Praise for I Am a Brave Bridge

In I Am a Brave Bridge Sarah Hinlicky Wilson chronicles the year she spent, aged seventeen, in the newly-independent Slovakia. She combines witty descriptions of grappling with Slovak grammar with wry observations on the country’s customs and history, highlighting the cultural differences between her U.S. homeland and the land of her paternal ancestors as it emerges from communist oppression. Wilson’s account of her teenage infatuation with a local boy echoes her enchantment with the country and the gradual process of understanding herself and finding her true vocation. A memoir, a coming-of-age story, and a love-letter to Slovakia rolled into one, this is an entertaining, informative and heartfelt introduction to a country that deserves to be better known and understood.

—Julia Sherwood, host of LitCast Slovakia and translator of Slovak literature

Sarah’s memoir of her adventures in the brand-new republic of Slovakia recalls a time of newness and curiosity, of a portal to the old world through the eyes of a wide-eyed American teenager. I was lucky to share a similar experience, moving to central Europe to live with my professor father in the summer of 1992. Slovakia during this time was a truly special place: communism had technically ended but consumerism was slow to make its cultural upheavals. The Slovak people were open, curious, and excited about the future, as much as two teenagers on the adventure of a lifetime. Sarah’s memoir brings back memories of incredible and overly generous home-cooked meals, genuine hospitality, now-laughable first heartbreaks: the sights, smells, and excitement of this unique time and place. It’s a must-read for anyone who loves Slovakia and is curious about central Europe during this time of great transition.

—Nick Balla, chef and author of James Beard Award-winning cookbook Bar Tartine

At one point while reading I Am a Brave Bridge, I turned to my wife and made her count on her fingers. Sure enough, she did it wrong. Sarah Hinlicky Wilson points out dozens of ways in which Slovaks and North Americans do things differently, and it was fascinating to read this culture shock in the reverse direction from my own experience. Over and over, I found myself laughing out loud and reading portions of the book to my wife, almost as if to say, at long last and with proof: “See, I’m not crazy. I’m just Slovak.” Wilson’s eye for small, often-hilarious cultural differences-not to mention the sheer lunacy of an American trying to learn Slovak grammar-made the book a joy to read. But she also captures a deeper existential commonality of many immigrants: the dislocated, in-between feeling of those of us for whom home will never again be a place and a given people. But there’s a trace, a form of nostalgia, that remains. Even if I’m no longer truly a Slovak, I do always have a bottle of home-made slivovica in the cupboard and the first thing I did after finishing I Am a Brave Bridge was pour two glasses. One for me, one for my car’s windshield wiper reservoir.

—Alexander Boldizar, author of The Ugly