How "legs and paws" ended up turning into a plate of Tote Oma
Today is International Translation Day, a key moment to remember that literature doesn't cross borders simply by swapping words from one language to another. Translating a novel is actually a cultural reconstruction project, a delicate balancing act where literal fidelity must sometimes yield to the fidelity of meaning, humor, and emotion. Conveying the atmosphere, quirks, and historical context of a book without losing its soul along the way is one of the greatest challenges we authors face.
The day that "eating-legs and walking-legs" caused a short circuit in Germany
When bringing SOY GRANDE to German as Ich bin GROSS, I quickly realized that Spanish is packed with comedic nuances impossible to copy directly. In the original book, Uncle Ángel shares wild anecdotes with customers at his barbershop. One story recounted how, while walking through a plowed field with his girlfriend’s father to ask for her hand in marriage, the young man tripped and fell. His future father-in-law, a rather blunt man, asked him: «¿Qué te has herío, las patitas de comer o las patitas de andar?» (in english: Did you hurt your eating legs or your walking legs?)
In Spanish, the joke lands instantly because of a strict linguistic distinction: piernas refers exclusively to human legs, whereas patas (used here in its affectionate diminutive, patitas) refers specifically to animal legs/paws. By using patitas, the father-in-law humorously demotes the young man to the status of an animal.
Attempting a direct literal translation into German—rendering the joke as "Ess-Beine" ("eating-legs") and "Lauf-Beine" ("walking-legs")—resulted in utter confusion. That is precisely what happened when my zero reader, Nancy, came across this literal attempt and suffered a complete "mental short circuit." Because German lacks that innate human-versus-animal leg distinction, inventing Ess-Beine and Lauf-Beine felt completely unnatural, the humor evaporated, and the scene lost all its meaning.
The solution? Instead of forcing an untranslatable literal phrasing, I replaced the walk through the field with a meal featuring a plate of Tote Oma ("dead grandmother")—a traditional dish from Brandenburg made of blood sausage, potatoes (boiled or mashed), and sauerkraut, famous for both its unusual name and distinct appearance. This allowed me to preserve the comedic energy and dynamic pace of the scene while adapting it to cultural references familiar to German readers.
When proper names require an instruction manual
Language wasn't the only hurdle; Spanish names presented their own twists. Most of the novel's chapters are titled with personal names. For a Spanish speaker, this is straightforward, but in German, it led to considerable confusion.
In Spanish, many proper names overlap with common words or feelings: Concha (shell), Soledad (solitude), Dolores (pains)... When reading the chapter titles, German readers were often unsure whether they were looking at an abstract concept, an object, or a character’s name.
To solve this, I decided to include a glossary at the back of Ich bin GROSS. It offers concise explanations for these terms and names while providing context for quintessentially Spanish customs, such as eating the twelve grapes on New Year's Eve, traditional culinary dishes, and key historical figures spanning the novel's timeframe (1960 to 2020).
A warm reception at the Zentralbibliothek in Dresden
All this effort in cultural adaptation has truly paid off. We recently presented Ich bin GROSS to German readers during an author reading (Lesung) at the Zentralbibliothek in Dresden, where we experienced firsthand the audience's genuine interest and engaging questions. Seeing readers connect with the story, grasp its background, and enjoy the book in their own language confirms that every adjustment and glossary note was worth it.
New horizons: STANDING TALL and FLIGHT MODE STORIES
Carrying these lessons forward, I am currently immersed in the English translation of the novel. The cultural and market differences in the Anglosphere are so distinct that adaptations started right at the cover: a literal translation didn't resonate, so the title will be STANDING TALL. In fact, the cover design is completely transformed for each language edition, tailored specifically to fit the aesthetic tastes and design trends of each market.
And the international journey doesn't stop here. The short stories from my collection Cuentos en modo avión (Geschichten im Flugmodus / FLIGHT MODE STORIES) are also currently being translated into German and English, ready to keep bridging cultures through literature.
How about you? Have you ever read a translated book where an expression, a cultural difference, or a redesigned cover caught your attention? What are your thoughts on adapting stories and adding glossaries for international readers? I'd love to read your thoughts in the comments below!
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