The Perils of Multi-lingual Fiction

There are people out there who are fluent in many languages. Such people might write a book using several languages. This post isn't for them*. It's for multi-lingual wannabes. These people speak one language (presumably English, if they're reading this post). But they're not going to let something as small as not speaking a language get in their way.

Some seem to think it'll make them look smart. Others simply fall in love with the concept, without thinking of the dangers. If you think you can translate well enough with a language dictionary or translator program, think again.


Problem One: Translates the Squid

The lines below are courtesy of engrishfunny.com. The site is dedicated to examples of poor English translations. Read them carefully and consider what they mean:

• May happity and happy hocks be with you forever.
• The moustache is tiny squid roasts.
• If you are stolen, call the police at once.
• Please don't flash the octopus.
• Cambodian association helping the miserable corpses.
• Please don't cross any Railings lest suddenness happens!
• Try this traditional dessert to soothe potato.

Those are some of the innocently funny mistakes. Ones which use swear words and innuendo also abound. This is particularly unfortunate on children's toy packaging. This is what happens when you rely on language translation tools. It's very easy to misunderstand and use the wrong word.


Problem Two: Morosophy

The word means the right thing, but it doesn't say it in a normal way. Such as funipendulous in an MP3 player manual. It's a real English word and it means what the translator thought it meant. It's just not one you hear in everyday conversation. You certainly wouldn't use an unusual word like that in a user manual. They're not supposed to get people reaching for the dictionary.


Problem Three: Wot Ho!

Language drops in and out of fashion. You need to know the difference between timeless language and language restricted to a certain era.

My brother had an old French phrase book. He tried to use this to talk to people and got some odd responses. Even with my limited French, I realised it was the French equivalent of saying "Wot Ho chaps" rather than "Hi everyone". It sounded like a French speaker from 50 years ago had built a time machine and travelled to the present day.

On the other hand, if you're writing about a time traveller, you might want to use old-fashioned language on purpose. To do that, you need to know what it is.


Conclusions

Now imagine what your translations look like to native speakers of that language. They might even start a page to laugh at your translations, because they're just that funny. Though it is publicity, it's not the best kind.

The moral of this tale is about knowing your limits. Unless you're fluent in a language**, you're going to need help. A few lessons in the language is a good start, but not enough. A fluent speaker*** looking over the work would be the best thing. For the sake of the happity of your octopus, make sure you get it right****.

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* There are obviously issues surrounding good multi-lingual fiction. But that'd be a separate pondering. This ramble is all about the bad stuff.

** I've come across some weird ideas about what fluent means. Fluent does not mean you know how to order a ham sandwich and ask for the price. You'll need to know a bit more than that (unless the book revolves around ordering ham sandwiches).

*** Native speakers are great. Someone who could hold down a conversation with a native speaker of the language, without everyone pointing and laughing, is also useful.

**** And watch out for suddenness.