1: rabble, riffraff
2: proletarian
…
The Origin of Canaille
For a creature said to be man's best friend, the dog doesn't get a whole lot of respect in the English language. Something that has "gone to the dogs," for example, has gone to ruin, and the Britishism dog's breakfast means a confused mess of something. The word canaille, which debuted in English in the 17th century, shows that we have no qualms about associating dogs with the lower levels of human society; it derives via French from Italian canaglia, and ultimately from canis, the Latin word for "dog." Canis, of course, is also the source of canine, which as a noun refers to a dog (as well as a conical pointed tooth), and as an adjective means "of or relating to dogs or to the family to which they belong."
[Yuri] Herrera’s own daring with the written word is as creative as it is precise. On his computer, a file called “palabras” lists dozens of words and phrases that, at one time or another, he wanted to include (or exclude) in “Season of the Swamp.” One of the most important, he said, was canaille — a word used in 19th-century New Orleans to describe the outcast and misfit masses of which Juárez, in exile, finds himself a part.
Whether in Mexico, the United States or elsewhere, the canaille are those who appear to most capture Herrera’s interest and evoke his sense of solidarity. As a character in his novel says, “Could there be any place more interesting than the one where all the chaff gets tossed?” No wonder Herrera has made New Orleans his home.
“It makes me think of the limits of domesticity and what the powers that be decide is the way you have to live,” Herrera said. “It’s difficult to go some other places, once you have lived here.”
| Benjamin Russell, The Mexican Novelist Who Found Himself in New Orleans