Real Life Diagnostics: Are These Native Words Confusing?

Critique By Janice Hardy, @Janice_Hardy

Real Life Diagnostics is a weekly column that studies a snippet of a work in progress for specific issues. Readers are encouraged to send in work with questions, and I diagnose it on the site. It’s part critique, part example, and designed to help the submitter as well as anyone else having a similar problem.

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This week’s questions:

1. Does this introduction of my third viewpoint character make it sound like the story is starting over again or like a new story is starting? [Something that I'm obviously trying to avoid as I first introduce each of the three POV characters. Note: Imani, the second POV character introduced, is mentioned in this first sentence. But the first POV character introduced, Longo, lives in a different locale and their stories don't cross over until much later.]

2. Are the words from the character's native language and the names of minor characters confusing or clunky in this passage?

Market/Genre: YA Historical Fantasy

On to the diagnosis…

Original text:

Background: This is the introductory scene of the third viewpoint character for my YA historical fantasy novel [in progress].

Only two more days of walking separated Moïshe from Imani. Two days stretched out like gazelles, resting on their sides in the heat of the day, and beyond them, the distant grey-blue ribs of sand in which Ketema lie.

The pole—from which a fine, fat gazelle was hanging—dug into Moïshe’s shoulder. He lifted it over his head with both hands, shifting the weight to his other shoulder, which was no less sore from the carrying. The thin strips of hide that lashed the animal’s legs to its spit, strained and groaned with this interruption to its rhythm. But after a few steps, the body sagged and swayed in step with Moïshe and his abo once more, the bindings squeaking as they rubbed back and forth against the pole. The scent of hot, blood-matted fur wafted into Moïshe’s nostrils as the winds shifted front.

Of the youngest three on this hunt, Moïshe was closest in height to his abo, and since Abo had made this kill, naturally the gazelle was in their charge. The second kill sagged on its pole between Neighbor and Ahmadou, Kofi’s abo. Moïshe had watched the two men all day carrying their pole right beside him. Neither ever shifted the weight. They seemed to have shoulders of flint.

Each step across the hot, grassy mounds crinkled under Moïshe’s feet, reminding him of why they’d had to go so far on the hunt to begin with. It still hadn’t rained. Despite his sore shoulders, he thanked the amlaks for blessing his abo and the other hunters with success. There would be a feast to celebrate his betrothal to Imani.

My Thoughts in Purple:

Only two more days of walking separated Moïshe from Imani. Two days stretched out like gazelles, resting on their sides in the heat of the day, [and beyond them, the distant grey-blue ribs of sand in which Ketema lie.] This is a little confusing. Two days stretched out like gazelles fits the simile, but this section doesn’t fit with the “two days” the sentence starts with. I suspect this is referring to something other than the two days. (more on this below). Also, I’m not sure what Ketema is, though it could be a city/village. Or maybe another type of animal?

[The pole] I stumbled here because I had no context for this—from which a fine, fat gazelle was hanging—dug into Moïshe’s shoulder. You might consider flipping these so we see the gazelle first to understand this is a hunting party, then show his discomfort He lifted it over his head with both hands, shifting the weight to his other shoulder, which was no less sore from the carrying. The thin strips of hide that lashed the animal’s legs to its spit, strained and groaned with this interruption to its rhythm. But after a few steps, the body sagged and swayed in step with Moïshe and [his abo] I have little context for this word, so I don’t know what it means once more, the bindings squeaking as they rubbed back and forth against the pole. The scent of hot, blood-matted fur wafted into Moïshe’s nostrils as the winds shifted front.

Of the youngest three on this hunt, Moïshe was closest in height to [his abo, and since Abo] why is one capitalized and one not? I suspect abo means some type of mentor, but that’s just a guess had made this kill, naturally the gazelle was in [their] so Abo is a group since this is plural? charge. The second kill sagged on its pole between [Neighbor and Ahmadou, Kofi’s abo.] I assume these are all people, but I’m a little lost. Moïshe had watched the two men all day carrying their pole right beside him. Neither ever shifted the weight. They seemed to have shoulders of flint.

Each step across the hot, grassy mounds crinkled under Moïshe’s feet, reminding him of why they’d had to go so far on the hunt to begin with. It still hadn’t rained. Despite his sore shoulders, he thanked [the amlaks] feels like some kind of holy person for blessing [his abo] Now I’m thinking this means hunting party and the other hunters with success. There would be a feast to celebrate his betrothal to Imani.

The questions:

1. Does this introduction of my third viewpoint character make it sound like the story is starting over again or like a new story is starting? [Something that I'm obviously trying to avoid as I first introduce each of the three POV characters. Note: Imani, the second POV character introduced, is mentioned in this first sentence. But the first POV character introduced, Longo, lives in a different locale and their stories don't cross over until much later.]

Very hard to say without seeing anything else of the book. If Imani has already been introduced and readers know her, and Moïshe was mentioned enough in her POV chapter that readers remember who he is and how he’s important, then they should be grounded enough to know this is another person in the story and move right into it. If he’s only mentioned a little, they might not remember him, and could be a little confused.

This does feel like an introduction, but that’s normal since it is indeed introducing a new character. If it refers to a character readers have already met, odds are it won’t feel like the story is starting over. There’s a connection to a previous story line with the betrothal (I’m guessing). I can’t tell if any of the problems mentioned here also connect to the core conflict, but if they do, that will also help show this is part of the main storyline.

You might look back to Imani’s POV and ask:

• What will readers know about Moïshe before they reach his POV?
• What plot threads (if any) are suggested or setup in Imani’s POV that continue here?
• Is there a way to start laying any groundwork (or develop more groundwork if it’s weak) for Moïshe’s POV in Imani’s POV?

Use your best judgment and try to read Imani’s chapter objectively. If a reader didn’t know who Moïshe was or anything about the story other than what has been read so far, would they understand who Moïshe is and how he fits into the tale? Flesh out accordingly where you feel it might be weak. Often, all it takes is a word or two to clarify something.

(Here’s more on introducing characters in s story)

2. Are the words from the character's native language and the names of minor characters confusing or clunky in this passage?

For me, yes (readers chime in here). Mostly because there was little context for me to figure out what and who they were. The clues also kept changing, so what I thought it meant shifted as I learned new information. Let’s look closer at those sentences:

Two days stretched out like gazelles, resting on their sides in the heat of the day, and beyond them, the distant grey-blue ribs of sand in which Ketema lie.

This sentence refers to how Moïshe feels about the two-day trek, so the gazelle simile works well and helps establish his world. But then it references distant ribs of sand and something that might be a village or an animal, and that doesn’t work with the simile. Since it’s lie and not lies, I’m leaning more toward Ketema being an animal than a place. “In which alligators lie” vs “in which New York lies.” But then it's capitalized, which means it's a proper noun, so I'm not sure.

Perhaps make this two sentences so the split between concepts in clear. I’d suggest adding a word or two to help show what Ketema is. “The village of” or “sharp teeth of” or the like. You might also consider just cutting it if Ketema have no bearing on the story at this point in time. Save it for when readers can see what this is and have more context to understand it.

But after a few steps, the body sagged and swayed in step with Moïshe and his abo once more, the bindings squeaking as they rubbed back and forth against the pole.

In this sentence, I don’t really know what an abo is. I get a sense it’s a person, but since he mentioned “the bindings” right after using the word abo, it could be referring to the bindings or harness used to transport the gazelles. Often the explanation for a word comes after it in this fashion.

Of the youngest three on this hunt, Moïshe was closest in height to his abo, and since Abo had made this kill, naturally the gazelle was in their charge.

The capitalization switch here confused me further. In this instance, abo does feel more like a person, perhaps a mentor or senior “officer” type. But the capital Abo feels more like a name or title, and I don’t understand what the difference between “his abo” and “Abo” is. It’s also “their kill” which leads me to believe Abo is plural, referring to a group of some type.

The second kill sagged on its pole between Neighbor and Ahmadou, Kofi’s abo.

I assume these are others in the hunting party, and abo once again feels like a mentor type word, but Neighbor has a strange usage. It’s an actual word with specific context, and doesn’t fit the naming rules already established in this world. I also have no other context for who these people are aside from members of the hunting party, and I don’t get a sense that they’re important, so I wonder why they’re mentioned. Kofi feels like someone who might be important, since Moïshe referred to Ahmadou as Kofi’s abo. So does that mean Neighbor is Moïshe’s abo? Or are Neighbor, Ahmadou, and Kofi all part of the same abo?

It still hadn’t rained. Despite his sore shoulders, he thanked the amlaks for blessing his abo and the other hunters with success.

Amalks feels like a holy group of some type, maybe spirits or priests. Again, abo comes across as a group. But it uses abo and other hunters in the same sentence, so are all abos hunters or is abo something a little different?

All of these terms can work just fine if enough context is provided to make it clear what they are. I get a general sense of them, but the usage doesn’t feel consistent, so I’m a little confused overall. You mentioned them being in Moïshe’s native language, but is that a real language or one created for the novel? And would readers know they’re real words and be able to understand them?

It might be worth taking a minute and asking if you need the native words. Using the old, “if it’s a rabbit, don’t call it a smeerp,” advice, what’s gained by the native words versus using words that are instantly recognizable to readers? If they’re different just so they sound “fantasy and exotic” then maybe rethink a few so readers can better understand the story. If the terms have solid grounding in the fantasy world, then they’d help flesh out that world.

For example, I can see a group of hunters with a specific purpose being named something to has meaning to these people. “Abo” could easily refer to a group with a task that is different from a regular hunting party. “Amlaks” feels a little superfluous, because why not just call them gods or spirits or priests or whatever they are? It’s a name referring to something that already has a name, but it doesn’t change the understanding of that name at all. In fact, the name actually makes it harder to understand what it is because it has no basis in our world.

(Here’s more on using foreign languages in fiction)

Overall, I think a little tweaking to clarify what things are would solve the confusion I had. I’d suggest looking at the terms you’re concerned about and trusting your instincts on what is working and what isn’t. If you have concerns about a term, cut the term and see how it reads with a real word. If it doesn’t change the story any and makes it easier to understand, don’t use the term. If a sense of worldbuilding is lost, keep the term and add a little more context to it so readers will know what it means. You might also try getting a beta reader who doesn’t know the story or the terms to read it and mark anything they didn’t understand. In general, less is usually more in these cases.

The italics also might not be necessary, as you typically only italicize foreign words, and these words are normal to these characters. “I’m going hunting with my abo” is like saying “I’m going dancing with my peeps.” You wouldn't write peeps. That could help make the terms less obvious.

Thanks to our brave volunteer for submitting this for me to play with. I hope they–and others–find it helpful. I don’t do a full critique on these, (just as it pertains to the questions) and I encourage you to comment and make suggestions of your own. Just remember that these pieces are works in progress, not polished drafts, so be nice and offer constructive feedback.