hello fellow cryptids

Dans le Lit, le Baiser by Henri de Toulouse-Latrec 

i'll use the example of the book i was reading that prompted this post in the first place, The Maiden and Her Monster by Maddie Martinez (which i am really enjoying). the line that bothered enough to post was "Later that night, Malka sat on the floor of the bedroom she shared with her sisters as they made paper cuttings to decorate their house for Bayit Ohr, the upcoming winter festival of lights."

i absolutely understand the impulse to explain what Bayit Ohr is; this is right at the beginning, before we've settled into this world and its equivalent of Judaism, and this is one of the first foreign words we see. but the festival of lights hasn't come up again as far as i've read (i'm about halfway), it's a throwaway line to tell us what season it is. but Malka absolutely knows what Bayit Ohr means! there's no reason for her narration to clarify it so much! if i were writing this, i might just leave the name there unexplained, because decorating your house already implies some kind of holiday or celebration.

but if i really felt it needed to be clear, i might add another sentence where Malka thinks about loving this tradition, or thinks fondly about Bayit Ohrs past celebrating and lighting candles or whatever is usually done, or thinks sadly about how times have changed and this year the festival of lights won't bring the joy it usually does. the context of her struggling village, her grief over recent losses, or her deep connection to her religion all provide easy ways to give information that is related to what she's experiencing in this moment, and all of that feels more fruitful and more in character to me than a tacked-on clause to translate for me.

there are other places in the book where Martinez does this really well imo, so i pulled one of those examples too! "Malka stepped through the doorway and paused as she noticed the decorative prayer box at eye level. Malka had touched her own mezuzah every time she entered her home in Eskravé for as long as she could remember, until she left for Mavetéh. She pressed her fingers to the box and then to her lips."

here Malka is in an unfamiliar place when something familiar catches her eye. it's described first, because she's taking in the sight, noticing it; then, because she knows exactly what it is, she calls it by its name—a mezuzah—and connects it to the home that she left behind and has been worrying about. the context of her homesickness and her spirituality both tell us what this object is, name it, and explain how to interact with it, without it feeling didactic.