Special Delivery!

Posted by on August 28, 2013 in mogul's maybe marriage, travels | 2 comments

One of the annoying things about writing for Harlequin is that they insist on buying all print rights for your book in essentially all markets throughout the world.  (Yeah, there are exceptions, but not many.)

One of the fun things about writing for Harlequin is that they send you copies of your books from essentially all markets throughout the world.  The books come in plain brown boxes, with only a shipping label to let you know what’s inside.  They don’t arrive on any type of schedule.  Every once in a while, a box contains books you’ve previously received.  (And, alas, every once in a while specific books don’t actually make their way to your doorstep.)

This afternoon I received copies of my favorite Harlequin translation ever:  MILJARDARI KUSITAV ABIELU.  That’s THE BILLIONAIRE’S QUESTIONABLE MARRIAGE.  In Estonian.

Estonian

I was fortunate enough to travel to Estonia a few years ago — I spent a couple of days in Tallinn (where I marveled at a country that was more computer- and wifi-capable than home!) and wandered in the charming Disney-esque old city.  I visited the Singing Fields, where people gather for the traditional folksong singing that became the basis for a revolution against the Soviets.  I traveled to the  Estonian Outdoor Museum, where I saw traditional Estonian homes from the north and south of the country, dating back hundreds of years.  I walked along sea-side paths, complete with keeks (giant swings) and thatched-roof huts and mushrooms galore.

And now, I can picture all the people I met going into their local bookshop and asking for my book.  In Estonian.  Which makes me laugh, in a good way.

2 Comments

  1. We visited Estonia back in 1996, only a few years after the breakup of the Soviet Union. What a weird feeling that was.

    What was equally weird was looking at anything written in Estonian. I had no way of telling what was a noun, a verb or an adjective. That was the first (and so far only) time I’d ever been surrounded by people speaking a non-Indo-European language.

    Odd piece of Estonian trivia: I was told that three was an unlucky number there, rather than 13. Sure enough, the hotel we stayed in was missing a third floor. More precisely, it existed, but that was where all the storage was. The elevator for hotel patrons went straight from the second to the fourth floor.

    Bob Shepard of Denver

    • Bob – Interesting, about the number three! I don’t recall seeing that superstition while we were there, but now I’m going to learn more about it. (And yes, it *is* odd to look at a language where the words make no sense to my Romance-language-educated eyes :-) )

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