It's not something that comes up often, but having just finished a project for a European client, I had occasion to see a price card listed in the EU currency. On this card, I noticed "Euro" being used as a plural noun, where I would have assumed the word was "Euros."
A quick Internet search for guidance says that the English language plural of Euro is, indeed, Euros, but that the accepted European usage is Euro in both the singular and plural. Since Euro(s) are supposed to be the financial version of Esperanto -- at least, for EU purposes -- I'd like to see some consensus on this issue.
To whom to we appeal for a final ruling on this? It feels weird to say "Euro," plural, but we use plenty of other collective nouns, and it's also a nice example of synecdoche in everyday language (i.e., using a word for a portion to mean the whole, or vice versa).
What I Read This Week
Megan Abbott, BURY ME DEEP. I've been working full out on too many projects this week, sleep-deprived and zonked on a possibly toxic combination of cold medicine to keep me going. Megan, take this for the compliment it is when I say this was the perfect book for the week that was. It's the dark, dreamy, impressionistic story of Jazz Age grass-widow Marion Seeley, who winds up alone and working in an Arizona sanitarium, and falls into some bad company. One bad move leads to another, as Marion's world turns into a spiral of doom. All of Megan Abbott's characters live in a fragile world bound by brittle rules, and once those rules break, chaos inevitably follows. I'm going to need to read this again once I'm off the decongestants, but in the meantime it's haunted my dreams this week.
Jean Strouse, ALICE JAMES: The Life of the Brilliant but Neglected Sister of William and Henry James. A fascinating biography that illuminates several issues I'm looking at for a project of my own. Among the upper class of 19th century American society, women were educated far beyond their opportunities or expectations, for no apparent purpose other than to be the perfect audience for the men in their lives. Alice James was a little different, in that her education was haphazard, informal, and largely self-driven; but the end was the same, as she found no outlet for her brilliance but her journals and her lively communications with her friends and her brothers. She died unknown and much too young: "not socially useful, particularly virtuous, or even happy." But attention must be paid, and Strouse gives Alice her long-overdue moment in the sun.