June 20, 2025
Fluency + Naturalness Check – Excerpt from my translated dys
Hi! I'm a French author currently translating my dystopian novel into English.
Here’s a short excerpt (about 470 words). I’d love to know if the English sounds **natural and fluent** to a native speaker.
I'm not looking for a full grammar breakdown — just an honest opinion on the **tone, flow, and if anything feels awkward or “too French.”**
Thank you in advance for your help!
---
Empty frames were scattered across the walls surrounding Angelie’s bed, like absent windows waiting for memories to inhabit them.
She slept deeply, curled in her sheets like a castaway adrift in an ocean of solitude, until a shrill hissing sound—like a serpent—cut through the oppressive silence of the room.
The strange noise seemed to come from just behind her head, a slithering whisper threading through the darkness.
She jolted awake, breath caught, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of the sound—until they landed on a familiar figure: her father, Huxley, standing at the foot of the bed, rigid as a statue.
Huxley’s appearance was timeless. His blue suit, perfectly tailored, echoed the elegance of the 1930s, as if he belonged to a bygone era. He wore it with effortless poise, a kind of enduring grace untouched by his sixty years. His neatly trimmed mustache added a touch of authority to a face that, though marked by time, still inspired trust and respect.
Angelie, still shaken, shot him a look that was half-annoyed, half-relieved.
“Dad! You scared the hell out of me!”
Huxley offered a gentle smile, the kind of paternal warmth that softened even the deepest fears.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he replied in a deep, calm voice. “I heard you groaning from the living room. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Angelie rolled her eyes, irritation overtaking concern.
“It was just a nightmare, Dad. Nothing serious.”
“Do you remember anything?” he asked, more anxious now, his sharp eyes scanning her tired face for clues.
She shook her head, visibly annoyed by his constant questions about her dreams.
“I told you a thousand times—I never remember my dreams.”
Huxley remained silent, but Angelie could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. His features had tightened slightly, betraying a worry he tried to hide.
Eventually, he nodded and changed the subject, sensing he wouldn’t get anything more out of her.
With a discreet motion, he raised his wrist, where a silver bracelet gleamed faintly.
Inside the dial, a hologram flickered to life, projecting the time into the air: 7:30 a.m.
A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
“Today’s the big day, isn’t it? You shouldn’t be late. I’ve heard the director is especially strict!”
Angelie raised an eyebrow, finding his attempt at humor clumsy.
“I’ve known him for twenty-two years,” she replied, sarcasm sharpening her tone.
Huxley chuckled softly before heading toward the door. But just as he reached it, he turned back, his expression more serious.
“I expect to see you in the kitchen in twenty minutes,” he added, this time with a touch of authority.
“Yes, Mr. Director,” Angelie muttered, rolling her eyes before burying her head back into the pillow.
Fluency + Naturalness Check – Excerpt from my translated dys
Hi!
I'm a French author currently translating my dystopian novel into English.
Feedback
Very natural.
|
Hi! This sentence has been marked as perfect! |
|
The strange noise seemed to come from just behind her head, a slithering whisper threading through the darkness. |
|
“Today’s the big day, isn’t it? |
|
You shouldn’t be late. |
|
Huxley chuckled softly before heading toward the door. |
|
Fluency + Naturalness Check – Excerpt from my translated dys This sentence has been marked as perfect! |
|
I’d love to know if the English sounds **natural and fluent** to a native speaker. |
|
“I’ve known him for twenty-two years,” she replied, sarcasm sharpening her tone. |
|
I'm a French author currently translating my dystopian novel into English. This sentence has been marked as perfect! |
|
Here’s a short excerpt (about 470 words). |
|
I'm not looking for a full grammar breakdown — just an honest opinion on the **tone, flow, and if anything feels awkward or “too French.”** Thank you in advance for your help! |
|
--- Empty frames were scattered across the walls surrounding Angelie’s bed, like absent windows waiting for memories to inhabit them. |
|
She slept deeply, curled in her sheets like a castaway adrift in an ocean of solitude, until a shrill hissing sound—like a serpent—cut through the oppressive silence of the room. |
|
She jolted awake, breath caught, heart pounding wildly in her chest. |
|
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of the sound—until they landed on a familiar figure: her father, Huxley, standing at the foot of the bed, rigid as a statue. |
|
Huxley’s appearance was timeless. |
|
His blue suit, perfectly tailored, echoed the elegance of the 1930s, as if he belonged to a bygone era. |
|
He wore it with effortless poise, a kind of enduring grace untouched by his sixty years. |
|
His neatly trimmed mustache added a touch of authority to a face that, though marked by time, still inspired trust and respect. |
|
Angelie, still shaken, shot him a look that was half-annoyed, half-relieved. |
|
“Dad! |
|
You scared the hell out of me!” Huxley offered a gentle smile, the kind of paternal warmth that softened even the deepest fears. |
|
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he replied in a deep, calm voice. |
|
“I heard you groaning from the living room. |
|
I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Angelie rolled her eyes, irritation overtaking concern. |
|
“It was just a nightmare, Dad. |
|
Nothing serious.” “Do you remember anything?” he asked, more anxious now, his sharp eyes scanning her tired face for clues. |
|
She shook her head, visibly annoyed by his constant questions about her dreams. |
|
“I told you a thousand times—I never remember my dreams.” Huxley remained silent, but Angelie could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. |
|
His features had tightened slightly, betraying a worry he tried to hide. |
|
Eventually, he nodded and changed the subject, sensing he wouldn’t get anything more out of her. |
|
With a discreet motion, he raised his wrist, where a silver bracelet gleamed faintly. |
|
Inside the dial, a hologram flickered to life, projecting the time into the air: 7:30 a.m. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. |
|
I’ve heard the director is especially strict!” Angelie raised an eyebrow, finding his attempt at humor clumsy. |
|
But just as he reached it, he turned back, his expression more serious. |
|
“I expect to see you in the kitchen in twenty minutes,” he added, this time with a touch of authority. |
|
“Yes, Mr. Director,” Angelie muttered, rolling her eyes before burying her head back into the pillow. |
You need LangCorrect Premium to access this feature.
Go Premium