Constructed languages can add depth to fictional worlds (as Tolkien would agree). Learn to pronounce names in the Cerulean language with the help of the International Phonetic Alphabet.*
* If your browser doesn’t do Unicode, you might see some strange results here. Just pretend those letters got hit by cosmic rays and mutated.
People who have beta-read my stories and (unpublished) novels usually comment on the nomenclature, the naming of people, places, and ideas. I suppose this is by contrast. There are an astonishing number of popular books out there where the author just went in and “wrote something that looked alien” or “came up with a fantasy name.” Here are some BAD examples:
- Keyboard-fu names such as Stndsfrtg, apparently created by button-mashing or scrabble-tiling a few characters together. (Looking at you, Phantom Girl from the planet “Bgtzl.”)
- Apostrophe-fu, where Ever’yone H’as an A’postrophe.
- Unicode-fu, where we break out the special characters (especially the German ones, which look cool): Bühánnèk, Rålbjênng.
In contrast, one of my novels features characters named Tounbaris Deorgh, Margalle Renhaaleon, and Saamet Keldorra. Whether your conscious mind realizes it or not, these share an internal consistency. If I asked which of these two names belongs to a fourth character—A) Naori Benaatrazin or B) K’ronk Gälbklot—most people would immediately recognize that (A) shares features with the existing set. (On the other hand, if oddball K’ronk ever shows up, it would be clear he didn’t belong, which can be an important clue as well. You’ll see an example of that later.)
The thing is … one can take a guess at how to pronounce Tounbaris without knowing the rules. Deorgh is trickier, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. These names are in Western / Trade / the Cerulean language (a conlang), and since they belong to people of the sea, it is to be expected that there will be regional variations.
However, I could tell you more …
- Tounbaris /tuːn.ˈbɑr.ɪs/ “Bell Ringer” is a fortunate name for sea folk, as it means the turn of the hourglass and represents hope for the future.
- Deorgh /dɛ.ˈoʁ/ “South” tells us his people came from the cooler lands down south. We might also call him Toun the Southerner. (By the way, that /ʁ/ is the famous “French R”, not the /r/ from Spanish or the /ɹ/ from English. Islanders spell it using the glyphs for R + GG when it occurs at the end of a word.)
Now, some magic happened between those / / marks above. That’s called the International Phonetic Alphabet. (I use it a lot, so much I wrote a few Python scripts to make typing it in easier.) Once you know how to use it, it not only makes learning a new language easier, it makes constructing languages more consistent as well.
But I had additional help—The Language Construction Kit. (Available as a free website, but I have the book, which is more detailed.) Beyond that, I had experience: over the years, I’ve studied Spanish, French, German, Latin, and Japanese as well.* Accidentally, I became an amateur linguist; from there it was a very short path to creating my own languages.
* Studied: does NOT imply I can speak these language fluently. I can read the first, guess at the next three, and identify a few minor features in the last.
Follow me for a short while. I’m going to teach you to talk like an Islander. By example!
Vowels
You may have noticed only certain combinations of vowels occur in the names above. That’s because there are only ten possibilities. Unlike in English, they only ever have one possible spelling.
- Short vowels a /a/, e /ɛ/, i /ɪ/, o /o/, and u /ʊ/. You can simulate these in English with “bat, bet, bit, boat, book.”
- Long vowels such as aa /aː/, ei /eː/, ii /iː/, au /ɔː/, and ou /uː/. The only odd one there is the “au” as in “caught” (which might be different for you, depending on your dialect of English). Also, this is the Spanish / French / German / basically every language except English /i/ sound as in “bee.”
- There are also a few diphthongs, ai as in “Hi!”, aou as in “How?”, iou as in “Hue”, and eiy as in “Hey!”
- There’s one more vowel sound, /ə/, which we will meet below in special circumstances.
The Sound of Cerulean
Though I never state these rules in any story I write, they’re present, and determine what a valid word looks and sounds like. Now we come to the examples! All of these are proper names.
Doubled consonant + E
If e occurs in the situation above, it takes the sound /ə/ (“uh”, the Schwa sound); the consonant is pronounced in both syllables.
- Mol /mol/, but Molle /ˈmol.lə/
- Hanesa /hɑ.ˈnɛ.sə/, but Hanneskeiyn /hɑn.nəs.ˈkeɪn/
Final E or A
At the end of a word, final e or a are always pronounced /ə/. If there are two preceding consonants, they always get split between syllables.
- Hanesa /hɑ.ˈnɛ.sə/
- Temre /ˈtɛm.rə/
This excludes single consonants that are represented as a digraph, e.g. sh = /ʃ/:
- Cortaashe /kor.ˈtɑː.ʃə/, but NOT /kor.ˈtɑːs.hə/*
* Which brings up an interesting issue. Cerulean writes our “SH” sound as a single glyph. Just like the other letters, it can be doubled. Fortunately, words like Lashshe /ˈlɑʃ.ʃə/ are rare, and when written in a story, would probably just be Anglicised to Lashe. (You do have to think of these intersections and exceptions when you’re designing a language.)
Final I or U
In contrast to the rule above, the short vowels i or u at the end of a word become /i/ and /u/. (Note these are NOT the same as the long vowels ii /iː/ and ou /uː/.)
- Silatouri /sɪ.lɑ.ˈtuː.ri/
- Farradainu /fɑr.rɑ.ˈdɑɪ.nu/
Test Your Transliteration Skills!
Below are five common names from Earth. Assuming the consonants are the same, translate these into the form they would appear in Cerulean. There may be more than one correct answer, but warning: some of these names may be impossible to carry over without an alteration.
- Daisy
- Dianne
- Delia
- Doug
- Doyle
(Answers)
- Daisy → Deizi, Deiysi, etc. Here the “ai” in English is NOT pronounced like the ai /ɑɪ/ of Cerulean, but instead like ei.
- Dianne → Dayan or Daian. Notice that “Diana” would be Dayanne (and is more likely to be a real Islander name).
- Delia → Diliya. Shortening it to Dilia would make it read more like “Dilya”, and since the letter combination “ia” occurs so rarely, an Islander might choose that spelling instead.
- Oof. Tough one. There’s no “u as in but” sound, /ʌ/. I hate to say poor old Doug might be Dog in Cerulean, but … maybe Daug? (Ironically, the second one is pronounced similar to “dog.”)
- Cerulean doesn’t have an “oy” diphthong. They could simulate it with Doyle → Doyel, but it would read more like “doe-yell.”
Did you notice … ?
All of these names look foreign. One might expect Gaumfalle, Saisherra, and Nadraglein, but “Deizi” doesn’t seem to fit, even though it doesn’t break any rules.
That’s the power of creating a language behind the scenes.
That’s It! And Disclaimers
A relatively short one, today. As this blog goes on, I plan to put more articles on here about my writing, world building, and other topics such as realistic science in speculative fiction. Meanwhile …
Opinions presented here are entirely my own. Hopefully I provided proper attribution / links to everything I cited in the article; if I didn’t, please let me know and I’ll correct this post. At any rate, just because I linked somewhere, it doesn’t mean they had any input into this article. The words and opinions are all mine.
Like my blog? Great! I don’t collect emails or tips. Do me a solid and donate to The Trevor Project. I was a teacher for twenty years, and I know there were times that the one kind word I said made all the difference.
It’s a travesty the world has gotten as terrible as it has, and I wish doing my job hadn’t become impossible to bear.
One day I’ll have to write about that, too.







