“Czechs had the right to be angry at that time. There is a lot of injustice happening in the world, we know that. We need to understand what can be understood. I know that when there is some injustice done, it brings forth another injustice. If Germans acted badly, nobody can expect that they would then be treated kindly and with courtesy. Unfortunately, the world is like this, but people need to be aware of this and defend themselves however they can.”
“We obviously knew about the concentration camps. Germans claimed that they didn’t know about them. I don’t know to what extent it was possible not to know. What I also don’t understand is when some Czechs claimed that they didn’t know about the prisons in Mírov or Leopoldov. There are some things that people do not want to know about, but this is not to be tolerated, because people are obliged to know.”
“I was really to be expelled from Charles University. People in Humpolec even claimed that it had already happened, they even felt sorry for me already. I was terribly unhappy, but before leaving at least I wanted to go to the lecture of professor Krejčí for the last time. I was sitting next to Mařenka Strádalová, the name probably does not tell you anything, but at that time there was a group of people at the faculty centered around Jaroslav Kohout and Jasněna Rónová, who were a right-inclined social democracy. I was sitting next to Mařenka and she saw how unhappy I was and asked me what was wrong. I told her that I was to be expelled from the faculty. Her mom was working in the Slavic Institute. She told me: ´Look, they will not do anything to me yet, but Karel Krejčí had told my mom that if I ever needed anything, I should ask him.´ The poor girl later got imprisoned. Karel Krejčí was still an influential person to a certain extent. Mařenka made me go with her to the first floor and she knocked on the door of Krejčí’s office. I mumbled that I was to be expelled from the faculty. He told me to keep preparing for my exams. He was kind to me, although I haven’t even known him personally.”
“One day, the Ministry of Education discovered that in Olomouc, where I was teaching Polish literature, the number of lecturers somewhat exceeded the number of students. They found out about it ten years later, well, it did take them some time. They declared that this was no longer permissible and ordered half of the lecturers to be dismissed. It made sense, there was no evil intent in it. But still, the consequences for me were bad. There were five of us. The Polish lecturer had to stay there. The dean said: ´Half of the Czech lecturers, that means two people. Perhaps it would be possible to save one, but one still has to leave.´ And there was I, who was a woman, a nonpartisan and inconvenient, because I did quite a lot of publishing activity. I am convinced that if one wants to achieve something, one has to do something, to write and publish. So it was me who was to be dismissed. If they had been at least a bit honest, they could have told me that there was simply no place for me and that I would be able to earn my living elsewhere, which was true, because I was also a translator, and they could have at least given me a good reference and just let me go. I would have accepted that.”
“I could not fit in among the rich. They were the typical ´golden kids,´ precisely the type that Škvorecký or Klíma write about. They exaggerate it, it was not so bad, but still, these ´golden kids´ were there. And it was people like them who looking down on me because the stockings I wore were mended. On the other hand, I didn’t fit in among the children of lower officials, either, because I still kept trying to get somewhere else. That’s why I didn’t feel well in Humpolec.”
Hana Voisine-Jechová was born on 19 April 1927 in Humpolec. At the end of the war, her father was arrested and deported to Terezín, where he died. She graduated from the Faculty of Arts of Charles University (FF UK), majoring in Czech, French and Slavonic studies. In 1948 she married Vladimír Jech, a lieutenant in the Czechoslovak army. After completing her master’s degree in 1950, she first worked at the State Pedagogical Publishing House in Prague. From 1955 to 1969 she lectured in Polish literature at Palacký University in Olomouc. At that time, she also began translating from Polish and worked on her doctorate. Between 1965 and 1968, she was repeatedly contacted by State Security (StB), which wanted her to cooperate because of her contacts in the literary world and abroad. A part of her file No. 623569 has been preserved in the Security Forces Archive, according to which she was registered first as a candidate for secret cooperation, then as an informant under the code name Hana, and later, after the cooperation was terminated, as a confidante. Since 1969 she resided in France for work. She took advantage of the fact that she was invited to the Sorbonne to lecture on comparative literature. In 1972, she received her Ph.D. there. At the insistence of her family, who remained in Czechoslovakia, she returned to her homeland in the autumn of 1973. This was followed by an existentially difficult period when both she and her husband were without work. Three years later, the witness went to France for the second time. She divorced her husband and her mother had to go with her - this was the condition of the Czechoslovak authorities. She began to lecture in comparative literature and Bohemistics in Tours and at the Sorbonne. Her greatest achievement was the establishment of the Department of Bohemian Studies as an independent discipline at the Sorbonne in 1982. In 1984 she married for the second time to Professor Jacques Voisine. She was a fellow of the International Society for Comparative Literature and other research centres in France, Poland and the Czech Republic. She died on 21 June 2020.
