the word’s worth: Hometown favorites

By Michele A. Berdy

Published: August 15, 2012 (Issue # 1722)

Ìîñêâè÷: Muscovite

The other day I was talking to an acquaintance that had moved to Moscow from Voronezh. I wanted to find out where he was born. My question started out fine: Âû êîðåííîé— (Are you a native —).

But then I realized I didn’t know the proper word for a resident of Voronezh. So I used my tried and true method to conceal my ignorance. I paused and fiddled with my shoe, giving him the opportunity to fill in the word for me. It worked. Êîðåííîé âîðîíåæåö? Äà. (A native of Voronezh? Yes.) À âàøà æåíà? (And your wife?) Òîæå èç Âîðîíåæà (She’s also from Voronezh).

I gave up my pretense of linguistic competence. Îíà òîãäà … âîðîíåæêà? (She’s a Voronezhka?) I tried. He laughed. Íåò òàêîãî ñëîâà. Âîîáùå íåò ñëîâà äëÿ æåíùèíû-æèòåëüíèöû Âîðîíåæà (That’s not a word. In fact, there isn’t a word for a woman resident of Voronezh).

And then we had one of those great Russian little word exchanges. I asked, À êàê æå òàê? (How could that be?) He replied, Âîò òàê (There you have it).

Since fiddling with my shoe isn’t always possible, I decided to find the rules for formation of nouns from city names in Russian. This type of noun has the rather obscure designation ýòíîõðîíèì or ýòíèêîí (the equally obscure ethnicon).

My research came up with a mixed bag. There are rules, but they have lots of exceptions. Here convention and tradition rule. And to follow what rules there are, it helps to have at least a nodding acquaintance with history. For example, some of the oldest cities use the oldest suffix to denote residency, the letter “÷.” So a resident of Ìîñêâà (Moscow) is ìîñêâè÷ (Muscovite), and a native of Ïñêîâ (Pskov) is traditionally ïñêîâè÷ (Pskovian).

Except, of course, that a resident of the super-ancient city of Êèåâ (Kiev) is êèåâëÿíèí (Kievan), while a native of Òîìñê (Tomsk), founded about 700 years later, is òîìè÷, which is a … Tomskian? Tomskan? Tomsker? Tomskite? Ethnicons are tricky.

Many cities that end in -ñê or -òñê (except for Òîìñê, of course) use the suffixes -àí, -÷àí, or -ÿí, like Minsk: Ìèíñê — ìèí÷àíèí, Õàáàðîâñê — õàáàðîâ÷àíèí, Ñìîëåíñê — ñìîëÿíèí, Èðêóòñê — èðêóòÿíèí and Êóðñê — êóðÿíèí. You will note that various letters of the city name disappear or stay, apparently as they wish.

Some cities that end in -îâî, -èíî or -åíî use the suffix letter “ö,” like Ivanovo: Èâàíîâî — èâàíîâåö. But others, like Kemerovo, don’t: Êåìåðîâî — êåìåðîâ÷àíèí.

Some cities use the jazzy -ÿê ending to denote their citizens, like Perm: Ïåðìü — ïåðìÿê; or Tula: Òóëà — òóëÿê. A Siberian is traditionally ñèáèðÿê, although my 18-year-old neighbor calls him ñèáèðÿíèí.

But a native of Novosibirsk (Íîâîñèáèðñê) is not íîâîñèáèðÿíèí, as per rule No. 2, or íîâîñèáèðÿê, as per rule No. 4, but íîâîñèáèðåö.

Lucky is a native of Tver (Òâåðü), who can call himself òâåðÿê, òâåðè÷àíèí, òâåðèòÿíèí, or even òâåðè÷, depending on mood and inclination.

Unlucky is a resident of Òîðæîê, who calls himself íîâîòîð because the town was originally called Íîâûé Òîðã. Similarly, a native of Arkhangelsk (Àðõàíãåëüñê) is called àðõàíãåëîãîðîäåö, because the city was once Àðõàíãåëüñêèé ãîðîäîê.

There are other strange and wonderful ethnicons. A native son of Ufa (Óôà) is óôèìåö; residents of Odessa (Îäåññà) are îäåññèòû.

But why are there female residents all over the place — ñèáèðÿ÷êà, óôèìêà, èâàíîâêà, ìîñêâè÷êà and even íîâîòîðêà — but no words to describe them in Âîðîíåæ?

Michele A. Berdy, a Moscow-based translator and interpreter, is author of “The Russian Word’s Worth” (Glas), a collection of her columns.