Translator Kateryna Matviichuk Talks About Her Three Months in Residence and Her Love for Slovak

For the first time, a translator joined us as part of the residency program. Kateryna came from Ukraine with the goal of translating a Slovak book into her native language. What fascinates her about Slovak, what she enjoys about it, and how she tackled Slovak literature are all revealed in this interview.

Katka, why did you choose Slovak out of all the languages in the world?
In Ukraine, we have a different educational system than in Slovakia. We finish high school at 16 and then have to make one of the most important decisions of our lives—choosing a major and field of study at university. At 16, I didn’t understand myself or the world very well, so I based my decision on one key priority—I loved reading, so my chosen field had to involve literature.

I was intrigued by the Slavic philology program because it offered the opportunity to study various Slavic languages alongside literature. It seemed like a good combination — interesting, practical, and useful. From a rich selection of languages, I chose Croatian and Slovak — they attracted me with their Balkan charm and… exoticism (laughs). Yes, believe it or not, neighboring Slovakia seemed exotic at the time because people were surprised and even puzzled by my choice: They teach this language here? And someone studies it? Why? What will you do with it?

But it turned out to be the right choice. I enjoyed studying the similarities and differences between Slavic languages, observing patterns of their development, and their mutual influences. After student exchanges in Croatia and later in Slovakia, I was very satisfied with my choice.

What do you enjoy most about Slovak, and what do you find the hardest?
This might sound strange, but I loved studying Slovak grammar and then constructing sentences like puzzles — word by word, sometimes comparing with constructions in Ukrainian or Croatian. It’s very satisfying to me.

My first challenge was mastering the accent. Since I started studying from textbooks and audio materials, I only realized during my student exchange in Prešov that Slovak isn’t spoken that way, and I had to retrain myself.

Another difficulty was understanding reflexive verbs. I had to accept that phrases like pomáhať si (to help each other) and kúpiť si (to buy for oneself) follow different logic. But now, reflexive verbs are one of my favorite topics, and I enjoy explaining them to others — it makes me feel like I possess rare knowledge that I can pass on.

Now, I’m more concerned about nuances in colloquial speech, dialects, phrases, and cultural context. I’ve attended stand-up performances in Slovakia twice. The first time, I understood everything and laughed along with the audience, but the second time was a disaster. Not because of the comedians, as the audience laughed heartily, but because I didn’t understand the jokes or often even the words. The tension gave me a headache, and I had to leave.

When did you start translating?
I began as a student. In 2013–2014, Croatian journalists visited Ukraine to make a documentary about the Revolution of Dignity (Euromaidan) and later about the start of the war. I traveled with them to border towns and helped with translation.

That same year, I attended a Belarusian alternative and rock music festival, Basowiszcza, in Poland. There, I learned it would be impossible to organize a similar festival in Belarus due to censorship and cultural and linguistic oppression. I discovered that Belarus was undergoing extreme suppression of the Belarusian language in education, media, healthcare, and other spheres — threatening its very survival. Motivated by this, I translated several Belarusian books into Ukrainian to support the language.

One book, The Language by Viktor Martinovich, was especially relevant as it’s a dystopia centered around a banned language, distributed illegally like a drug. Another was a philosophical novel, Marginalis, by Kirill Stasevich. I recall that during editing, I realized I had mistranslated nearly all the names in the text.

How do Ukrainians perceive Slovak?
Previously, reactions were mostly surprise — Why Slovak? — followed by questions like, Is it easy? Is it very similar to Czech? Since the outbreak of war, things have changed. People now say, Oh, you must be busy teaching Slovak. And it’s true — many Ukrainians have found refuge and a peaceful life in Slovakia. Now, people understand the importance of this language for our people and country.

Does Slovak have much in common with Ukrainian?
Both languages belong to the Slavic language family, though Slovak is part of the West Slavic group, while Ukrainian belongs to the East Slavic group. This means that many basic words share the same origins, and overall, lexical similarities between the two languages range from about 40% to 60%.

However, despite their shared roots, many words have changed over time due to influences from other languages. For example, Slovak has borrowed extensively from Hungarian, while Ukrainian has borrowed from Polish, Russian, and even Turkish.

Both languages share a similar grammatical structure, including noun, adjective, and verb declension. For instance, they both have gender distinctions (masculine, feminine, neuter) and grammatical number.

What is the hardest part of Slovak for you?
Speaking like a native Slovak rather than like a textbook. This requires constant interaction with Slovaks to learn all the nuances, slang, and cultural context. Watching videos or films can never replace live communication.

What was your goal during your residency in Malý Berlín?
My goal was to immerse myself in contemporary Slovak literature, read as much as possible, and select works that would interest me and appeal to Ukrainian readers. During my residency, I translated several stories from Dominika Moravčíková’s collection Dom pre jeleňa (A House for a Deer). I also spoke with the author, sought her advice, and learned more about the translator-writer collaboration.

So I accomplished everything I had planned, and I’m very happy about it.

How did you find out about this residency?

A friend told me about it and mentioned that I could still apply. At first, I was hesitant and confused because it had been a long-standing dream of mine to create an anthology of contemporary Slovak literature. However, with the start of the war, I had forgotten about all my past wishes, so this opportunity felt like a wonderful surprise and a reminder from my past.

How did you choose the texts you translated during the residency?

My goal was to create an anthology of contemporary Slovak short stories. Several criteria played a role in the selection process. It was important for me to translate works that resonated with Slovak readers, that were appreciated by both book enthusiasts and literary professionals, and that I found personally interesting.

I started by exploring works by four authors, but it was the fifth, Dominika Moravčíková, who really captivated me. That’s how I began translating her stories from Dom pre jeleňa. Since I aim to publish these translations in Ukraine, I also analyze what would resonate and appeal to Ukrainian readers.

My curator, Anna Siedykh, gave me a lecture on contemporary Slovak literature, which provided me with an overview and a list of authors and works to focus on.

Thanks to the residency, I also had the chance to meet publisher Koloman Kertész Bagala, who I think understands contemporary Slovak short stories better than anyone else. His recommendations and advice were invaluable.

How did you adapt to living in the center of Trnava?

That, too, was a long-time dream—living in the center of a beautiful, quiet European town, overlooking a peaceful courtyard that tourists occasionally visit. My mornings started with me sticking my head out of the attic window to look at the tops of plane trees and the city tower. I did the same before going to bed—it became a three-month tradition.

My phone is now filled with dozens of photos of that view in different weather and lighting. On Fridays or Saturdays, I’d visit the city market near where I lived, and I’d enjoy a walnut croissant right there.

The Nádvorie space is very inspiring—it makes you want to work, create, and come up with new ideas. The change of environment had a very positive impact on my productivity.

What did this residency give you?

It provided ideal conditions for studying literature. With access to libraries, I read a lot of Slovak works and could finally focus on translating. I also improved my Slovak by attending literary events in Trnava and Bratislava, where I had the opportunity to hear authors speak and meet them personally.

I also met Slovak publishers. I was pleasantly surprised by how many Ukrainian books are now being translated into Slovak—I keep seeing new releases in bookstores and hearing about public presentations. I want to ensure this exchange isn’t one-sided, which is why I’m eager to finish the anthology so it can find its place on the shelves of Ukrainian bookstores.

Will you return to Trnava someday?

Yes, I’d love to. This experience was truly unique for me.

What did you like most about Malý Berlín?

I loved observing the dynamic energy of the center, where something happens every day and the space attracts a diverse crowd. I saw teenagers jumping and shouting during rap performances, children creating their own animations, literature enthusiasts at the Ypsalon festival, and townspeople enjoying theater performances.

Organizing such a varied and vibrant program must be a challenging job, but it’s clear that everyone at Malý Berlín knows their role well.

Ján Janočko

Photo: Lívia Martvoňová