Casting Characters

The Last Daughter of Prussia was inspired by writings and stories I gathered from my family, but there were also many images that breathed life, heart and substance into the novel. Along the way, in this blog, I have shared quite a number of photos with you. If it's true that a picture says a thousand words then I need not write as many today except perhaps to explain how certain images gave form to the storyline and the characters in it.

Let me start with some of the CHARACTERS who evolved in my imagination as I researched old photos, diaries and books...

It all began with this image of  the famous Trakehner Fetysz Ox.

Fetysz Ox was tragically shot by the invading Russian Army at the close of WW2.

However, because of him I started thinking about a story involving an adventurous woman who

wanted to save her beloved Trakehners from the same terrible fate.

I turned to my grandfather Walter von Sanden's books
to find out more about what happened during the invasion.
The story started to unfold in my mind as I realized my own family
had lived through the nightmare of the Great Trek.
In my book, the character Baron von Falken
has a great deal in common with my grandfather.
I incorporated the story of his arrest by the Nazis into one of the chapters.
The Nazis thought he was an accomplice
 to the July 20th assassination attempt on Hitler.
(In my novel the baron wears the same green hunting jacket!)
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

 Blacksmith Helling is a main character in the book
 and he is also a great hunter.
This pic is actually of a man named Hellwig— the forester who lived
 on my grandparent's estate in Guja, East Prussia
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

 Baroness von Falken plays a big role too.
In The Last Daughter she is a sculptress
with a difficult personality—moody and depressed.
This pic is of my grandmother Edith von Sanden in her art studio
 in Guja, East Prussia before the war.
She really was an artist
 and though not nearly as complicated as my novel's baroness,
for as long as I knew her, she walked with a definite air of melancholy.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

Manya von Falken
In the story, she is the bright, spirited horsewoman and heroine whose courage
leads her family and her Trakehners on the dangerous  trek.
 Much of her character is based on the strength and outspoken boldness
that I saw in my own mother, Owanta von Sanden who is depicted in this photo.
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)

Joshi Karas
In my story, he is the son of Roma Gypsies.
He is a musically gifted and educated hero.
While researching information on Gypsies in the Third Reich,
I came across this photo of Karl Stojka a gypsy
 who was deported to the Nazi camp in Birkenau along with thousands of
other Gypsies, most of whom were gassed to death. Thankfully, he survived.
I hope he didn't mind me using his likeness as an inspiration.

Shambhala
The mare in the novel truly is a Last Daughter of Prussia.
She is brave, enduring and loyal until the end.
Her mission is to take her human family across the ice.
 Never  once does she stop to consider whether those she struggles so hard
 to carry are German, Jewish, Gypsy or Russian.
There is no prejudice in her.
 She is pure of heart and cares only about survival.
The horse in his picture is actually a stallion (Pregel)
but he has such a sensitive, intelligent face and
when I see him I think of Shambhala.
(The photo was taken from Erhard Schulte's fabulous book—Trakehnens Pferde.)

Aztec

is my Trakehner stallion hero. 

Unlike Fetysz ox above who inspired the story, Aztec is jet black.

He is spirited and courageous beyond words
 and his role is pivotal in The Last Daughter of Prussia.
 (Again this pic was kindly shared by Erhard Schulte. It is the stallion Flaneur.)

Before I go, I want to say that there are other characters. Every story of this kind must have an antagonist or more simply said a villain. My villain's name is Golitsin. Although, I don't have a picture of him I clearly see him in my mind's eye. You'll just have to read the novel when it is published to get your own idea of what he is like.

Until next time,

Marina Gottlieb Sarles

(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

The Last Daughter of Prussia has a Cover!

 Here it is!
The cover for my upcoming novel - The Last Daughter of Prussia.

 
  Happy Easter Everyone!
  The contract with my publisher Wild River Books has been successfully negotiated. The work is out of my hands and my characters—Manya, Joshi, Helling—whom I so dearly love will now be dialoguing with the final editor. 
  The pre-publication date will be in November 2012 and to all my loyal readers who have been asking repeatedly when the book will be out, I want to say that I will be having a book signing for hardback copies in Freeport, Grand Bahama and in Marsh Harbour, Abaco BEFORE Christmas. So stay tuned. I'll let you know via facebook and the newspapers etc. Others who can't be at the signings will be able to order copies. I'll send out all that information closer to the time.

  Working with my publishers Joy Stocke and Kim Nagy has been terrific. As we ironed out all the many details regarding international distribution, film rights, etc, I was impressed by their willingness to create a perfect alignment for all concerned. It really was a co-creative process made easier with the help of my wonderful lawyer friend, Ben Kavanaugh and my insightful husband, James Sarles.

  Now to the cover design. In the same way that people need clothes, my novel needed a cover—one that would fit its genre (historical romantic fiction) and appeal to those most likely to buy it. I think the cover—so elegantly created by Tim Ogline—does that. The elements are simple yet powerful and like a billboard they communicate the theme of the story which is one of survival and courage, beauty and devastation. I hope that people who see it will experience an eagerness to learn more about what is inside.

  In a previous blog post called What's in a Book Cover, I spoke about the process of choosing images for the cover design. In this particular post I'd like to share some insights about what the final images chosen represent and how they relate to The Last Daughter's story.

Trakehners on the dangerous trek across the ice

  Let me begin with the white horse on the cover. In the novel, her name is Shambhala. She stands for the brave Trakehner horses who, during the last bitter winter of WW2, fought to bring millions of East Prussians  to safety across the treacherous parts the Frisches Haff,  a frozen lagoon which was the only escape route open to the innocent fleeing civilians caught between the savagery of the invading Russian Army and Nazi orders prohibiting their evacuation. Like my heroine Manya von Falken (whose haunting eyes you see in the upper left hand corner), Shambhala also is a "last daughter" of Prussia. She represents the last of a Trakehner breed that was nearly wiped out in that war.

  A symbol of life force and strength, she is determined to move forward even though her eyes express that she knows she is leaving the good life behind. Never again will she canter across the soft earth of East Prussian meadows in spring, yet she is resolved to bring those she loves to safety, her hooves pounding at the snow which has made the path to freedom so difficult. Her animal spirit is intuitive. She recognizes her part along the tragic trail of history. She feels the weight of death and devastation on her back but she also senses that she might be a messenger of new beginnings.

Death and devastation after the massive Russian assault on an East Prussian city
Shambhala would have sensed this danger and carried on toward survival
Source:  http://historyimages.blogspot.com/2011/10/1945-russians-were-coming-east-prussia.html

  Some words now about the woman in the picture—Manya. Thank you to my talented photographer friend, Christine Matthäi who allowed us to use this photo. Thousands of stock photo images did not express what she captured in this pair of eyes. Not only can we see that Manya has a special connection to horses, but in her haunting gaze we sense that she has witnessed unspeakable horrors of war, rape and death. Like Shambhala, her eyes hold a vision for survival, yet there is a seriousness to her, a loneliness too, as though her struggle for life is being transversed through the pitch black channels of her focused pupils. She is strong, yet she knows that some part of her will always remain in East Prussia. As she looks through the snow, she sees the rich brown earth of the land her ancestors called home for countless generations (represented by the square containing the book's title) and she knows, despite her dreams for a better future that she will always be—a last daughter of Prussia.

East Prussian families fleeing on the trek
The travesties of war
Horses like these and Shambhala fought to keep their human companions alive.
They were true heroes.

  Finally, I just want to mention the use of color. Blue symbolizes faith. The story behind the cover is one that encompasses the travesties of war. It was not an easy story to write. Even so, throughout it all, the characters cling to threads of hope and love. Blue also represents military power—a threat that constantly hovers over the fleeing civilians—especially on clear days when Russian bombers have unobscured views—but blue is also a royal color that symbolizes strength, courage and devotion. So, for me, that blue sky is a link to heaven, to God and the possibility for change even though the white snow below means delay and death.

Until next time...

—Marina Gottlieb Sarles

Horses in my Blood

Trakehner mares with Arabian lineage whose faces express the beauty
 and intelligence of a fine breed of horse.
Photo (C) archive Schulte after a painting by K Volkers

  Sunday night I watched the Oscars. Excited to see that Steven Spielberg's film War Horse was nominated, I remembered that before the film came out, I had used The War Horses as the working title for my novel—a story also set against the sweeping canvas of war in Europe that describes the remarkable friendship between a bold young woman named Manya and her Trakehner stallion, Aztec. The movie led me to think about the bond that has existed between humans and horses throughout history. As Winston Churchill once said, "There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man." Nothing could be more true and by now, whoever reads this blog knows that horses run deep in my blood as well as in my novel which now is titled The Last Daughter of Prussia.

When I imagine my equine hero Aztec, I see him standing proud like this amazing
Trakehner, Pythagoras—a famous  stallion (chief sire in Trakehnen prior to WW2)
whose lineage carries on today

  

  As a little girl, growing up in the Bahamas,  I had horses. The rocky limestone terrain of the islands was certainly not as conducive to riding as the East Prussian meadows in Europe, nevertheless, when the sun sizzled in the Bahamian sky, I cantered along the white beaches on my pony Sparky, splashing bareback into the foamy turquoise waves. Sparky was part of the family. In the the evenings, at cocktail hour, he would climb up the wide stone steps that led to the verandah overlooking the bay and trot over to my father who was usually resting in a lounge chair after a long day at the clinic. Whinnying impatiently, Sparky would nudge my father's hand until he opened his eyes. Once contact was established, Sparky would stick his long pink tongue into my dad's whiskey glass and quickly drink the bitter-sweet mixture. No matter how tired my dad was, this little ritual always made him howl with laughter.

That's me on my frisky little whiskey drinking friend Sparky.
I'm almost ashamed to show you this picture when I look below and
see how elegant my mother looked in the saddle.
Photo (C) Gottlieb /family

  My mother Owanta was the real horsewoman though. An accomplished equestrian she won many medals in East Prussia before WW2 riding her spirited pinto Trakehner, Dandy, in shows. Her talent for riding, her keen eye for the lines, structure and the gaits of horses were imprinted on her DNA via a long line of horse connoisseurs. 

My mother Owanta Gisela von Sanden on her beloved pinto, Dandy
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family

  Even as far back as 1714, her ancestor—a horse breeder named Schlüter, bred such fine horses that Friedrich Wilhelm 1, King of Prussia, wanted them for his cavalry and own personal stables. Pleased with the horses Schlüter presented him, he made him a baron overnight, adding the 'von'  to his name which was a sign of aristocracy in Prussia. 

Friedrich Wilhelm 1
The King of Prussia who, around 1714, gave my ancestor Schlüter an aristocratic title
because of his superb horse breeding skills.   

  Two hundred years later, von Schlüter's descendent (my great grandfather) Arnold von Schlüter was still in the horse business and was the appointed administrator in 1895 for the royal stables Gudwallen in the district of Darkehmen, East Prussia—a stud farm directly linked to the famous horse farm Trakehnen—the so called 'City of Horses.' Arnold's eye for horses was so renowned that he had to employ people secretly to bid for him at auctions. If he raised his hand for even the most scruffy looking horse the price shot up as buyers knew that if Arnold von Schlüter wanted the unlikely animal it could be transformed into a winner. 

Trakehnen 1885.
My great grandfather Arnold von Schlülter would have visited this estate
many times from the horse farm he ran in Gudwallen.
In the background you can see the beautiful estate home.
 It was called the 'City of Horses'
Stallions lived like kings in heated stables with liveried stablemen standing guard
and looking after their every need.
Photo (C) Archive Schulte

  From stories passed down I learned that Arnold always wore white gloves. In fact, he carried several pairs with him wherever he went because of a personal obsession which showed itself whenever he saw horse manure in the middle of a busy street. Evidently, horse apples in the wrong place were an affront to his sense of order and muttering angrily, he would hop out of his carriage and remove the apples with his hands. I guess he went through a lot of gloves!  

Trakehnen Manor house before WW2

  Trakehnen and horse farms like Gudwallen do not exist anymore. At the end of WW2 most of the fine Trakehner horses had been requisitioned by the German Army or shot by Russian soldiers who invaded East Prussia with minds and hearts set on revenge for the atrocities committed by Nazis in the Ukraine and other parts of their nation. Anything German was to be slaughtered and primarily that meant women, children and animals as they were the ones left in East Prussia. Most of the men were at war. It was a terrible time. Millions of women were raped. The Trakehner breed suffered tremendous losses. Only a handful of pedigree mares and stallions made it to the west through snow, over long stretches of ice in that bitterly cold and final winter. My book The Last Daughter of Prussia is set in this time and brings witness to this terrifying exodus called The Great Trek.

Farewell parade of the Trakehners on the marketplace in Gumbinnen
before they set out on The Great Trek where most of them perished.
Painting by Carl Engel in the East Prussian LandMuseum Lüneburg

  As an author I would love to see a film made out of The Last Daughter of Prussia—one that opens the heart to courage and love like Spielberg's War Horse. The novel itself already sheds light on a dark, untold chapter of history, but a film with sound, music, living characters and moving images has the power to add another dimension to the lost voices that lie hushed in the bones of innocent people and brave dead horses. 

Until next time...

—Marina Gottlieb Sarles

PS. I want to give a huge thank you to Erhard Schulte. Most of the pictures in this post have been taken from his beautiful book called Trakehnens Pferde. His research of Trakehners is deep and accurate and he writes with unsurpassable knowledge and sensitivity that truly honors the breed and its history.

,

The Peace of Wild Things

A few evenings ago when I was in state of inner turmoil, I read this poem.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear for what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. 

I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time 

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

The peaceful world of East Prussia before WW2
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  The magic of a peaceful world so eloquently expressed, led me to remember where true stillness lies. Closing the door to my home, I went down to the water to "rest in the grace" of the ocean's waves lapping against the shore.

  As I sat on the beach lost in a world of problems, a school of blue runners swam past, their silvery sides flashing like coins in the last rays of the fast setting Bahamian sun. How alive they were! How free and ready to jump and flip and change directions. How "untaxed by forethought of grief."

Blue Runners

 Watching them, something of their natural essence was transmitted to me. I had the sudden feeling that their beauty was drawing me out of my mental quagmire. As the disquiet in my mind subsided, I thought about my grandparents and what they must have felt during the war "when the despair of world grew inside them" and they "feared for what their lives and the lives of their children might be."


  From reading my grandfather Walter von Sanden's diary, I know that near the end of the war, on January 22nd 1945, just before embarking on the great trek that would forever take him and my grandmother away from their beloved home in Guja, East Prussia,  he too awoke in the night and went down to the water.

My grandfather by the water
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  Standing at the edge of the lake with a heart full of grief, he listened for the sounds of nature—the rustle of dry leaves in the winter wind, the soft crunch of a rabbit's paws on the snowy path beneath the linden trees. Waiting for dawn, he watched the sun rise, its first rays touching the reeds that lined the shore. Beyond the far embankment, the snow blanketed fields of the estate stretched out before him. He swallowed hard, knowing he would never again stand in that familiar stillness on the land he so dearly loved.  

 Great Crested Grebe with her eggs—this photograph
was taken by my grandfather in Guja, East Prussia long before the war.
He was well-known for his photographs and books about nature.
The environment was his passion.
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  Nevertheless, he felt embraced by what he saw, empowered even—despite the dire worldly circumstances, enemy gunfire moving ever closer—by an intelligence greater than his own. Only nature could imbue him with this kind of strength. The stillness outside in the trees and the lake, in the rocks and the earth, made it possible for him to access the realm of stillness inside. From him I learned that when humans become still, truly still, they go beyond thought. This is nature's gift to mankind. In nature's solace, the great troublemaker of arising thoughts is quieted and we are returned to faith and God and the sacred mystery.

Guja, East Prussia
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  My grandfather was a naturalist.  He was fully present in the world of plants, birds, animals and other natural forms of beauty. I am grateful for this sacred understanding that was passed down through the generations, first to his daughter Owanta—my mother— and then on to me. It has helped me move through life's difficulties with a kind of deep-rooted trust drawn from another dimension, one that is not visible yet clearly exists in the peaceful dignity of a flower, the strength of a tree, the innocence of a bird. Furthermore, his wisdom helped me write The Last Daughter of  Prussia.

My mother Owanta Gisela von Sanden as a little girl in Guja
(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

  When he and my grandmother fled Guja that night, they looked up at the waxing moon and "the day-blind stars." For the last time, they closed the heavy oak door to their home, leaving behind all personal belongings, all objects of sentimental value. Taking just their bicycles, they set off on the dangerous journey. A flock of cranes was passing overhead. They pedaled on, carrying with them the thought of survival and knowing that like the birds, they were free "for a time" of all earthly attachments.

The house in Guja as they left it in winter

(C) Photo Gottlieb Property

Until next time...

–Marina Gottlieb Sarles

c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

What's in a Book Cover?

  What's in a cover?  A whole lot, I'd say, as in this day and age packaging is everything. The old adage, Don't judge a book by its cover, doesn't hold water anymore. No one reads a book before they make a buying decision. Once we pick up a book in a store or pull it from a shelf, we ALL judge it by it's cover. And only if that cover is compelling will it spark our interest and encourage us towards a purchase.

A book cover for my grandfather's book
"The Flying Gemstone" printed in the 1950's
Since then, covers have become one of the most important selling components.

  I'm writing about this today because for the past weeks I have been steeped in the process of finding the perfect cover for MY book—The Last Daughter of Prussia. With the finished manuscript in hand, I began to wonder what kind of cover would truly speak to the theme of a novel that encompasses so many subjects—war, history, love, loss, survival, horses, gypsies, nazis, aristocrats, East Prussia and mythical amber to name a few. I had no idea which way to go. How could I conceive a cover that would  portray my voice, my style and my message? I had tried a few things but nothing really grabbed me right in the heart.

This was a cover my friend Christine kindly worked up as an idea
quite some time ago before the novel was finished
However, we both knew that although it had elements of the story and it was catchy,
it wasn't quite right

  Feeling rather daunted, I turned to my talented friend, Paula Boyd Farrington—a human amalgamation of dynamic graphic artist and brilliant muse who knows The Last Daughter inside out and who shepherded my first book Sand In My Shoes into being.

This was rough draft of a cover that Paula worked up.
Again it had elements but it was too busy.
Still, I'm sharing it with you so you can see how the process starts the creative juices flowing.

  Dialoguing over cups of hot tea (which always ended up turning cold), we decided on several ideas. I was drawn to horses because they are powerful and represent the true heroes in the story—the Trakehners. Paula chose a woman wearing an amber amulet to represent the potent femininity of my heroine—Manya. Both of us felt the cover needed an appealing "snowy old-world feel" that included both struggle and hope. But how was this to be depicted without bringing in too much or too little?

Another very rough draft.
We loved this horse—the movement of the mane  but it didn't quite capture the themes in the book.
All the same we were getting closer..
And although we did't use this cover, I adore this horse.
 She reminds me so of Shambhala—Manya's Trakehner mare— also a Last Daughter of Prussia

  With images swirling in my head, I rose to make coffee (something I always do when I need inspiration) and then, with fresh steam rising from our mugs, we turned to making mockups. They weren't perfect of course, but each one held important elements of the written story. The next day, I sent our creations, along with the synopsis, to Tim Ogline—the savvy cover designer who works with my publisher. He wrote back immediately and asked if we could talk on the phone.
  "He thinks our ideas are crap," I mumbled to myself while anxiously dialing his number. But Tim didn't. In fact, he praised what I'd sent him saying it gave him direction. What he really wanted though was to hear how I felt about my book. Within seconds of hearing his calm, friendly voice, my anxiety was replaced with the overwhelming passion I have for this book and its living characters. And Tim got it.

  It didn't take long. During the next two weeks there were a number of e-mails from Tim in my inbox. Now, this is where I must honestly say that because of my emotional attachment to my book, the process, though madly exciting was equally unbearable. My heart would pound like crazy before I opened any of Tim's designs, my mind buzzing with thoughts like—Oh my God, no, this isn't it! That's not strong enough. What will we do? There's not enough snow to show the bitterness of winter and war, to...Oh my God, yes, I love this one! But wait a minute, we need a feminine aspect to represent The Last Daughter, like a woman's eyes compelling us to come closer. Where will we find those eyes? And the blue needs to be soft yet bright. And what about the horse? Is it the right color? Does it portray the intelligence and power of a Trakehner? So many questions, changes, fine tunings. And finally...Oh wow! They are all so fabulous! I don't know which one to choose?

My friend, brilliant muse and ever so supportive sister in kind, Paula Boyd Farrington.
There isn't a person in the community who hasn't been touched by her  generous heart
or helped in some way by her to usher in the creative goddess.

  Well, one thing I do know is that in all creative undertakings we need help. We need a matrix of friends to support us with honest input. We need thoughtful critique from people who know the business and can say this cover will stand out in your historical romantic fiction category's crowd. Luckily, I have no shortage of advisors. My editors, Joy Stocke and Kim Nagy of Wild River Books were right there to guide me, keep me calm and on course. Paula, seeing Tim's three gorgeous covers side by side, knew immediately which one would snag the reader's attention. My friend, Christine Matthäi willingly donated her beautifully haunting photograph of eyes which said it all. My twenty-two year old son, Nikolai, who is more into basketball than reading was very clear on what he thought would hold a reader's interest and I listened to him because he represents the average person who will spend 8 seconds looking at the front cover.

Nikolai my trusted advisor

  And now that cover has been chosen I must say I'm satisfied. I keep the image on my computer screen and look at it all the time as it represents the culmination of years of writing and hard work. I love it. Its more than I ever hoped for and like I said in my last post—I wish I could show it to you right now! But  I can't. Nevertheless, I promise you'll have a sneak preview before the book actually comes out in September.

 Until next time...

—Marina Gottlieb Sarles

As The New Year Draws Nigh

  Each year, at this time, I write a letter to the Universe. I call it my "Dear God" letter. In it I give thanks for all the gifts that have been bestowed upon me throughout the year. I write down my dreams, my goals and deepest longings. I love this yearly practice as it forces me to clarify what I'm grateful for and what I really want to manifest in my life, especially on the cornerstones of health, relationship, wealth, spiritual growth, creativity and leisure.

Gifts—each one a wish and expression of gratitude

  This year I am especially grateful to my family members, friends and editors who have supported me as an author and who are helping to bring The Last Daughter of Prussia to fruition. I am grateful to my publisher who will finally bind the many thousands of words I have written into a real book that can be held in readers' hands.

  The cover too, is coming together with the help of an amazing designer—Tim Ogline. It is going to be beautiful. I wish I could give you a sneak peek, but that would take away from the surprise when the novel comes out, so you'll just have to wait until September 2012. It'll be worth it though, I promise.

  As the new year draws close and I head out with thanks in my heart to snorkel in the sun-kissed, peaceful Bahamian waters, I have one huge and lasting wish for WORLD PEACE. I wish that all the children in the world can swim in the calm waters of life and not be afraid.

Peaceful waters
Photo courtesy of Christine Matthäi

Until next year...

A kiss to you and wishing you a healthy, prosperous New Year
in which your dreams find fulfillment.

—Marina Gottlieb Sarles

c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked,  and may not be used without permission.

(c) Privatbesitz Gottlieb Familie

Threads of Fate

  Two weeks ago, The Garden of the Groves in Grand Bahama hosted a book signing for local  Bahamian authors—I was invited for my previously published collection of Bahamian short stories, Sand In My Shoes. As I entered the luscious, green gardens, I passed by the photographic memorial erected in remembrance of Georgette and Wallace Groves who founded the garden some fifty years ago.

Wallace and Georgette Groves
(sorry about the glass reflection)

  I stopped to look at their pictures, touched to see Georgette's name. Most people don't know that my name is Marina Georgette. I was named after Georgette Groves whose husband Wallace was the founder of Freeport and who brought my parents to this island in 1948.

Waterfalls in The Garden of the Groves

  As I walked past the meditative labyrinth that graces the garden grounds, I thought about the invisible threads of fate that bind people and draw them to unknown paths. How interesting that one choice made in a fork along life's road can so wholly alter people's destiny. That's how it was with my parents, Ejnar and Owanta Gottlieb. Both of them made choices after losing their homes in World War 2. My father's house was bombed to bits during the Dresden air raid, while my mother's estate in East Prussia was taken over by the Russians. With everything cherished gone, both of them knew they did not want to stay in Germany and re-build their lives on the ashes of genocide and destruction. Theirs is a long story full of hardship, adventure and love (beautifully recounted in my mother's autobiography Angel Stand By Me). But, suffice it to say that they chose to escape Germany by daring to swim across a turbulent and fast moving part of the Rhine River—past shooting guards and police—into Switzerland where they hid in cornfields until they could finally make their way to my grandmother's house in Zurich.

My parents (1946) on their wedding day before they swam the Rhine.
Love makes people strong and courageous.

  Once there, my father, a medical doctor who spoke Swiss German, was able to get a job in a mental asylum while my mother who did not speak Swiss, cleaned the floors, and kept her mouth shut so that the people would not hear her high German accent and hate her because of it. They were both unhappy and wanted to get away. Filling out one application after another they hoped for a job in Australia, Africa or the Philippines, but no one wanted Germans. To the world they were all Nazis. Finally however, a position in a mission hospital in the Philippines opened up. Leaving their work at the mental asylum my parents prepared to emigrate, but their hopes were soon dashed when the Philippine president suddenly died and all work permits for foreign university graduates were cancelled.

   Depressed, unemployed and broke, their emotional barometers fell to the lowest of lows. My father though, always had a strong optimistic vein. As he still had a few francs in his pocket he decided to spend them on a hot cup of coffee rather than sit around and feel sorry for their circumstances.

   Unaware that the threads of fate were drawing him to the the coffee shop, he set off. In the street, he bumped into an old friend, a successful businesswoman who owned a paper factory and who seemed to be acquainted with the whole world. The woman presumed that my father was already in the Philippines and surprised to see him so down, she asked him what was going on. He told her briefly of his plight and then waving goodbye, he jokingly said, "If you happen to meet a millionaire who needs a personal doctor, please let me know."
  The next day the friend called.
  "Listen," she said. "Last night I was at a banquet for international paper manufacturers. I sat next to a man who is looking for a young doctor to work for an American industrialist. The doctor would have to look after some 800 lumberjacks and their families in a settlement called Pine Ridge on Grand Bahama Island in the Bahamas. Would that be something for you?"

The lumber camp in Pine Ridge, Grand Bahama in the 1940's.

  That industrialist was Wallace Groves, (his wife being Georgette—my namesake) and his was the lumber camp that needed a doctor. The rest is history, but what I want to say here is that in a single moment my parents' lives changed. So did the lives of their children, (their son Cay, who was already born, and their unborn children Frederik and me).

  As I sit here now in the Bahamas by my window looking over the glittering turquoise ocean, I realize that I could just as well be sitting somewhere in Europe looking at the glittering snow. Questions arise in me. Are our lives guided? How much does fate play a part? How is it that the smallest choice to go have a cup of coffee can lead to a totally unknown path and a new world?

In the garden beside the Groves' memorial.

  As an author I have the privilege of writing about fate and its consequences. In my soon-to-be published novel The Last Daughter of Prussia I explore the choices that characters make during a time of war when survival is all that matters. Glimpsing inside their hearts I am able to glean whether they have the faith to sustain themselves in the face of omnipresent terror—a face that looks upon both cowards and heroes and has the power to reverse roles.
  I think about the coming year, 2012. I wonder what choices will I make? How they will shape my destiny? And sipping my coffee I wonder—where will the threads of fate lead me?

Wishing you all clarity in your choices this year and good luck and faith on your unknown paths.

Until next time...

—Marina Gottlieb Sarles