“You always were a cunning linguist, James.” Miss Moneypenny in the Bond film, Tomorrow Never Dies
According to the dictionary (And I don’t see why they’d lie.) a linguist is a person who speaks several languages or studies linguistics. I’m not even close to being a linguist, unless you can count counting from one to ten in Spanish and German, much less a cunning one. However, today’s excerpt is at least a feeble attempt.
The problem I have with writing any foreign language is not looking like a testa strana to someone who actually speaks that dialect. Testa strana is Italian for dummkopf, which is German for cabeza dura, which is Spanish for dumbhead, which is me when I attempt to write anything in a foreign language. I suppose it all boils down to research. I’m so dead set in my ways of not asking for help that I won’t seek out an interpreter. That and the fact that I’m too cheap. I’ve always been taught, “there is no such thing as a free meal” no matter what accent it comes in. Anyway, that means I have to rely on my inconsistent translation app. I’m also too cheap to purchase the better user friendly versions of anything. The problem with my way is I’m getting a literal translation. I don’t know if it will read the way I need it to.
Since I don’t know what I’m doing I read other writers stories with foreign dialogue to get an idea of how to incorporate it convincingly into my own tale. What I learned was first – give the reader a clue as to the language the character is using (In my story it’s Catalan from an area in the northeast corner of Spain, bordering on the Mediterranean Sea.) and second – give a loose translation as part of the story telling process.
The computer I had that story saved on, took a major dump. Luckily I had printed a hard copy and retyped it on a new computer. When I came to the foreign dialogue I did a quick double check and lo and behold when I typed the Catalan line into the translator it read back as gibberish in English. It would have made more sense if I had typed it in pig Latin. At least you can’t offend a pig.
And then there’s the ever popular writing accents. If one can’t imitate, say a French accent, how can one possibly reproduce it on paper? Let’s see if I can give it a shot. “Eef one can’t eemitate, zay a French acczent, ow can one pozzibly reproduze eet on paper?” My spell checker just threw up all over my keyboard. Just a second while I clean it up. Yuch! The checker didn’t like it but it does kind of resemble a French accent. I just hope I haven’t destroyed the US – France relationship. I supposed I could just write it in English and instruct the reader to read it with a French accent. That will be a hoot at book club.
And don’t even get me started on the various dialects in the US. It’s mind boggling! You’ve got your New England, New York, Southern, Cajun, Texan drawl, California Valley Girl, and everything in-between. Experts who specialize in dialects can almost pinpoint what part of a state you come from by your accent. At the beginning of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain wrote, “In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary “Pike County” dialect; and the four modified varieties of the last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms or speech. I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.”
I think, for me, the easiest thing would be to have all of my characters sound like white Midwestern geriatrics. It’s certainly an accent I’ve got down pat.