by poets, lauded by bards, revered by the cognoscenti, Château Novak, a
sun-kissed architectural jewel precariously perched on the verdant
slopes overlooking the slothful Berounka, demurely awaits you. Higher
than the ancient and austere fort of Křivoklat, lower than the Cool
Bohemia icon that is Velka Bukovas' sleek observation tower, Château
Novak is a pearl whose fragrant, multicoloured garden is the delicious
oyster - come, tease it delicately open, and discover nacred treasures.
So it's like this, Guv: When the commies turned the local farms into
one huge, polluting, hideous, inefficient collective unit (a kind of continental, agricultural NHS), they soon
discovered that dispossessed farmers-turned-collective-farm employees
enthusiasm for applied marxism, and thus had to build, from 1972 to
1977, Château Novak, ie a solid concrete box in your best Czech commie
(then ODS, presently ANO) style - complete with the afferent charm- this in order to
house the screws tasked (!) with dissuading the said ex-farmers from expressing
their antisocial opinions.
It's a lovely building, an ode to budget-free concrete and to that
social-realist lightness and subtility which makes the post-WWII Czech
elite so endearing, whatever their political colour du jour, be it
enthusiastic Nazi collaborator, faithful and brotherly Commie,
pointy-booted ODS, or todays' ANO (ex-StB, the local KGB, minus a
spine). And it's the building that my (very) dear
wife, the Marchiesa, née Novak (the Czech "Smith" or "Brown"), decided
to invest her uxorial savings into. Hence Château Novak. Come on in, y'all.