The name “Chinglishtogo” makes some people laugh. Good. We meant it as a joke — but a serious one.
Here’s the thing: most translations of Chinese classics are written for scholars. Ours aren’t. And that’s not an accident. It’s a deliberate, slightly rebellious choice.
Let me explain.
The problem with “proper” translations
Open a standard translation of a Chinese classic and you’ll see sentences like:
“The Master said: ‘Is it not a pleasure to learn and, in due time, to practice what one has learned?'”
It’s accurate. It’s elegant. And for most readers, it’s exhausting.
You read the same sentence three times. You check the footnote. You realize you’ve forgotten the first half. You close the book.
That’s not a reading problem. That’s a translation problem.
What we do instead
We translate the way a friend would tell you the story.
If a sentence needs a footnote, we rewrite the sentence. If a metaphor doesn’t land in English, we find one that does. If a passage assumes you know three dynasties’ worth of history, we explain it — briefly — or cut it.
Is it the “most accurate” translation? No.
Is it the one you’ll actually finish? Yes.
Three rules we follow
Rule 1: Write for the reader, not the scholar
Every sentence is tested against one question: would a normal person understand this on the first read?
If not, we rewrite it. No exceptions.
Rule 2: Keep the flavor, lose the fog
Chinese writing has rhythm, humor, and a certain sideways way of saying things. We keep that — but we don’t keep the fog. The goal is “reads like a story,” not “reads like a legal document.”
Rule 3: No homework
No footnotes. No glossary at the back. No “see chapter 3 for context.”
If you need a second book to understand the first, we’ve failed.
Why call it “Chinglish”?
Because we’re leaning into it, on purpose.
“Chinglish” usually means bad English with Chinese grammar. We use it differently: English that keeps a little Chinese flavor — a rhythm, a directness, a way of seeing the world — but stays clear enough to read on a bus.
It’s a wink, not an apology.
Who this is for
- The curious reader who’s always wanted to read Chinese classics but never knew where to start.
- The traveler who wants to understand the stories behind the temples and festivals.
- The parent who wants their kid to know where the moon rabbit comes from.
- Anyone who tried a “proper” translation once and gave up.
If that’s you, you’re in the right place.
Where to start
All six of our books follow the same rules. Pick whichever subject pulls you in — folktales, festivals, mythical creatures, architecture, food and tea, or old towns.
They’re short. They’re plain. And they’re written to be finished.
That’s the whole promise: if you can’t read it, what’s the point?