THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK E-Book

Anne Frank

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 443

Beschreibung

In 1940, after Germany invaded the Netherlands, Anne and her family couldn't leave the country, so they decided to hide in a warehouse in an attempt to escape the persecution of Jews by the Nazis. For over two years, Anne wrote in her diary with an awareness that was extremely mature for her age. She detailed her experiences and insights while she and her family were in hiding, living in a constant fear of being arrested. THE DIARY OF Anne Frank' is a record of her understanding of the war and showcases her incredible storytelling abilities in such horrific circumstances. In 1944, the Franks were found and sent to concentration camps. Anne died before she turned 16, and her father, Otto Frank, was the only family member to survive the Holocaust. After the War, Otto returned to Amsterdam, where he found his daughter's diary and then published i as The Diary of a Young Girl. THE DIARY OF Anne Frank is among the most enduring documents of the twentieth century. Since its publication in 1947, it has been read by tens of millions of peopleall over the world. It remains a beloved and deeply admired testament to the indestructible nature of the human spirit.

Leseprobe

Anne Frank

THE DAIRY OF

ANNE FRANK

Final Edition

Foreword

In 1940, after Germany invaded the Netherlands, Anne and her family could not leave the country, so they decided to hide in a warehouse to escape the persecution of Jews by the Nazis. For over two years, Anne wrote in her diary with an awareness that was extremely mature for her age. She detailed her experiences and insights while she and her family were in hiding, living in a constant fear of being arrested. Anne Frank’s diary is a record of her understanding of the war and showcases her incredible storytelling abilities in such horrific circumstances.

In 1944, the Franks were found and sent to concentration camps. Anne died before she turned 16, and her father, Otto Frank, was the only family member to survive the Holocaust. After the War, Otto returned to Amsterdam, where he found his daughter’s diary and later published it as The Diary of a Young Girl.

Anne Frank's Diary is just a small part of World War II history. But reading it can open our minds to the enormous errors and crimes committed by the Nazism against human beings. Anne Frank's Diary is a book that undoubtedly deserves to be read.

LeBooks Edition

Summary

INTRODUCTION

THE DIARY

Sunday, 14 June, 1942

Monday, 15 June, 1942

Saturday, 20 June, 1942

Saturday, 20 June, 1942

Sunday, 2I June, 1942

Wednesday, 24 June, 1942

Tuesday, 30 June, 1942

Friday, 3 July, 1942

Sunday morning, 5 July, 1942

Wednesday, 8 July, 1942

Thursday, 9 July, 1942

Friday, 10 July, 1942

Saturday, 1I July, 1942

Friday, 14 August, 1942

Friday, 2I August, 1942

Wednesday, 2 September, 1942

Monday, 2I September, 1942

Friday, 25 September, 1942

Sunday, 27 September, 1942

Monday, 28 September, 1942

Tuesday, 29 September, 1942

Thursday, I October, 1942

Saturday, 3 October, 1942

Friday, 9 October, 1942

Friday, 16 October, 1942

Tuesday, 20 October, 1942

Thursday, 29 October, 1942

Saturday, 7 November, 1942

Monday, 9 November, 1942

Tuesday, 10 November, 1942

Thursday, 12 November, 1942

Tuesday, 17 November, 1942

Thursday, 19 November, 1942

Friday, 20 November, 1942

Saturday, 28 November, 1942

Monday, 7 December, 1942

Thursday, 10 December, 1942

Sunday, 13 December, 1942

Tuesday, 22 December, 1942

Wednesday, 13 January, 1943

Saturday, 30 January, 1943

Friday, 5 February, 1943

Saturday, 27 February, 1943

Wednesday, 10 March, 1943

Friday, 12 March, 1943

Thursday, 18 March, 1943

Friday, 19 March, 1943

Thursday, 25 March, 1943

Saturday, 27 March, 1943

Thursday, I April, 1943

Friday, 2 April, 1943

Tuesday, 27 April, 1943

Saturday, I May, 1943

Tuesday, 18 May, 1943

Sunday, 13 June, 1943

Tuesday, 15 June, 1943

Sunday, 1I July, 1943

Tuesday, 13 July, 1943

Friday, 16 July, 194 3 ;

Monday, 19 July, 1943

Friday, 23 July, I 943

Monday, 26 July, 1943

Thursday, 29 July, 1943

Tuesday, 3 August, 1943

Wednesday, 4 August, 1943

Thursday, 5 August, 1943

Monday, 9 August, 1943

Tuesday, 10 August, 1943

Wednesday, 18 August, 1943

Friday, 20 August, 1943

Monday, 23 August, 1943

Friday, 10 September, 1943

Thursday, 16 September, 1943

Wednesday, 29 September, 1943

Sunday, 17 October, 1943

Friday, 29 October, 1943

Wednesday, 3 November, 1943

Monday evening, 8 November, 1943

Thursday, 11 November, 1943

Wednesday, 17 November, 1943

Saturday, 27 November 1943

Monday, 6 December, 1943

Wednesday, 22 December, 1943

Friday, 24 December, 1943

Saturday, 25 December, 1943

Friday, 26 December, 1943

Monday, 27 December, 1943

Wednesday, 29 December, 1943

Sunday, 2 January, 1944

Wednesday, 5 January, 1944

Thursday, 6 January, 1944

Friday, 7 January, 1944

Wednesday, 12 January, 1944

Saturday, 15 January, 1944

Saturday, 22 January, 1944

Monday, 24 January, 1944

Friday, 28 January, 1944

Thursday, 3 February, 1944

Saturday, 12 February, 1944

Sunday, 13 February, 1944

Monday, 14 February, 1944

Wednesday, 16 February, 1944

Friday, 18 February, 1944

Saturday, 19 February, 1944

Wednesday, 23 February, 1944

Sunday, 27 February, 1944

Monday, 28 February, 1944

Wednesday, I March, 1944

Thursday, 2 March, 1944

Friday, 3 March, 1944

Saturday, 4 March, 1944

Monday, 6 March, 1944

Tuesday, 7 March, 1944

Sunday, 12 March, 1944

Tuesday, 14 March, 1944

Wednesday, 15 March, 1944

Thursday, 16 March, 1944

Friday, 17 March, 1944

Sunday, 19 March, 1944

Monday, 20 March, 1944

MARCH 20th, 1944

Wednesday, 22 March, 1944

Thursday, 23 March, 1944

Monday, 27 March, 1944

Tuesday, 28 March, 1944

Wednesday, 29 March, 1944

Friday, 3I March, 1944

Saturday, I April, 1944

Monday, 3 April, 1944

Tuesday, 4 April, 1944

Thursday, 6 April, 1944

Tuesday, 11 April, 1944

Friday, 14 April, 1944

Saturday, 15 April, 1944

Sunday morning, just before eleven o'clock, 16 April, 1944

Monday, 17 April, 1944

Tuesday, 18 April, 1944

Wednesday, April 19, 1944

Friday, April 21,1944

Tuesday, April 25, 1944

Thursday, April 27, 1944

Friday, 28 April 1944

Tuesday, 2 May, 1944

Wednesday, 3 May, 1944

Friday, 5 May, 1944

Saturday, 6 May, 1944

Sunday morning, 7 May, 1944

Monday, 8 May, 1944

Tuesday, 9 May, 1944

Wednesday, 10 May, 1944

Thursday, I I May, 1944

Saturday, 13 May, 1944

Tuesday, 16 May, 1944

Friday, I 9 May, 1944

Saturday, 20 May, 1944

Monday, 22 May, 1944

Thursday, 25 May, 1944

Friday, 26 May, 1944

Wednesday, 3I May, 1944

Monday, 5 June, 1944

Tuesday, 6 June, 1944

Friday, 9 June, 1944

Tuesday, 13 June, 1944

Wednesday, 14 June, 1944

Thursday, 15 June, 1944

Friday, 16 June, 1944

Friday, 23 June, 1944

Tuesday, 27 June, 1944

Friday, 30 June, 1944

Thursday, 6 July, 1944

Saturday, 8 July, 1944

Saturday, 15 July, 1944

Friday, 2 I July, 1944

Tuesday, I August, 1944

Afterword: Historical Context

When I write, I feel relief, my pain disappears, the courage returns. But I wonder: will I ever write anything of importance? Will I become a journalist or writer? I hope so, I hope with all my heart! By writing I can clarify everything, my thoughts, my ideals, my fantasies.

INTRODUCTION

The Diary of a Young Girl, also known as The Diary of Anne Frank, is a journal by Anne Frank, a Jewish teenager who chronicled her family’s two years (1942-44) in hiding during the German occupation of the Netherlands during World War II.

The book was first published in 1947, two years after Anne’s death in a concentration camp, and later became a classic of war literature.

Anne Frank, 6, at school in Amsterdam in 1940

Background

In 1933 Anne’s family—her father, Otto; her mother, Edith; and her older sister, Margot—moved to Amsterdam from Germany following the rise of Adolf Hitler. In 1940 the Netherlands was invaded by Germany, which began to enact various anti-Jewish measures, one of which required Anne and her sister to enroll in an all-Jewish school the following year.

On June 12, 1942, Anne received a red-and-white plaid diary for her 13th birthday. That day she began writing in the book: “I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.” The following month Margot received an order to report to a labor camp. Facing arrest if she did not comply, the family went into hiding on July 6, 1942, moving into a “secret annex” at Otto’s business in Amsterdam, the entrance to which was soon hidden behind a moveable bookcase. The Franks were later joined by four other Jews—Hermann and Auguste van Pels and their son, Peter, and Fritz Pfeffer—and were aided by several friends, including Miep Gies, who brought food and other supplies.

Life in hiding and capture.

Over the next two years, Anne wrote faithfully in the diary, which she came to consider a friend, addressing many of the entries to “Dear Kitty.” In the journal and later notebooks, Anne recounted the day-to-day life within the annex. The close quarters and sparse supplies led to various arguments among the inhabitants, and the outgoing Anne came to find the conditions stifling. Heightening tensions was the ever-present concern that they would be discovered. However, many entries involve typical adolescent issues—jealousy toward her sister; annoyance with others, especially her mother; and an increasing sexual awareness. Anne wrote candidly about her developing body, and she experienced a brief romance with Peter van Pels. She also discussed her hopes for the future, which included becoming a journalist or a writer. In addition to the diary, Anne penned several short stories and compiled a list of “beautiful sentences” from other works.

After learning of plans to collect diaries and other papers to chronicle people’s wartime experiences, Anne began to rework her journal for possible publication as a novel entitled Het Achterhuis (“The Secret Annex”). She notably created pseudonyms for all the inhabitants, eventually adopting Anne Robin as her alias. Pfeffer—whom Anne had come to dislike as the two often argued over the use of a desk—was named Albert Dussel, the surname of which is German for “idiot.”

Anne’s last diary entry was written on August 1, 1944. Three days later the secret annex was discovered by the Gestapo, which had received a tip from Dutch informers. All of the inhabitants were taken into custody. In September the Frank family arrived at Auschwitz, though Anne and Margot were transferred to Bergen-Belsen the following month. In 1945 Anne as well as her mother and sister died.

Diary: compilation and publication

Of the eight people in the secret annex, only Otto Frank survived the war. He subsequently returned to Amsterdam, where Gies gave him various documents she had saved from the annex. Among the papers was Anne’s diary, though some of the notebooks were missing, notably most of those from 1943. To fulfill Anne’s dream of publication, Otto began sorting through her writings. The original red-and-white checkered journal became known as the “A” version, while her revised entries, written on loose sheets of paper, were known as the “B” version. The diary that Otto ultimately compiled was the “C” version, which omitted approximately 30 percent of her entries. Much of the excluded text was sexual-related or concerned Anne’s difficulties with her mother.

After Otto was unable to find a publisher, the work was given to historian Jan Romein, who was so impressed that he wrote about the diary in a front-page article for the newspaper Het Parool in 1946. The resulting attention led to a publishing deal with Contact, and Het Achterhuis was released on June 25, 1947. An immediate best seller in the Netherlands, the work began to appear elsewhere. In 1952 the first American edition was published under the title Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl; it included an introduction by Eleanor Roosevelt. The work was eventually translated into more than 65 languages, and it was later adapted for the stage and screen. All proceeds went to a foundation established in Anne’s honor. In 1995.

Written with insight, some humor, and intelligence, the Diary became a classic of war literature, personalizing the Holocaust and offering a moving coming-of-age story. To many, the book was also a source of inspiration and hope. During such adversity, Anne poignantly wrote, “I still believe, despite everything, that people are really good at heart.”

Characters list

Anne Frank - The author of the diary. Anne was born on June 12, 1929, in Frankfurt, Germany, and was four years old when her father moved to Holland to find a better place for the family to live. She is very intelligent and perceptive, and she wants to become a writer. Anne grows from an innocent, tempestuous, precocious, and somewhat petty teenage girl to an empathetic and sensitive thinker at age fifteen. Anne dies of typhus in the concentration camp at Bergen-Belsen in late February or early March of 1945.

Margot Frank - Anne’s older sister. Margot was born in Frankfurt in 1926. She receives little attention in Anne’s diary, and Anne does not provide a real sense of Margot’s character. Anne thinks that Margot is pretty, smart, emotional, and everyone’s favorite. However, Anne and Margot do not form a close bond, and Margot mainly appears in the diary when she is the cause of jealousy or anger. She dies of typhus in the concentration camp a few days before Anne does.

Otto Frank - Anne’s father. Otto is practical and kind, and Anne feels a particular kinship to him. He was born on May 12, 1889, into a wealthy Frankfurt family, but the family’s international-banking business collapsed during the German economic depression that followed World War I. After the Nazis came to power in Germany, Otto moved to Amsterdam in 1933 to protect his family from persecution. There he made a living selling chemical products and provisions until the family was forced into hiding in 1942. Otto is the only member of the family to survive the war, and he lives until 1980.

Edith Frank - Anne’s mother. Edith Hollander was originally from Aachen, Germany, and she married Otto in 1925. Anne feels little closeness or sympathy with her mother, and the two have a very tumultuous relationship. Anne thinks her mother is too sentimental and critical. Edith dies of hunger and exhaustion in the concentration camp at Auschwitz in January 1945.

Mr. van Daan - The father of the family that hides in the annex along with the Franks and who had worked with Otto Frank as an herbal specialist in Amsterdam. Mr. van Daan’s actual name is Hermann van Pels, but Anne calls him Mr. van Daan in the diary. According to Anne, he is intelligent, opinionated, pragmatic, and somewhat egotistical. Mr. van Daan is temperamental, speaks his mind openly, and is not afraid to cause friction, especially with his wife, with whom he fights frequently and openly. He dies in the gas chambers at Auschwitz in October or November of 1944.

Mrs. van Daan - Mr. van Daan’s wife. Her actual name is Auguste van Pels, but Anne calls her Petronella van Daan in her diary. Anne initially describes Mrs. van Daan as a friendly, teasing woman, but later calls her an instigator. She is a fatalist and can be petty, egotistical, flirtatious, stingy, and disagreeable. Mrs. van Daan frequently complains about the family’s situation—criticism that Anne does not admire or respect. Mrs. van Daan does not survive the war, but the exact date of her death is unknown.

Peter van Daan - The teenage son of the van Daans, whose real name is Peter van Pels. Anne first sees Peter as obnoxious, lazy, and hypersensitive, but later they become close friends. Peter is quiet, timid, honest, and sweet to Anne, but he does not share her strong convictions. During their time in the annex, Anne and Peter develop a romantic attraction, which Mr. Frank discourages. Peter is Anne’s first kiss, and he is her one confidant and source of affection and attention in the annex. Peter dies on May 5, 1945, at the concentration camp at Mauthausen, only three days before the camp was liberated.

Albert Dussel - A dentist and an acquaintance of the Franks who hides with them in the annex. His real name is Fritz Pfeffer, but Anne calls him Mr. Dussel in the diary. Anne finds Mr. Dussel particularly difficult to deal with because he shares a room with her, and she suffers the brunt of his odd personal hygiene habits, pedantic lectures, and controlling tendencies. Mr. Dussel’s wife is a Christian, so she does not go into hiding, and he is separated from her. He dies on December 20, 1944, at the Neuengamme concentration camp.

Mr. Kugler - A man who helps hide the Franks in the annex. Victor Kugler is arrested along with Kleiman in 1944 but escapes in 1945. He immigrates to Canada in 1955 and dies in Toronto in 1981. Mr. Kugler is also referred to as Mr. Kraler.

Mr. Kleiman - Another man who helps the Franks hide. Johannes Kleiman is arrested in 1944 but released because of poor health. He remains in Amsterdam until his death in 1959. Mr. Kleiman is also referred to as Mr. Koophuis.

Bep Voskuijl - A worker in Otto Frank’s office. Elizabeth (Bep) Voskuijl helps the family by serving as a liaison to the outside world. She remains in Amsterdam until her death in 1983.

Mr. Voskuijl - Bep’s father.

Miep Gies - A secretary at Otto’s office who helps the Franks hide. After the Franks are arrested, she stows the diary away in a desk drawer and keeps it there, unread, until Otto’s return in 1945. She died in 2010 at the age of 100.

Jan Gies - Miep’s husband. He dies in 1993.

Hanneli - Anne’s school friend. The Nazis arrest her early in the war.

Peter Schiff - The love of Anne’s life from the sixth grade. Peter Schiff is a boy one year older than Anne. She has dreams about him while in the annex. Peter Schiff is also referred to as Peter Wessel.

Hello Silberberg - A boy with whom Anne has an innocent, though romantic relationship before she goes into hiding. Hello is also referred to as Harry Goldberg.

THE DIARY

Sunday, 14 June, 1942

On Friday, June 12th, I woke up at six o'clock and no wonder, it was my birthday. But of course, I was not allowed to get up at that hour, so I had to control my curiosity until a quarter to seven. Then I could bear it no longer, and went to the dining room, where I received a warm welcome from Moortje (the cat).

Soon after seven I went to Mummy and Daddy and then to the sitting room to undo my presents. The first to greet me was you, possibly the nicest of all. Then on the table there were a bunch of roses, a plant, and some peonies, and more arrived during the day.

I got masses of things from Mummy and Daddy and was thoroughly spoiled by various friends. Among other things I was given Camera Obscura, a party game, lots of sweets, chocolates, a puzzle, a brooch, Tales and Legends of the Netherlands by Joseph Cohen, Daisy's Mountain Holiday (a terrific book), and some money. Now I can buy The Myths of Greece and Rome—grand!

Then Lies called for me and we went to school. During recess I treated everyone to sweet biscuits, and then we had to go back to our lessons.

Now I must stop. Bye-bye, we're going to be great pals!

Monday, 15 June, 1942

I had my birthday party on Sunday afternoon. We showed a film The Lighthouse Keeper with Rin-Tin-Tin, which my school friends thoroughly enjoyed. We had a lovely time. There were lots of girls and boys. Mummy always wants to know whom I'm going to marry. Little does she guess that it's Peter Wessel, one day I managed, without blushing or flickering an eyelid, to get that idea right out of her mind.

For years Lies Goosens and Sanne Houtman have been my best friends. Since then, I've got to know Jopie de Waal at the Jewish Secondary School. We are together a lot and she is now my best girlfriend. Lies is more friendly with another girl, and Sanne goes to a different school, where she has made new friends.

Saturday, 20 June, 1942

I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first to think about my diary. It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary, not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I—nor for that matter anyone else —will be interested in the unbosoming’s of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

There is a saying that "paper is more patient than man", it came back to me on one of my slightly melancholy days, while I sat chin in hand, feeling too bored and limp even to make up my mind whether to go out or stay at home. Yes, there is no doubt that paper is patient and as I don't intend to show this cardboard-covered notebook, bearing the proud name of "diary," to anyone, unless I find a real friend, boy or girl, probably nobody cares. And now I come to the root of the matter, the reason for my starting a diary: it is that I have no such real friend.

Let me put it more clearly, since no one will believe that a girl of thirteen feels herself quite alone in the world, nor is it so. I have darling parents and a sister of sixteen. I know about thirty people whom one might call friends—I have strings of boyfriends, anxious to catch a glimpse of me and who, failing that, peep at me through mirrors in class. I have relations, aunts and uncles, who are darlings too, a good home, no I don't seem to lack anything. But it's the same with all my friends, just fun and joking, nothing more. I can never bring myself to talk of anything outside the common round. We don't seem to be able to get any closer, that is the root of the trouble. Perhaps I lack confidence, but anyway, there it is, a stubborn fact and I don't seem to be able to do anything about it.

Hence, this diary. To enhance in my mind's eye, the picture of the friend for whom I have waited so long, I don't want to set down a series of bald facts in a diary like most people do, but I want this diary itself to be my friend, and I shall call my friend Kitty. No one will grasp what I'm talking about if I begin my letters to Kitty just out of the blue, so, albeit unwillingly, I will start by sketching in brief the story of my life.

My father was thirty-six when he married my mother, who was then twenty-five. My sister Margot was born in 1926 in Frankfort-on-Main, I followed on June 12, 1929, and, as we are Jewish, we emigrated to Holland in 1933, where my father was appointed Managing Director of Travies N.V. This firm is in close relationship with the firm of Kolen & Co. in the same building, of which my father is a partner.

The rest of our family, however, felt the full impact of Hitler's anti-Jewish laws, so life was filled with anxiety. In 1938 after the pogroms, my two uncles (my mother's brothers) escaped to the U.S.A. My old grandmother came to us, she was then seventy-three. After May 1940 good times rapidly fled: first the war, then the capitulation, followed by the arrival of the Germans, which is when the sufferings of us Jews really began. Anti-Jewish decrees followed each other in quick succession. Jews must wear a yellow star, I Jews must hand in their bicycles, Jews are banned from trams and are forbidden to drive. Jews are only allowed to do their shopping between three and five o'clock and then only in shops which bear the placard "Jewish shop." Jews must be indoors by eight o'clock and cannot even sit in their own gardens after that hour. Jews are forbidden to visit theaters, cinemas, and other places of entertainment. Jews may not take part in public sports. Swimming baths, tennis courts, hockey fields, and other sports grounds are all prohibited to them. Jews may not visit Christians. Jews must go to Jewish schools, and manymore restrictions of a similar kind.

So, we could not do this and were forbidden to do that. But life went on despite it all. Jopie used to say to me, "You're scared to do anything, because it may be forbidden." Our freedom was strictly limited. Yet things were still bearable.

Granny died in January 1942; no one will ever know how much she is present in my thoughts and how much I love her still.

In 1934 I went to school at the Montessori Kindergarten and continued there. It was at the end of the school year, I was in form 6B, when I had to say good-by to Mrs. K. We both wept, it was very sad. In 194I I went, with my sister Margot, to the Jewish Secondary School, she into the fourth form and I into the first.

So far everything is all right with the four of us and here I come to the present day.

To distinguish them from others, all Jews were forced by the Germans to wear, prominently displayed, a yellow six-pointed star.

Saturday, 20 June, 1942

Dear Kitty,

I'll start straight away. It is so peaceful now, Mummy and Daddy are out and Margot has gone to play ping-pong with some friends.

I've been playing ping-pong a lot myself lately. We ping pongers are very partial to an ice cream, especially in summer, when one gets warm at the game, so we usually finish up with a visit to the nearest ice-cream shop, Delphi or Oasis, where Jews are allowed. We've given up scrounging for extra pocket money. Oasis is usually full and among our large circle of friends we always manage to find some kindhearted gentleman or boyfriend, who presents us with more ice cream than we could devour in a week.

I expect you will be rather surprised at the fact that I should talk of boyfriends at my age. Alas, one simply can't seem to avoid it at our school. As soon as a boy asks if he may bicycle home with me and we get into conversation, nine out of ten times I can be sure that he will fall head over heels in love immediately and simply won't allow me out of his sight. After a while it cools down of course, especially as I take little notice of ardent looks and pedal blithely on.

If it gets so far that they begin about "asking Father" I swerve slightly on my bicycle, my satchel falls, the young man is bound to get off and hand it to me, by which time I have introduced a new topic of conversation.

These are the most innocent types, you get some who blow kisses or try to get hold of your arm, but then they are knocking at the wrong door. I get off my bicycle and refuse to go further in their company, or I pretend to be insulted and tell them in no uncertain terms to clear off.

There, the foundation of our friendship is laid, till tomorrow!

Yours, Anne

Sunday, 2I June, 1942

Dear Kitty,

Our whole class B, is trembling, the reason is that the teachers meeting is to be held soon. There is much speculation as to who will move up and who will stay put. Miep de Jong and I are highly amused at Wim and Jacques, the two boys behind us. They won't have a florin left for the holidays, it will all be gone on betting. "You'll move up," "Shan't," "Shall," from morning till night. Even Miep pleads for silence and my angry outbursts don't calm them.

According to me, a quarter of the class should stay where they are, there are some absolute cuckoos, but teachers are the greatest freaks on earth, so perhaps they will be freakish in the right way for once.

I’m not afraid about my girlfriends and myself, we will squeeze through somehow, though I'm not too certain about my math. Still, we can but wait patiently. Till then, we cheer each other along.

I get along quite well with all my teachers, nine in all, seven masters and two mistresses. Mr. Keptor, the old math master, was very annoyed with me for a long time because I chatter so much. So I had to write a composition with "A Chatterbox" as the subject. A chatterbox! Whatever could one write? However, deciding I would puzzle that out later, I wrote it in my notebook, and tried to keep quiet.

That evening, when I'd finished my other homework, my eyes fell on the title in my notebook. I pondered, while chewing the end of my fountain pen, that anyone can scribble some nonsense in large letters with the words well-spaced but the difficulty was to prove beyond doubt the necessity of talking. I thought and thought and then, suddenly having an idea, filled my three allotted sides and felt completely satisfied. My arguments were that talking is a feminine characteristic and that I would do my best to keep it under control, but I should never be cured, for my mother talked as much as I, probably more, and what can one do about inherited qualities?

Mr. Keptor had to laugh at my arguments, but when I continued to hold forth in the next lesson, another composition followed. This time it was "Incurable Chatterbox," I handed this in and Keptor made no complaints for two whole lessons. But in the third lesson it was too much for him again. "Anne, as punishment for talking, will do a composition entitled 'Quack, quack, quack, says Mrs. Natterbeak.' Shouts of laughter from the class. I had to laugh too, although I felt that my inventiveness on this subject was exhausted. I had to think of something else, something entirely original. I was in luck, as my friend Sanne writes good poetry and offered to help by doing the whole composition in verse. I jumped for joy.

Keptor wanted to make a fool of me with this absurd theme, I would get my own back and make him the laughingstock of the whole class. The poem was finished and was perfect. It was about a mother duck and a father swan who had three baby ducklings. The baby ducklings were bitten to death by Father because they chattered too much. Luckily Keptor saw the joke, he read the poem out loud to the class, with comments, and to various other classes.

Since then, I am allowed to talk, never get extra work, in fact Keptor always jokes about it.

Yours, Anne

Wednesday, 24 June, 1942

Dear Kitty,

It is boiling hot, we are all positively melting, and in this heat, I have to walk everywhere. Now I can fully appreciate how nice a tram is, but that is a forbidden luxury for Jews—shanks mare is good enough for us. I had to visit the dentist in the Jan Luykenstraat in the lunch hour yesterday. It is a long way from our school in the Stadstimmertuinen, I nearly fell asleep in school that afternoon. Luckily, the dentist’s assistant was very kind and gave me a drink—she's a good sort.

We are allowed on the ferry and that is about all. There is a little boat from the Josef Israelskade, the man there took us at once when we asked him. It is not the Dutch people’s fault that we are having such a miserable time.

I do wish I didn't have to go to school, as my bicycle was stolen in the Easter holidays and Daddy has given Mummy's to a Christian family for safekeeping. But thank goodness, the holidays are nearly here, one more week and the agony is over. Something amusing happened yesterday, I was passing the bicycle sheds when someone called out to me. I looked around and there was the nice-looking boy I met on the previous evening, at my girlfriend Eva's home. He came shyly towards me and introduced himself as Harry Goldberg. I was rather surprised and wondered what he wanted, but I didn't have to wait long. He asked if I would allow him to accompany me to school. "As you're going my way in any case, I will," I replied and so we went together. Harry is sixteen and can tell all kinds of amusing stories. He was waiting for me again this morning and I expect he will from now on.

Yours, Anne

Tuesday, 30 June, 1942

Dear Kitty,

I've not had a moment to write to you until today. I was with friends all day on Thursday. On Friday we had visitors, and so it went on until today. Harry and I have got to know each other well in a week, and he has told me a lot about his life, he came to Holland alone, and is living with his grandparents. His parents are in Belgium.

Hany had a girlfriend called Fanny. I know her too, a very soft, dull creature. Now that he has met me, he realizes that he was just daydreaming in Fanny's presence. I seem to act as a stimulant to keep him awake. You see we all have our uses, and queer ones too at times!

Jopie slept here on Saturday night, but she went to Lies on Sunday and I was bored stiff. Harry was to have come in the evening, but he rang up at 6 p.m. I went to the telephone, he said, "Harry Goldberg here, please may I speak to Anne?" "Yes, Harry, Anne speaking."

"Hullo, Anne, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you."

"I'm terribly sorry I can't come this evening, but I would like to just speak to you, is it all right if I come in ten minutes?"

"Yes, that's fine, good-by!"

"Good-by, I'll be with you soon."

Receiver down.

I quickly changed into another frock and smartened up my hair a bit. Then I stood nervously at the window watching for him. At last, I saw him coming. It was a wonder I didn't dash down at once, instead I waited patiently until he rang. Then I went down and he positively burst in when I opened the door. "Anne, my grandmother thinks you are too young to go out regularly with me, and that I should go to the Leurs, but perhaps you know that I am not going out with Fanny anymore."

"No, why is that have you quarreled?"

"No, not at all. I told Fanny that we didn't get on well together, so it was better for us not to go out together anymore, but she was always welcome in our home, and I hope I should be in hers. You see, I thought Fanny had been going out with another boy and treated her accordingly. But that was quite untrue. And now my uncle says I should apologize to Fanny, but of course I didn't want to do that, so I finished the whole affair. That was just one of the many reasons. My grandmother would rather I went with Fanny than you, but I shan't, old people have such terribly old-fashioned ideas at times, but I just can't fall into line. I need my grandparents, but in a sense, they need me too. From now on I shall be free on Wednesday evenings. Officially I go to wood-carving lessons to please my grandparents, in fact I go to a meeting of the Zionist Movement. I'm not supposed to, because my grandparents are very much against the Zionists. I'm by no means a fanatic, but I have a leaning that way and find it interesting. But lately it has become such a mess there that I'm going to quit, so next Wednesday will be my last time. Then I shall be able to see you on Wednesday evening, Saturday afternoon, Sunday afternoon, and perhaps more."

"But your grandparents are against it, you can't do it behind their backs!"

"Love finds a way."

Then we passed the bookshop on the corner, and there stood Peter Wessel with two other boys, he said "Hello"— it's the first time he has spoken to me for ages, I was really pleased.

Harry and I Walked on and on and the of it was that I should meet him at five minutes to seven in the front of his house next evening.

Yours, Anne

Friday, 3 July, 1942

Dear Kitty,

Harry visited us yesterday to meet my parents. I had bought a cream cake, sweets, tea, and fancy biscuits, quite a spread, but neither Harry nor I felt like sitting stiffly side by side indefinitely, so we went for a walk, and it was already ten past eight when he brought me home. Daddy was very cross, and thought it was very wrong of me because it is dangerous for Jews to be out after eight o'clock, and I had to promise to be in ten to eight in future.

Tomorrow I've been invited to his house. My girlfriend Jopie teases me the whole time about Harry. I'm honestly not in love, oh, no, I can surely have boyfriends—no one thinks anything of that—but one boyfriend, or beau, as Mother calls him, seems to be quite different.

Harry went to see Eva one evening and she told me that she asked him, "Who do you like best, Fanny or Anne?" He said, "It's nothing to do with you!" But when he left (they hadn't chatted together anymore the whole evening), "Now listen, it's Anne, so long, and don't tell a soul." And like a flash he was gone.

It's easy to see that Harry is in love with me, rather fun for a change. Margot would say, “Harry is a decent lad." I agree, but he is more than that. Mummy is full of praise: a good-looking boy, a well-behaved, nice boy. I'm glad that the whole family approve of him. He likes them too, but he thinks my girlfriends are very childish, and he's quite right.

Yours, Anne

Sunday morning, 5 July, 1942

Dear Kitty,

Our examination results were announced in the Jewish Theater last Friday. I couldn't have hoped for better. My report is not at all bad, I had one vix satis, a five for algebra, two sixes, and the rest were all sevens or eights. They were certainly pleased at home, although over the question of marks my parents are quite different from most. They don't care a bit whether my reports are good or bad as long as I'm well and happy, and not too cheeky: then the rest will come by itself. I am just the opposite. I don't want to be a bad pupil, I should really have stayed in the seventh form in the Montessori School, but was accepted for the Jewish Secondary.

When all the Jewish children had to go to Jewish schools, the headmaster took Lies and me conditionally after a bit of persuasion. He relied on us to do our best and I don't want to let him down. My sister Margot has her report too, brilliant as usual. She would move up with cum laude if that existed at school, she is so brainy. Daddy has been at home a lot lately, as there is nothing for him to do at business, it must be rotten to feel so superfluous. Mr. Koophuis has taken over Travies and Mr. Kraler the firm Kolen & Co. When we walked across our little square together a few days ago, Daddy began to talk of us going into hiding. I asked him why on earth he was beginning to talk of that already. "Yes, Anne," he said, "you know that we have been taking food, clothes, furniture to other people for more than a year now. We don't want our belongings to be seized by the Germans, but we certainly don't want to fall into their clutches ourselves. So we shall disappear of our own accord and not wait until they come and fetch us."

"But, Daddy, when would it be?" He spoke so seriously that I grew very anxious.

"Don't you worry about it we shall arrange everything. Make the most of your carefree young life while you can." That was all. Oh, may the fulfillment of these somber words remain far distant yet.

Yours, Anne

Wednesday, 8 July, 1942

Dear Kitty,

Years seem to have passed between Sunday and now. So much has happened, it is just as if the whole world had turned upside down. But I am still alive, Kitty, and that is the main thing, Daddy says.

Yes, I'm still alive, indeed, but don't ask where or how. You wouldn't understand a word, so I will begin by telling you what happened on Sunday afternoon.

At three o'clock (Harry had just gone but was coming back later) someone rang the front doorbell. I was lying lazily reading a book on the veranda in the sunshine, so I didn't hear it. A bit later, Margot appeared at the kitchen door looking very excited. "The S.S. have sent a call-up notice for Daddy," she whispered. "Mummy has gone to see Mr. Van Daan already." (Van Daan is a friend who works with Daddy in the business.) It was a great shock to me, a call-up, everyone knows what that means. I picture concentration camps and lonely cells—should we allow him to be doomed to this? "Of course he won't go," declared Margot, while we waited together. "Mummy has gone to the Van Daans to discuss whether we should move into our hiding place tomorrow. The Van Daans are going with us, so we shall be seven in all." Silence. We couldn't talk anymore, thinking about Daddy, who, little knowing what was going on, was visiting some old people in the

Joodse Invalide, waiting for Mummy, the heat and suspense, all made us very overawed and silent.

Suddenly the bell rang again. "That is Harry," I said. "Don't open the door.” Margot held me back, but it was not necessary as we heard Mummy and Mr. Van Daan downstairs, talking to Harry, then they came in and closed the door behind them. Each time the bell went, Margot or I had to creep softly down to see if it was Daddy, not opening the door to anyone else.

Margot and I were sent out of the room. Van Daan wanted to talk to Mummy alone. When we were alone together in our bedroom, Margot told me that the call-up was not for Daddy, but for her. I was more frightened than ever and began to cry. Margot is sixteen, would they really take girls of that age away alone? But thank goodness she won't go, Mummy said so herself, that must be what Daddy meant when he talked about us going into hiding.

Into hiding—where would we go, in a town or the country, in a house or a cottage, when, how, where...?

These were questions I was not allowed to ask, but I couldn't get them out of my mind. Margot and I began to pack some of our most vital belongings into a school satchel. The first thing I put in was this diary, then hair curlers, handkerchiefs, schoolbooks, a comb, old letters, I put in the craziest things with the idea that we were going into hiding. But I'm not sorry, memories mean more to me than dresses.

At five o'clock Daddy finally arrived, and we phoned Mr. Koophuis to ask if he could come around in the evening. Van Daan went and fetched Miep. Miep has been in the business with Daddy since 1933 and has become a close friend, likewise her brand-new husband, Henk. Miep came and took some shoes, dresses, coats, underwear, and stockings away in her bag, promising to return in the evening. Then silence fell on the house, not one of us felt like eating anything, it was still hot and everything was very strange. We let our large upstairs room to a certain Mr. Goudsmit, a divorced man in his thirties, who appeared to have nothing to do on this particular evening, we simply could not get rid of him without being rude, he hung about until ten o'clock. At eleven o'clock Miep and Henk Van Santen arrived.

Once again, shoes, stockings, books, and underclothes disappeared into Miep's bag and Henk's deep pockets, and at eleven-thirty they too disappeared. I was dog-tired and although I knew that it would be my last night in my own bed, I fell asleep immediately and didn't wake up until Mummy called me at five-thirty the next morning. Luckily it was not so hot as Sunday, warm rain fell steadily all day. We put on heaps of clothes as if we were going to the North Pole, the sole reason being to take clothes with us. No Jew in our situation would have dreamed of going out with a suitcase full of clothing. I had on two vests, three pairs of pants, a dress, on top of that a skirt, jacket, summer coat, two pairs of stockings, lace-up shoes, woolly cap, scarf, and still more, I was nearly stifled before we started, but no one inquired about that.

Margot filled her satchel with schoolbooks, fetched her bicycle, and rode off behind Miep into the unknown, as far as I was concerned. You see I still didn't know where our secret hiding place was to be. At seven-thirty the door closed behind us. Moortje, my little cat, was the only creature to whom I said farewell. She would have a good home with the neighbors. This was all written in a letter addressed to Mr. Goudsmit.

There was one pound of meat in the kitchen for the cat, breakfast things lying on the table, stripped beds, all giving the impression that we had left helter-skelter. But we didn't care about impressions, we only wanted to get away, only escape and arrive safely, nothing else. Continued tomorrow.

Yours, Anne

Thursday, 9 July, 1942

Dear Kitty,

So we walked in the pouring rain, Daddy, Mummy, and I, each with a school satchel and shopping bag filled to the brim with all kinds of things thrown together anyhow.

We got sympathetic looks from people on their way to work. You could see by their faces how sorry they were they couldn't offer us a lift; the gaudy yellow star spoke for itself.

Only when we were on the road did Mummy and Daddy begin to tell me bits and pieces about the plan. For months as many of our goods and chattels and necessities of life as possible had been sent away and they were sufficiently ready for us to have gone into hiding of our own accord on July 16. The plan had had to be speeded up ten days because of the call-up, so our quarters would not be so well organized, but we had to make the best of it. The hiding place itself would be in the building where Daddy has his office. It will be hard for outsiders to understand, but I shall explain that later on. Daddy didn't have many people working for him: Mr. Kraler, Koophuis, Miep, and Elli Vossen, a twenty-three-year-old typist who all knew of our arrival. Mr. Vossen, Elli's father, and two boys worked in the warehouse, they had not been told.

I will describe the building: there is a large warehouse on the ground floor which is used as a store The front door to the house is next to the warehouse door, and inside the front door is a second doorway which leads to a staircase (a). There is another door at the top of the stairs, with a frosted glass window in it, which has "(Office " written in black letters across it. That is the large main office, very big, very light, and very full. Elli, Miep, and Mr. Koophuis work there in the daytime. A small dark room containing the safe, a wardrobe, anil a large cupboard leads to a small somewhat dark second office. Mr. Kraler and Mr. Van Daan used to sit here, now it is only Mr. Kraler. One can reach Kraler's office from the passage, but only via a glass door which can be opened from the inside, but not easily from the outside.

From Kraler's office a long passage goes past the coal store, up four steps and leads to the showroom of the whole building: the private office. Dark, dignified furniture, linoleum and carpets on the floor, radio, smart lamp, everything first class. Next door there is a roomy kitchen with a hot water faucet and a gas stove. Next door the W.C. That is the first floor.

A wooden staircase leads from the downstairs passage to the next floor (b). There is a small landing at the top. There is a door at each end of the landing, the left one leading to a storeroom at the front of the house and to the attics. One of those steep Dutch staircases runs from the side to the other door opening on to the street (c).

The right-hand door leads to our "Secret Annexe." No one would ever guess that there would be so many rooms hidden behind that plain gray door. There's a little step in front of the door and then you are inside.

There is a steep staircase immediately opposite the entrance (e). On the left a tiny passage brings you into a room which was to become the Frank family's bed-sitting-room, next door a smaller room, study and bedroom for the two young ladies of the family. On the right a little room without windows containing the washbasin and a small W.C. compartment, with another door leading to Margot's and my room. If you go up the next flight of stairs and open the door, you are simply amazed that there could be such a big light room in such an old house by the canal. There is a gas stove in this room (thanks to the fact that it was used as a laboratory) and a sink. This is now the kitchen for the Van Daan couple, besides being general living room, dining room, and scullery.

A tiny little corridor room will become Peter Van Daans apartment. Then, just as on the lower landing, there is a large attic. So there you are, I've introduced you to the whole of our beautiful "Secret Annexe."

Yours, Anne

Friday, 10 July, 1942

Dear Kitty,

I expect I have thoroughly bored you with my long-winded descriptions of our dwelling. But still I think you should know where we've landed.

But to continue my story—you see, I've not finished yet—when we arrived at the Prinsengracht, Miep took us quickly upstairs and into the "Secret Annexe." She closed the door behind us and we were alone. Margot was already waiting for us, having come much faster on her bicycle. Our living room and all the other rooms were chockfull of rubbish, indescribably so. All the cardboard boxes which had been sent to the office in the previous months lay piled on the floor and the beds. The little room was filled to the ceiling with bedclothes. We had to start clearing up immediately, if we wished to sleep in decent beds that night. Mummy and Margot were not in a fit state to take part, they were tired and lay down on their beds, they were miserable, and lots more besides. But the two "clearers up" of the family—Daddy and myself—wanted to start at once.

The whole day long we unpacked boxes, filled cupboards, hammered and tidied, until we were dead beat. We sank into clean beds that night. We hadn’t had a bit of anything warm the whole day, but we didn't care, Mummy and Margot were too tired and keyed up to eat, and Daddy and I were too busy.

On Tuesday morning we went on where we left off the day before. Elli and Miep collected our rations for us, Daddy improved the poor blackout, we scrubbed the kitchen floor, and were on the go the whole day long again. I hardly had time to think about the great change in my life until Wednesday. Then I had a chance, for the first time since our arrival, to tell you all about it, and at

the same time to realize myself what had actually happened to me and what was still going to happen.

Yours, Anne

Saturday, 1I July, 1942

Dear Kitty,

Daddy, Mummy, and Margot can’t get used to the sound of the Westertoren clock yet, which tells us the time every quarter of an hour. I can. I loved it from the start, and especially in the night it’s like a faithful friend. I expect you will be interested to hear what it feels like to "disappear", well, all I can say is that I don’t know myself yet. I don’t think I shall ever feel really at home in this house, but that does not mean that I loathe it here, it is more like being on vacation in a very peculiar boardinghouse. Rather a mad idea, perhaps, but that is how it strikes me. The "Secret Annexe" is an ideal hiding place. Although it leans to one side and is damp, you’d never find such a comfortable hiding place anywhere in Amsterdam, no, perhaps not even in the whole of Holland. Our little room looked very bare at first with nothing on the walls, but thanks to Daddy who had brought my film star collection and picture postcards on beforehand, and with the aid of paste pot and brush, I have transformed the walls into one gigantic picture. This makes it look much more cheerful, and, when the Van Daans come, we’ll get some wood from the attic, and make a few little cupboards for the walls and other odds and ends to make it look livelier.

Margot and Mummy are a little bit better now. Mummy felt well enough to cook some soup for the first time yesterday, but then forgot all about it, while she was downstairs talking, so the peas were burned to a cinder and utterly refused to leave the pan. Mr. Koophuis has brought me a book called Young People's Annual. The four of us went to the private office yesterday evening and turned on the radio. I was so terribly frightened that someone might hear it that I simply begged Daddy to come upstairs with me. Mummy understood how I felt and came too. We are very nervous in other ways, too, that the neighbors might hear us or see something going on. We made curtains straight away on the first day. Really one can hardly call them curtains, they are just light, loose strips of material, all different shapes, quality, and pattern, which Daddy and I sewed together in a most unprofessional way. These works of art are fixed in position with drawing pins, not to come down until we emerge from here.