Short version – if it throws the reader out of the story, it is probably too much.
Long version: I tend to have bits of foreign languages in stories when it is appropriate. Sometimes these are technical terms for which no English version applies, or colloquialisms that fit the characters and scene. They might be titles, like Asszony and Uram, misses and mister, in the language that would be used by the characters and that give a bit of flavor. Or they are in a made-up language, again to give flavor and shades of meaning that might not otherwise come through in a short version, such as suflit fica in the Familiars books. You can also use foreign words or phrases to make it clear to the reader that the point-of-view character is having trouble with the locals for speech or text reasons.
Dialect also does this, depending on the dialect. I’ve had characters speak more and more in dialect to show increasingly intense emption. They slip out of formal English into a thick Lowland Scotts brogue, or eastern Appalachian English as a red-flag, that anger or worry is overriding training. Books used to be written entirely in dialect, or with long passages in dialect, such as The Secret Garden, or the original Uncle Remus Tales. It helps to read those sections or books aloud, as they were probably intended to be, so you hear what you are seeing. That has gone out of style today, in part I suspect because fewer and fewer readers are used to different spoken versions of English.
So, in some of the short stories I’ve been working on, there are bits of foreign language and dialect. The Hungarian doesn’t seem too bad, because it is limited to personal titles, like those above, or please and thank you. They fall into the flow of the story and readers should catch on quickly. The words will, ideally, slip into the background as flavors, not stand out as a main dish. Ditto the story that is set in Tallin, Estonia, and the Devon County story with the Hunter Clan phrases.
The Finnish piece, however, gave me pause. It has two problems. First, it is short, so there’s not a lot of time for readers to get into the flow of the character’s mindset and worldview before the action ramps up. Second, Finnish is a very unfamiliar language. Even the names are a bit odd compared to most German, Dutch, Hungarian, and Scandinavian names, so that will catch readers a little. The language is very different as well. So I have 1) characters with unusual names, 2)a setting that us not familiar to most readers, 2) words in a language that looks strange and is rarely heard outside of that corner of the world, and 4) a complicated Familiar and mage. As I reread it to polish things and clear out obvious typos, I discovered that I was snagging on some of the names and words.
I’m the author. This might be a major problem. I can thin out the Finnish, taper it down to what is absolutely needed, but what is needed? How much will be sufficient and how much will send the reader flipping to the next tale?
The goal is flavor and to give readers a sense of the main character’s world and the problems he or she faces. Too much of a fun thing, however, might confuse the reader as much as the character, especially in a short story set in an unfamiliar world. I want flavor in my food, not food hidden under the spices.





4 responses to “How Much is Too Much: Foreign Language Edition”
I struggle with this a lot. Not only does my own background include a (mostly shallow) grasp of several of Indo-European languages and bits of others, it also includes a great fondness for etymology (I blame Tolkien in my susceptible adolescence) which I autistically assume everyone else shares (or ought to)).
And then I go along making up languages to flavor different groups of people, along with cultural differences in clothing, food, social relations, etc. I enjoy both the effort and the effect, and no one has complained to me, but that may well be a case of authorial obscurity as a writer (fewer to be critics) rather than acceptability.
In any case, keeping it to just a flavor means restricting it to curses, surprises, pronunciation stumbles, polite titles… just those moments of reduced restraint or deliberate intent that show stress on the part of the speaker — that’s mostly what it’s for. Occasionally, the speaker’s alternate word for a cultural object can spark a brief sharing of background explanation of (or private rumination on) a bit of personal background.
The trick is to keep a light hand on the salt shaker. It’s a tool, like any other.
And some foreign languages are less foreign than others. Which can have its own hazards and plot points, depending on the world of the story and how things work there. Readers who are comfortable with French or German or pop-culture Japanese or Chinese might stumble over Finnish or Thai.
Which reader?
Some people, for instance, prefer it when oni and rakshasa are translated into ogres in fairy tales. Others prefer the original term.
Was reading a collection of Greek fairy tales where the translator said he left the drakos in the original Greek because while it literally meant dragon, they were more like ogres.
View from a voracious reader: Personal names, place names, exotic foods, exotic clothing, and occasional curses or epithets are fine in Foreign. The rest of the story is written in English, because it’s intended to be read by English speakers.
Agatha Christie used too much French in her stories.