Time & language differences in world-jumping stories

As I–once AGAIN–start rewriting the latter half of my YA fantasy novel, I find myself wondering about different various writers handle two particularly thorny aspects fo travel between alternate worlds: time and language. I’ve comitted to particular rules for my own story (which is not the point of this post, so I won’t go into it), but I’m curious as to what devices my fellow Dopers find most memorable, most reasonable, most irritating, etc.

So think of your favorite fantasy stories that involve world jumps. Do you prefer authors who pretty much ignore the issues, like Pullman? Authors who address one issue but not the other, like Lewis? What approaches do you find particularly imaginative, or particularly dumb?

Since I read everything Harry Turtledove writes, I’ve also read his YA “Crosstime” novels.

The thing that annoys me about how language is handled is that crosstime agents get language implants so they can speak the native languages without an accent. Y’know, I can buy temporal displacement technology, but I honestly can’t buy language brain implants. It’s a total cheat.

I rather like translators the way Diane Duane writes them–i.e., non-miraculous ones. In at least two of her Trek novels, the fact that the “universal” translators must in fact by programmed with the vocabulary and grammar of a given language is a plot point. I’m especially fond of a scene in, I think Doctor’s Orders when Uhura (who is naturally in charge of that sort of thing when the crew is establishing contact with a new species) is begging an alien she is interviewing for more verbs.

Actually it wasn’t Uhura doing the begging. It was Janice Kerausus. But I’m not prepared to admit to being such a geek that I remember that. Nosiree.

I prefer time be ignored until or unless it is central to the plot.

And I admit I hate “writing” in accents. It just makes it more annoying to read, bar a very few authors.

However, language must be addressed completely or not at all. You cannot let that one just slide by if you mention it at all, is what I mean. If you mentioned language in your story - like Skaldy, I know the story a bit, so forgive me - if there was commentary about the M knowing the girl’s language or not, then there MUST be further commentary about the new language.

If you never addressed it at all, I can deal with it a little better, but the people must be almost the same. I mean, I mustn’t think in my mind “these people are alien, exotic, how do they understand each other?”

While we’re on the topic, you know I’m still crazy to read the second half (if this is indeed the same novel.) GET ON WITH IT!

Best use: Fritz Leiber once had a character who spoke fluent Icelandic and sent him back in time 1000 years. Icelandic hasn’t changed all that much (there are some pronunciation issues, but they should be easy to pick up).

Worst: Asimov’s Pebble in the Sky starts out with the guy transported to the future and being unable to communicate, but almost immediately drops the entire issue by giving him a brain boost.

And let’s not forget – you don’t have to travel through time or into alternate dimensions to have language issues. There are dozens – maybe hundreds – of fantasy novels where people travel long distances on quests and never have any problems with any language barrier. (Does Lord of the Rings address this issue? It’s been a long time since I read it, so I don’t recall.)

Of course, the entire learning the new language thing is dull, and detracts from the action. For my current novel, I’m giving some thought to it; my main character speaks two languages (she was from a trading city, so had reason to learn), but not the third; she has to have everything in that language translated. I’m also having a non-human language that I never translate (though what the characters are saying is clear in context).

The Talisman by King & Straub. The protagonist is able to unconciously comprehend the alternate-world language and uses the compressed distance to cover more ground.

Zelazny’s Amber series skirted the issue by limiting it to visual effects. Like how the protagonists travel through them via auto and the passenger notices how the steering wheel changes as they cross each Shadow Earth.

I recently listened to Heinlein’s Have Spacesuit, Will Travel on CD. Time isn’t a major issue, although the main characters travel improbably distances in impossibly small amounts of time. Still, this is kind of brushed aside as being a result of technology.

Some alien critters speak English, to various extents. The “Mother-Thing” sings like a bird, and somehow manages to communicate the essence of things. There also exists a computer which manages to magically and simultaneously translate into a multitude of languages.

But in some ways, the events most relevant to this thread occur when Kip meets Junio–a centurian–from the days of the Holy Roman Empire (IIRC). Kip has learned some Spanish and Latin, and between the two manages to communicate with Junio. The discussion is kind of fascinating–in part because Kip is 17, the narrator, and his viewpoint on Junio’s “corrupted” language are so Kip-centered.

Of course language is addressed in Tolkien. “Westron” is the common language of lots of people, but it isn’t the first language of elves, dwarves, orcs, or most men outside Eriador. It is the language of Gondor, Rohan, the Shire, and other places where most of the action of LOTR takes place. While Westron is the first language for most of the men, it’s also used as a lingua franca for just about everyone else…so dwarves who want to talk to men speak it, as do elves, orcs, ents, eagles, and so on and so on. A bit of a cheat, but not egregious, because such “common” languages really did and do exist…French, English, Latin, Hellenic Greek, Arabic, Swahili, and so forth.

The story problem is that “learning the local language” is a common experience of travelers, and although it’s an interesting thing for the travelers to do, it isn’t interesting for people to read about. So you have stories where John Carter ends up on Barsoom, has a chapter or two where he deals with the natives despite being unable to speak their language, then lives among them while a few months go swiftly by, and at the end of the paragraph is able to speak the native language perfectly. Oh, and the author is able to insert some exposition directly in the “I soon learned their language, along with their strange customs…” paragraph. But of course, this violates the “show, don’t tell” rule. If the natives have strange customs, have the POV character witness the customs, don’t just tell us!

Sort of. While Dwarves, Men, and Elves all have different languages (and nobody but Dwarves speaks Dwarvish), there’s a common language, Westron, used for communication between races. Hobbitish is a rustic dialect of Westron, so Frodo & company don’t ahve any trouble understanding persons they meet on their travels.

Mika, the M has magical powers; I’m pretty sure it speaks all Earthly languages, and if it somehow met Mr. Spock it would have no problem being understood by him, either.

Did you even read the first sentence of my OP, dearest? :slight_smile:

Remind me in email and I’ll tell you about the writer’s conference from 2 weekends ago.

I’m reading Beyond the Pale by Mark Anthony now, and he addresses the language problem by having his world-crossing characters carry talismans that enable them to understand and be understood.

Hmmm . . .

One of the stories Hubby recently wrote had alien beings attempting to speak english. Worst case was they couldn’t speak it at all. Communication was with pantimime. Some beings knew a couple of key English words, and that’s all they used. The best were one who could speak english perfectly, except it was British English, not American English, which was humorous (in context), and one poor fellow who spoke english pretty well, but it was obvious he was not a native speaker. Obviously, you wouldn’t want the alien to speak his/her/its native tounge, and then have someone translate:

“Eep, opp orp, ahh ahh!” said the strange creature to Bill.
Bethany thought for a couple of seconds and said, “I think he said that the sun is over the
yardarm, and it’s time for a drink.”
Bill asked Bethany to explain to the alien that alcoholic beverages are not allowed on class-one galactic starships.
Bethany turned back to the alien and said, “Gitchie, gitchie, ya ya da da!”
The alien’s face fell and said, “Baruta klaatu nicto!”
Bill didn’t need that to be translated.

The pidgen english approach was what he thought was the most effective and fun. He’d write the dialog in english. run it through a translator into some other language (slavic or asian languages are the best) and then translate it back into english. He got some really funny stuff. For example,

The original:

Good day sir, and welcome to our fine planet. As you can see, we have quite a line waiting to go through customs, but I’m sure that you will be processed soon enough. So, keep your shirt on, and someone will be with you soon.

Translated to Japanese and back via Google:

The day when is good to the planet where we are good and welcome. In order for it to be possible to see, we possess the fact that it waits for the line in order to keep depending on habit rather, but I verify that sufficiently it is directly processed. So, if your shirt is maintained, you eventually there is someone.

After some cleanup:

Admiral Gentry exited the first-class cabin of the starliner, directly into the main concourse of the Fallopian spaceport. He had never been on Fallopia before, and never bothered to learn its language. But, this was an emergency mission, and he didn’t have enough time to learn Fallopian before he boarded the *Spermazoa[/a] three days ago. He was assured
that he would be met by someone from the Fallopian government who could speak English. He looked around and saw a Fallop in Ministry robes approaching him, hand outstretched in greeting. Gentry took the offered hand, shook it, and introduced himself. The Fallop nodded, smiled and said, “The day is fine to the planet where you are good and welcome. In order for it to be possible to enter, we possess the fact that waits for the line in order to stay, but I verify that sufficiently you be directly processed. So, if your shirt is maintained, you eventually be where there is someone.”
Gentry sadly shook his head. It’s the same the galaxy over, “hurry up and wait”.

Hubby’s opinion is that universal translators and such are crutches that authors use to have to avoid dealing with issues like this. The same with everyone in the universe speaking one language. Yeah, like that would ever be possible! On the other hand, he says the reader will suspend disbelief enough to accept that everyone can talk to one another, so even glossing over HOW they do that wouldn’t be noticed except to the hardest nit-picker.

Props to Hubby for helping me with this :slight_smile:

Olive

For a brief horrible moment I thought you wrote PIERS Anthony, and I was so horrified I dispatched my winged, fire-breathing, etc. howler monkeys to your side so you could be un-brainwashed.

I did like the translator microbes on Farscape. And, of course, the babelfish.

But TV and movies can’t really deal with learning a new language – takes too long.

But still, as far a time differences is concerned, why when giving an ultimatum, do alien races always put it in Earth time (“You have one hour to decide”)? Why not “one chlorot”? (“What’s a chlorot, captain?” “Thirty-five minutes, seventeen seconds.”) And about the only good thing about the original Battlestar Galactica is that they invented units for time (“yarons” for year), that indicated a different time scale, but were still close enough for the viewer to get the idea of the scale.

The Antonio Banderas movie “The 13th Warrior” deals with this in a neat way. He’s a Arab who doesn’t speak Norse traveling among Norsemen. There’s a scene where the group is sitting around the campfire speaking Norse while Antonio sits quietly. A fade and we’re sitting around the campfire, but this time a few of the words are in English. Another fade and now the Norsemen are speaking english.

But that’s not all!

There is a neat scene where Antonio responds to one of the many jokes about him in their language with an insult. He speaks slowly and hesitantly, and everyone listens closely. When he finishes, the insultee jumps to his feet and starts to say something, and one of the others holds him back and shouts “How did you learn our language?” And Antonio says “I listened.” And thus marks the first tiny bit of respect for Antonio’s character from the others (sans Bulvye, who sits back and thinks before making a decision.)

Reality Chuck reminds me of somthing else that happens in Have Spacesuit Will Travel. Units of time are given in “half-deaths of Thorium” (and some other element). (I think the universal translator then translates that into "X thousands of your years). There is also a scene when Kip, who is only slowly grasping that they have traveled unimaginable distances in a very short amount of time, asks the “Mother Thing” how far they are away from home, and discovers that the “Mother Thing” has no idea how far the earth is from the sun, or some similar thing, but is able to give a ratio of other distances, which enable Kip to calculate how far away they are from home.

Very neat, but isn’t it really almost as improbable as the babel fish? I’ll accept that he’s smart, but to learn an entirely alien language just by listening to it for a few hours? Come on!

I don’t think so. The best way to learn a new language is to completely immerse yourself in it, and we don’t really know how many nights they traveled together before he learned it. I think it’s clear it was several days if not weeks. And I know from experience you *can *get a working knowledge of an unknown language in a month or less, if everyone around you speaks it exclusively. And I’m not even a genius! Just barely above-average intelligence.

If you take for granted he was very smart, a scribe is what he really was, then I do believe it’s possible. He spoke clumsily and with an accent but understandably.

In Sliders, the language problem was always ignored. Everybody always spoke English, even when the Sliders landed in a version of San Francisco that had been colonized by Indians (from India) or by Pharonic-culture Egyptians.

The Kromaggs spoke English, too.