It was a hugely enjoyable challenge to introduce English teenagers to Oksa Pollock, the loveable French heroine with incredible magic powers. Being a translator is like putting on Harry Potter’s Cloak of Invisibility or wearing a layer of Oksa Pollock’s Invisibuls — you don’t want anyone to see you’re there. You need to stay out of sight so that the reader has no idea how much blood, sweat and tears have gone into the mix.

While trying to stay invisible, you also have to navigate what feels like a lengthy obstacle course! The first set of walls I had to clamber over was the names of the many adorable, quirky creatures that inhabit Oksa’s world. These were plays on words in French, which meant they couldn’t be left as they were because an English speaker wouldn’t get the joke. I’d take a long run up and launch myself at one of these walls, get half way up, then fall flat on my back. It was totally exhausting! Some of the names were really tough to beat! Here are a few examples to show how I finally overcame the obstacles they presented:

Lunatrix and Lunatrixa: the French—Foldingot and Foldingote—is a combination of “foldingue” (crazy) and “dingo” (nutcase). There are girl and boy Lunatrixes, which in the French is shown by the “e” ending for the girl, so whatever I came up with had to be able to be varied for male and female. We often add “ess” in English to a name to show they are female, as in Prince and Princess, but that didn’t work here. What I came up with was Lunatrix, which is a combination of loony (since they’re crazy little characters) and tricks (for their weird abilities and the tricks they always have up their sleeves). They also have very large, moon-like, eyes so the first part of the name sounds like “lunar”, which relates to the moon. It was then easy to add an “a” on the end to make the female form.

Croakette: the French—Grenette—combines “grenouille” (frog) and the suffix “ette” which refers to a small version of something in both French and English. I was very happy with “Croakette”, which combines “croak” (the sound a frog makes) with “ette”. I also liked the way it sounded like “croquette”, as in potato croquette.

Gargantuhen: the French—Gelinotte—refers to a type of hen of normal size, although the Gelinottes in the book are massive — six feet tall. I was delighted when I came up with Gargantuhen, which plays on the word Gargantuan (which means immense or gigantic and refers to the French author, Rabelais) and is combined here with hen.

That was only the first obstacle though. There were also the names of the amazing magical powers that Oksa and the other Runaways (who had been exiled from an incredible, invisible world somewhere within this world) could use as weapons or useful tools:

Volumiplus: the French—Chuchalotte—is based on the verb “chuchoter” which means to whisper. This power allows someone to hear the tiniest sounds clearly. What I came up with was a name that combined “volume” (which is the amount of sound) and “plus” (the idea of getting louder). Volumiplus also sounded like some of the other powers like Magnetus (which I left the same in French, as it was clear what it meant) and Alpinismus (“Varapus” in the French came from “la varappe”, which means rock-climbing. I used a combination of Alpinism, which means mountaineering in many European languages and refers to the mountain range of the Alps, with the same “us” ending).

Having made my way through the tyre run of powers, I had to confront the monkey bars of magical accessories and objects. There are a variety of instruments and concoctions that help Oksa and the Runaways escape from the terrible dangers that befall them, and these were just as tricky to deal with as swinging from high bar to high bar.

One example is the Imagicon, which appears in Volume Two, and is the object that imprisons Gus inside a painting. The French—Claque-toile—combines the word for canvas or painting (“toile:) with “claque” which comes from the verb “claquer”, meaning to slam or bang a door. There is also the verb “claquemurer” which means to shut in. I tried all kinds of combinations with canvas and picture, but couldn’t come up with anything that was as snappy as the French, so I had to swing a little harder. “Imagicon” sounds a little like “emoticon”, which is used all the time in texting and emailing, and the word combines “image” with “icon” and contains “magic” in the middle too. The first letter “I” can also refer to the fact that Impicturement is a punishment for individuals only, and the “con” at the end is a slang term that can refer to a “convict” or “inmate”…

Then there was the mud run of the “Lunatrixish” dialogue. The Lunatrixes speak in a very complex way, which is totally at odds to the simple language usually found in the Oksa Pollock books. The authors use this to show how strange and fascinating these cute household stewards are. Sometimes my eyes and ears became so clogged up with mud that it was hard to tell exactly what the Lunatrixes were saying—something that Oksa struggles with too!

Here is a typical example: “The lineage of the Lunatrixes has preserved the recollection garnished with warmth of your erstwhile consent to cradle his body and lavish caresses on him”. All the Lunatrix is saying is that his toddler has remembered being cuddled and stroked by Gus — but the French is very difficult to understand and does not sound like everybody else’s normal, chatty way of speaking, so I had to do the same thing in English and make the language just as peculiar.

Then it was a clear sprint to the finishing line, although I had to be careful not to trip over my own feet on the way. Sometimes a translator has to avoid translating words just for the sake of it. Some of the names in the French are just as effective in English and just as easy to understand. It is important to know when to translate something and when to leave well alone – it’s all part of trying to stay invisible. For example, the Getorix (a creature with long, shaggy, untidy hair) was left unchanged, since it’s name is a reference to the Gallic tribal leader Vercingetorix, who had a voluminous mane of hair! Amplivox is another example—this is a capacitor (a pill to be swallowed) which acts like a megaphone and amplifies the voice. It would be hard to find an English equivalent that worked as well as the French which combines “ampli”, which occurs in “amplify” and “amplification” and “vox” which is Latin for voice, and is often seen in phrases like “vox pop”.

Being a translator is also like being a freedom fighter. You’re liberating thousands and thousands of wonderful stories and allowing them to come to England to make a new life for themselves. Anna Plichota and Cendrine Wolf’s books were originally written in French, so only French teenagers would have been able to enjoy them if it had not been for the many translators who have worked hard to translate this brilliant series into many different languages and bring Oksa and her exciting adventures to Pollockmaniacs all over the world!

In these books, Oksa Pollock likes to think of herself as a ninja warrior, so perhaps she’d have grown up to be a translator if she hadn’t had a different destiny to fulfil! As Etgar Keret said, “Translators are like ninjas. If you notice them, they’re no good.”

Oksa Pollock, the Heart of Two Worlds (volume three in the series) is out now and available from the Guardian bookshop.

Check out our blog about favourite works of translated fiction here. And see this funny gallery by Sarah Ardizonne How I translate.