In May, my husband Will and I travelled to Karlovy Vary, Czechia, to research my novel-in-progress, which is set in that spa city on the brink of World War One. A few months before the trip, I emailed the Karlovy Vary Municipal Library and the Karlovy Vary Museum, explained my project, and asked their advice on how to prepare for my four-day visit.
Librarian
Kateřina Krieglsteinová recommended that I search the library's online catalogue and send her a list of books that interested me so she could have them ready when I arrived. My first morning in Karlovy Vary, she presented me with a stack of twenty-one books, none of which are available to me in North America.
Will and I poured through the books and quickly dealt with a half dozen either because we could grab the pertinent information easily or we decided the text was too dense to explore during our limited time. Most of the books were written in Czech. While my maternal grandparents immigrated to Canada from (then) Czechoslovakia after WWI, I don't speak the language.
Translation apps are a godsend and old photographs speak thousands of words.
Kateřina let me take the remaining books to my hotel. Somehow, in the midst of my other research and touring, I managed to peruse them all during my next three days -- who needs sleep? I took over 250 photographs of text and historical pictures that portray the city during the era of my story.
After lunch that first day, Will and I met with historians David Čech, Jan Nedvěd, Lukáš Svoboda, and Lukáš' dog in their office in an apartment building separate from the Karlovy Vary Museum. We spent almost two hours talking about life in Karlovy Vary (aka Karlsbad in German) during the Golden Age of the Great Spa Towns of Europe. Eleven of those towns including Karlovy Vary are now a transnational UNESCO World Heritage Site.
At the end of our productive talk, I thanked the historians for giving me their time. They said it was part of their job to assist anyone interested in the town's history. I further imposed on their generosity by leaving them a bunch of additional questions. Since my return home, David has sent me detailed replies that will make my story more authentic.
Next, we checked into our spa hotel and scurried back to the library in pouring rain for my 5:00 pm informal talk with library readers. Kateřina had arranged for a translator and created posters in Czech and English to promote the event.
We agreed on a question-and-answer format. Kateřina posed questions, the translator restated them in English, I replied, and the translator repeated my answers in Czech for Kateřina and the audience. I'm afraid I made the translator's job difficult by rambling on rather than pausing in the middle of my answers. Being translated is an acquired skill.
To my surprise, Kateřina had purchased two of my novels online for the library. I donated a third book, and now my novels live overseas in the Karlovy Vary Library. One attendee had already read my latest novel, A Killer Whisky, and had purchased one of my earlier books, which she asked me to sign.
I was also surprised to learn that the Karlovy Vary library is administered by the city's Tourism Information Centre. Kateřina told the tourism director about my project, and he invited me to his office for coffee. He explained that their main markets for long-term spa visits are Czechs, Germans, and Russians living in Germany. When my novel is published, he would like to arrange for a Czech translation to encourage interest in longer stays. Would I be open to this?
Wow! I'd assumed I was writing this book for my usual English-speaking-largely-Canadian readers. Translation would extend its reach. I said I'd do my best to make this happen.
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| Teplá River, Karlovy Vary |
On their website, the Karlovy Vary Library posted a nice writeup about my speaker event with a photo of me and my interpreter. You can read it in English with their pop-up translation app.
