5 reasons translated books are rubbish…
1. Idioms: I know this because I (briefly) studied languages. Phrases have close-but-no-cigar off-the-shelf approximations in English that will nearly suffice but are never pleasing. Listen out for “thin end of the wedge”, “blessing in disguise”, “drive up the wall”, “stick out like a sore thumb” and other “no-brainers” that save time and avoid a literary cul-de-sac.
2. Swearing: The swearing is never right. Swearing is colloquial, from the gut, in the moment and rarely makes rational sense. Translated diatribes never capture the venom and ends up sounding like the Wonga grandmas trying to rap. Also, they run out of steam and into a wall of idioms (see 1 above). “You f****** b****. You really rub me up the wrong way.”
3. Machine translation: Sentences read akin to a Chinese murmur, to the tongue and back many times too often.
4. Dialogue: No-one speaks translation. They clash, demur, cough, splutter and generally don’t sound like their curious English-speaking puppets. “But how did you come to forget that journalists actually have to back up their assertions?” Run that by me again?
5. Tone. Everything’s just wrong, like a cracked bell or an off-key sonata. It’s like listening to your holiday tour guide with an ear full of swimming pool water: “After putting down the telephone the eighty-two-year-old birthday boy sat for a long time looking at the pretty but meaningless flower whose name he did not yet know.” Birthday boy? Really?
Elvis has departed this location.
