotation “it’s meant to be brilliant” on the poster, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a lie.
I know some of the more curious Hiberno-English expressions arose simply because there was no direct translation of certain things from Irish. And converting the tapas restaurant’s reputation back into the first official language, I suppose a Gaelic speaker might begin by saying something like “tá sé in ainm is a bheith . . . ” (“it is in the name of being . . .”). But how this became “it’s meant to be” in English, I don’t know. Perhaps readers can educate me.
In the meantime, I’m reminded of a classic column Myles na gCopaleen wrote on a related term: “supposed”.
Verbal twin
On the face of it, “supposed” is a verbal twin of “meant”. Indeed the two words are often interchangeable, as they would have been in the sentence about the restaurant.
But “supposed” also has an ironic quality that, in Myles’s view, made it essential to the Irish psyche.
Noting that there was no obvious Gaelic equivalent he suggested facetiously that its utility might have been a factor in persuading the nation to speak English.
His examples of typical usage – only some of them fictional – included that of a man lighting a cigarette in a petrol depot and confiding in a visitor, “Of course I needn’t tell you there’s supposed to be no smoking here”.
Another was of a man in a pub knocking back a large whiskey, then pointing to his heart and saying of the drink, “As you know, I’m not supposed to touch this stuff”. Or then there was the publican himself, gingerly opening the door after hours to a customer who knew the secret knock and ushering the arrival in with the admonition, “We’re supposed to be closed you know.”
The negative version of the phrase, concerning things the speaker was ‘not supposed’ to do or say, was especially popular, Myles thought. But as he added: “In no such context does the term “not supposed” connote prohibition. Rather does it indicate the recognition of the existence of a silly taboo which no grown-up person can be expected to take seriously. It is the verbal genuflection of the worshipper who has come to lay violent hands on the image he thus venerates. It is the domestic password in the endemic conspiracy of petty lawlessness. All that I believe to be true, though possibly I’m not supposed to say it so bluntly.”
That column was from back in 1957, and insofar as it was true then, it probably still is. Apart from which, it also gives me an excuse to mention an impending deadline that Myles’s many admirers may be interested in, as brought to my attention by the International Flann O’Brien Society.
Their third international conference, a biennial affair, takes place this September in Prague.
But if you have an idea for a 20-minute presentation, or would like to be part of a panel, you need to submit a 250-word summary to viennacis.anglistik @univie.ac.at by March 1st.
The inaugural conference was in Vienna. The second was in Rome. So the latest venue is in keeping with the society’s policy of forcing O’Brien enthusiasts to visit beautiful cities on the continent under the guise of study. I have an idea for a paper myself, in fact, if only as an excuse to go.
In the case of both, the idea and Prague, but in different senses, it’s meant to be great. @FrankmcnallyIT