If you read enough crime fiction, you soon pick up on regional differences in the way the characters speak, and sometimes in the narrative. That’s true even if the book you’re reading is written in your first language. Even if you’re accustomed to those differences, you’re still likely to notice them when you read. For some readers, those differences add to the sense of place and local culture of a novel. They’re authentic, too. Other readers, though, may find them distracting.

Here’s the thing, though. Many readers find themselves distracted – even put off – if a regional use of language isn’t a part of a story. Here’s an example. Agatha Christie’s Third Girl is the story of Norma Restarick, a young woman who visits Hercule Poirot because she believes she might have committed a murder. She leaves before Poirot can ask her many questions, but with detective novelist Ariadne Oliver’s help, Poirot finds out who she is. It turns out that she shares a London place with two other young women: Claudia Reece-Holland and Frances Cary. When Poirot and Mrs. Oliver learn about the death of another woman who lived in the same building, Norma’s comments don’t seem quite so strange. Then, Norma goes missing. If Poirot is to discover the truth about what she said, he’ll need to find her. Throughout this novel (and other stories where it’s relevant), Christie uses the term ‘flat’ to describe those living quarters. There’s an argument that if she hadn’t (i.e. if she’d used ‘apartment/s’) instead, the stories might not have seemed so genuine. That’s what’s used in the UK (and other places, too) to describe a small rental that’s often in the same building with other rentals. The reverse is arguably true, too. It might seem jarring, or at least inconsistent, if an author used the word ‘flat’ to describe a US place that Americans would call an apartment.

Even within the same country, there can be regional distinctions that show up in crime fiction. All of Elizabeth Spann Craig’s series take place in the US South. In that part of the country, that thing you use to put your groceries in while you shop is called a buggy. It’s natural, then, that her characters would use that word, and that her narrative includes it. If those characters used the word ‘shopping cart,’ it would seem odd and probably too formal (a lot of people in the US would say ‘cart,’ or in a few places, ‘wagon.’).  ‘Shopping cart’ is not what’s used in the US South, especially when speaking. On the other hand, people who aren’t accustomed to that regional difference could find the word ‘buggy’ a bit confusing, unless it’s used well within context. Some editors and publishers even counsel authors not to use words like ‘buggy’ for that reason. Others, though, advise authors to use those words because they are authentic.

Publishers, especially the large, multinational ones, know that regional differences can become an issue. That’s one reason for which some titles are changed when a book is printed in another country. For example, Ian Rankin’s Fleshmarket Close is marketed in the US as Fleshmarket Alley. That’s because what UK readers think of as a close is called an alley in the US. The reasoning is that US readers would think of the word ‘close’ as meaning, ‘nearby,’ and might lose the point of the title. Whether that’s actually true or not, it’s not uncommon for publishers to make that decision. I’m sure you could think of a lot of other examples, too, of titles that have been changed for different markets for that sort of reason.

Tarquin Hall is the author of the Vishwas ‘Vish’ Puri series that takes place in Delhi, where Puri owns a private investigation agency. Most of the work comes from families that want to vet potential spouses for their children. Puri, his wife Rumpi, and his mother, Mummy-ji, all use expressions that are common in India, but not elsewhere (e.g. the word ‘wallah’ to mean a person in a certain business, such as an ice cream wallah. ‘Wallah’ can also mean a resident of a place, such as a Delhi wallah to mean a resident of Delhi). There are also, of course, different regional terms used in some parts of India, but not in others. Those regional terms arguably make the characters more genuine and authentic.

Sometimes, authors use regional differences in language to add to their characters and help distinguish them from one another. For example, Cat Connor’s Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Tracey is a Wellington-area PI who owns an agency called Wherefore Art Thou, and her specialty is finding people. Her choice of words and her use of expressions reflects her Kiwi background. Ronnie’s partner is Ben Reynolds, an American Intelligence officer who’s also a successful actor. Although he’s lived in New Zealand for a time, his way of speaking reflects the fact that he’s American. It’s an interesting way to add nuances of characters to both, so that readers get to know them better.

The use of regional language does raise some questions. Should the author use them at the risk of possibly confusing readers? Do those regional terms really add a lot to a story and to character development?  Do they confuse readers? For instance, if you’re not Canadian, would you have trouble understanding what Mike Martin’s RCMP Sergeant Winston Windflower wants when he goes to Tim Hortons and orders a ‘double double?’ Could you pick it up from context? What are your thoughts on this? If you’re an author, how do you handle it?

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Dale Hawkins’ Suzie Q.