Captain Florida is always fascinated by how people far, far away have their impressions of our state shaped by movies, TV shows and books. Especially books. Especially my books. Because this is about me, after all. That's why they call me the captain.

Example: One of my books somehow found its way to Ireland, and a reviewer for a Belfast newspaper said that Florida was a frightening place. This is Belfast, remember. Then the reviewer called me a "sick bunny." I'm not sure what this means, but the Irish are a powerful people, and I don't want any trouble.

Conversely, I also found a number of reviews from France on the Internet, which were uniformly great, such as: "Tim Dorsey, qui se révéle digne des plus grands par son sens du rythme, des dialogues et des situations cocasses, quand le prochain roman? Vite!!!"

Like I said, all great. I have no idea what they just said, but it's such a classy-sounding language that a bad review in French is like bad sex.

What's really interesting, however, is how foreign publishers choose to present Florida books. Take the British. They're fascinated by alligators. And they have no idea what they look like. An artist drew one for the cover of my first novel. It has the body of a reptile and the head of a basset hound. Then there's the French. For the cover of Florida Roadkill, they decided to go with a noirish negative photograph of a busy intersection. In the middle of the picture is a highway sign that says Cleveland. The Japanese have very tiny books. For Roadkill, they put a traffic light on the cover.

That's all that would fit.

Then there's the issue of translation. First, let me say that I'm sick and tired of everyone bad-mouthing France over foreign policy. We have a long history of friendship with the French, some of the finest people on earth. Did I mention they've also purchased and translated more of my books than any other country?

Second, I'm always impressed by anyone who has mastered two or more languages. The speech center in my brain can barely handle trying to remember that "irregardless" is not a word, when to use "flammable" and why we even have the subjunctive tense.

About once a year, I exchange e-mail with my French publisher, hammering out the difficult-to-translate passages. I always find it hilarious where the cultural gaps lie (while retaining awesome respect and gratitude for the translators, who can easily get back at me since I can't read my books once they're done).

The result is something I never anticipated. My books are heavily footnoted. Mostly about stuff they never asked about, which really inspires my respect for the publisher. Among the small-type explanations: The Garo Yepremian pass in the Super Bowl, the annual mullet toss across the Florida-Alabama state line, Aerosmith, what the four Hs in 4-H stand for (I have no idea), that Phil Spector was the innovator behind my reference "Wall of Sound."

But on to the translators' questions, the majority of which are unexpected and eclectic:

"What is exactly the sand dollars (scratch-off) game?"

"What is Monkey Jungle?"

"What is a dust bunny?"

"I don't understand the grassy knoll."

"What is a hurricane glass?"

"What is an air biscuit?" (I'm tempted to reply "the less-talented half-sibling of Sea Biscuit.")

Some of the most interesting questions are the ones they attempt to answer themselves. In my political satire, Orange Crush, an independent candidate for office was inspired by a Florida activist who placed angry, full-page ads in the Tampa Tribune, going on tirades against all things incumbent. The motto of the candidate in my book was "madder than a sumbitch!"

Question: "Is this somehow related to the female possum (though this animal seems to represent cowardice, not energy)?"

I mocked Tallahassee demagogues, saying they stood behind their beliefs with a "firm, paper-jawed resolve." Question: "The problem for me is paper-jawed, that I found concerning a species of trout."

I had two characters learning how to fish in the Keys and got too fancy with a pun.

Question: "'They boned up on the presentation of the lure like it was a plaque at a Rotary Luncheon.' I guess that means they worked on the lure subject as hard and reverently as people who gather at a Rotary Luncheon would study those plaques (metal sheets with historical inscriptions that are about to be exposed on historical sites). Am I right?"

Others:

"'She plotzed in the doorway.' I could not find this 'plotz' word anywhere. Does that mean 'sulk' or 'brood?'" (I replied it was Yiddish for "have a cow.")

"Frog giggers. Are they those long forks that are used to overturn the meat on barbecues?"

Then there's a whole grab bag that I call the Walgreens Questions:

"What is a Dristan?"

"What is a Chapstick?"

"Who or what is Nair?"

"What are the Phen-Fen fat farms?" For the most part, however, it's my fault, starting with a rampant use of pop references.

"Who is Charlie Callas?"

"Who is Beavis?"

"Who is Deputy Dawg?"

"I managed to find the cover of Get Christie Love on the Internet, but I couldn't guess if it was a feature film or a TV show."

"Is David Duke an artist?"

"Why would an Indian pick such a place to weep?" (Concerning an idiot driving down U.S. 1 who throws a bag of litter out the window, and it splatters at the feet of a crying Indian.)

My use of song lyrics adds to the confusion:

"What does 'bust a move' mean exactly? Rock on with your bad self?"

And I truly feel bad for all the reference books I send them with my devotion to Creedence Clearwater Revival:

"What is 'chooglin'?"

Another time I was satirizing newspaper headlines that use words only found in, well, newspaper headlines. I came up with the worst possible permutation from all my years on the copy desk at the Tampa Tribune.

Question: "Headline: 'Pols Nix Proxy Prexy Tap' is quite obscure to me. Could you please unravel it for me? I went to an English-speaking friend of mine who gave me nothing."

All this was surpassed when I quoted the late Gov. Lawton Chiles:

Question: "We're goin' to the lick log?"

Oh, and finally, one more question that could only have been asked three years ago:

"Who is Martha Stewart?"

Tim Dorsey's latest crime novel is Stingray Shuffle. You can contact him at www.TimDorsey.com.