Entry in Anne Frank's diary. Anne Frank

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Anne Frank
Shelter. Diary in letters

© 1947 by Otto H. Frank, renewed 1974

© 1982, 1991, 2001 by The Anne Frank-Fonds, Basel, Switzerland

© “Text”, edition in Russian, 2015

* * *

History of this book

Anne Frank kept a diary from June 12, 1942 to August 1, 1944. At first she wrote her letters only for herself - until the spring of 1944, when she heard “Oranje” on the radio. 1
Radio station of the Dutch government in exile, broadcasting from London. (Hereinafter, notes from translators.)

Speech by Bolkestein, Minister of Education in the Dutch government in exile. The minister said that after the war, all evidence of the suffering of the Dutch people during the German occupation should be collected and published. For example, among other evidence, he named diaries. Impressed by this speech, Anna decided after the war to publish a book, the basis of which was to serve as her diary.

She began to rewrite and rework her diary, making corrections, crossing out passages that did not seem very interesting to her, and adding others from memory. At the same time, she continued to keep the original diary, which in the 1986 scientific publication is called version “a”, in contrast to version “b” - the revised, second diary. Anna's last entry is dated August 1, 1944. On August 4, eight people hiding were arrested by the Green Police.

On the same day, Miep Heath and Bep Voskuijl hid Anna's notes. Miep Heath kept them in a drawer of her desk, and when it finally became clear that Anna was no longer alive, she gave the diary, without reading it, to Otto H. Frank, Anna's father.

Otto Frank, after much deliberation, decided to fulfill the will of his late daughter and publish her notes in the form of a book. To do this, from both Anna’s diaries - the original one (version “a”) and the one revised by herself (version “b”) - he compiled an abbreviated version “c”. The diary was supposed to be published in a series, and the volume of text was set by the publishing house.

The book came out of print in 1947. At that time, it was not yet customary to casually touch on sexual topics, especially in books addressed to young people. Another important reason why entire fragments and some wording were not included in the book was that Otto Frank did not want to harm the memory of his wife and fellow prisoners in the Vault. Anne Frank kept a diary from the age of thirteen to fifteen and in these notes she expressed her antipathies and indignation as openly as her sympathies.

Otto Frank died in 1980. He officially bequeathed the original diary of his daughter to the State Institute of Military Archives in Amsterdam. Since doubts about the authenticity of the diary have constantly arisen since the fifties, the institute subjected all records to thorough research. Only after their authenticity was established beyond any doubt were the diaries, along with the research results, published. The study examined, among other things, family relationships, facts surrounding the arrest and deportation, the ink and paper used for the letter, and Anne Frank's handwriting. This relatively voluminous work also contains information about all publications of the diary.

The Anne Frank Foundation in Basel, which, as Otto Frank's general heir, also inherited the copyright of his daughter, decided to undertake a new edition on the basis of all existing texts. This does not in any way diminish the importance of the editorial work carried out by Otto Frank - work that contributed to the wide distribution of the book and its political resonance. The new edition was published under the editorship of writer and translator Miriam Pressler. At the same time, Otto Frank’s edition was used without abbreviations and was only supplemented with excerpts from versions “a” and “b”. The text, presented by Mirjam Pressler and approved by the Anne Frank Foundation in Basel, is a quarter larger in length than the previously published version and aims to give the reader a deeper insight into the inner world of Anne Frank.

In 1998, five previously unknown diary pages were discovered. With the permission of the Anne Frank Foundation in Basel, a long excerpt has been added in this edition to the existing entry dated 8 February 1944. At the same time, a short version of the entry dated June 20, 1942 is not included in this edition, since the diary already includes a more detailed entry dated that date. In addition, in accordance with the latest findings, the dating has been changed: the entry dated November 7, 1942 is now assigned to October 30, 1943.

When Anne Frank wrote her second version (“b”), she decided what pseudonyms she would give to which person. She first wanted to call herself Anna Aulis, then Anna Robin. Otto Frank did not use these pseudonyms, but kept his real surname, but other characters were called pseudonyms, as his daughter wanted. The assistants, who are now known to everyone, deserve to have their real names also preserved in the book; the names of all others correspond to the scientific publication. In cases where a person himself wished to remain anonymous, the State Institute identified him with randomly chosen initials.

These are the real names of the people hiding with the Frank family.

Van Pels family (from Osnabrück): Augusta (born September 29, 1890), Hermann (born March 31, 1889), Peter (born November 9, 1929); Anna named them Petronella, Hans and Alfred Van Daan, in this edition - Petronella, Hermann and Peter Van Daan.

Fritz Pfeffer (b. 1889 in Giessen) and Anna herself, and in this book is named Albert Dussel.

Anne Frank's Diary

I hope that I can trust you with everything, as I have never trusted anyone before, and I hope that you will be a great support for me.

All this time, both you and Kitty, to whom I now write regularly, have been a great support to me. I find journaling this way much more enjoyable, and now I can't wait to write.

Oh, how glad I am that I took you with me!

I’ll start with how I received you, that is, how I saw you on the table among the gifts (because they bought you in front of me, but that doesn’t count).

On Friday, June 12, I woke up at six o’clock, and this is quite understandable - after all, it was my birthday. But it was impossible to get up at six in the morning, so I had to restrain my curiosity until a quarter to seven. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I went to the dining room, where Moortier, our cat, met me and began to caress me.

At the beginning of eight, I went to my dad and mom, and then to the living room to unwrap gifts, and the very first I saw was you, probably one of the best gifts. There was also a bouquet, two peonies. Dad and Mom gave me a blue blouse, a board game, a bottle of grape juice, which, in my opinion, tastes like wine (wine is made from grapes), a puzzle, a jar of cream, two and a half guilders and a voucher for two books. Then they gave me another book, “Camera Obscura,” but Margot already had one, and I replaced it, a plate of homemade cookies (I baked them myself, of course, because I’m great at baking cookies now), a lot of sweets, and a strawberry cake from moms. A letter from grandma arrived the same day, but this, of course, was an accident.

Then Hanneli came to pick me up and we went to school. At recess, I treated the teachers and children to butter cookies, and then we had to study again. I returned home at five o’clock because I went to physical education (although I’m actually exempt due to the fact that my arms and legs are dislocated) and I chose a game for my classmates in honor of my birthday - volleyball. Sanna Lederman was already waiting at home. After physical education, Ilse Wagner, Hanneli Hoslar and Jacqueline van Maarsen, girls from our class, came with me. I used to have two best friends, Hanneli and Sanna, and whoever saw us together always said: “There goes Anna, Hannah and Sanna.” I only met Jacqueline van Maarsen at the Jewish Lyceum, and now she is my best friend. Ilse is Hanneli's best friend, and Sanna is at another school, and she has her own friends there.

Our club gave me a wonderful book “Dutch Traditions and Legends”, but by mistake they gave me the second volume, and so I exchanged the other two books for the first part. Aunt Helena brought another puzzle, Aunt Stephanie a pretty brooch, and Aunt Leni a wonderful book, Daisy's Mountain Vacation. This morning I was sitting in the bath and thinking about how wonderful it would be if I had a dog like Rin-Tin-Tin. 2
The name of the dog in the film of the same name.

I would also call her Rin-Tin-Tin, and she was always at the school with the concierge, and in good weather in the bicycle room.

On Sunday afternoon they celebrated my birth. Rin-Tin-Tin was very much to the taste of my classmates. They gave me two brooches, a bookmark and two books. But first I'll tell you something about the class and the school, and I'll start with the students.

Betty Bloemendaal looks a little poor, I think she is, she lives on Jan Klaasenstraat somewhere in the western part of the city and none of us know where that is. She studies very well, but only because she is so diligent, because now it is clear that her abilities leave much to be desired. She's a pretty quiet girl.

Jacqueline van Maarsen is considered my best friend, although I have never had a real friend. At first I thought that Jacques would become her, but it didn’t turn out that way.

D.K. is a very nervous girl, she always forgets something and gets one work penalty after another. She is very good-natured, especially with H.Z.

E.S. is such a chatterbox that it’s simply impossible to stand her. If she asks about something, she will definitely start twirling your buttons with her fingers or tugging at your hair. They say that E. can’t stand me, but this doesn’t upset me at all, because I don’t like her either.

Henny Mets is a cheerful and sweet girl, but she speaks terribly loudly, and when she plays on the street, she acts like a little girl.

It’s a pity that Henny is friends with one girl, Beppi, who has a very bad influence on her, because this Beppi is terribly mean and dirty.

You can write essays about J.R. Y. is a braggart, a gossip, nasty, pretends to be an adult, insidious, hypocritical. It's a pity that she managed to get her hands on Jacques. Y. cries for every reason, is afraid of pain and is a terrible primp. Our lawyer J. is always right. She's a terribly rich girl, and her closet is full of pretty dresses, but they're too old-fashioned. She imagines herself to be a beauty, although in reality the situation is quite the opposite. Y. and I simply can’t stand each other.

Ilse Wagner is a cheerful and great girl, but she is too meticulous and can be boring for hours. Ilsa is quite attached to me. Actually, she's smart, but lazy.

Hanneli Hoslar, or Lis, as she is called at school, is a wonderful girl, usually so shy, but at home she is terribly rude. Everything they tell her, she blurts out to her mother. But she expresses her opinion frankly, and I treat her very well, especially lately.

Nanny van Praach-Seehaar is a funny, small, smart girl. I like her. She's pretty pretty. There's not much to say about her.

Efje de Jong, in my opinion, is simply inimitable. She just turned twelve, but she's a real lady. She treats me like I'm a baby. She is also always ready to help, and that's why I like her.

Kh.Z. is the most beautiful girl in our class. She has a cute face, but she's pretty dumb in class. I think they will keep her for a second year, but of course I don’t tell her about that.

(ADD)

Kh.Z., to my great surprise, was not retained for a second year.

And to conclude the story about our twelve girls, I’m sitting with Kh.Z.

You can talk a lot about boys, but it will still not be enough.

Maurice Koster is one of my many fans, but he is a rather boring guy.

Sally Springer is an incredible vulgar man, and there is a rumor that he has mated with someone. Still, I think he’s a wonderful guy because he’s terribly funny.

Emil Bonewit is a fan of H.Z., although she doesn’t really care. He's pretty boring.

Rob Cohen had a crush on me too, but now I can't stand him anymore. This is a hypocritical, deceitful, whiny, strange and boring boy, he pretends to be an awful lot.

Max van de Velde is from a farming family in Medemblik, but he is, as Margot would say, quite suitable.

Herman Koopman is also terribly vulgar, as is Jopi de Beer - a terrible suitor and womanizer.

Leo Blom is Jopie de Beer's bosom friend and has picked up his vulgar habits from him.

Albert de Mesquita transferred from Montessori School Number Six and skipped one grade. Terribly smart.

Leo Slaher also came to us from this school, but he is not as smart.

Ryu Stoppelmon, a small and strange boy from Almelo, later transferred to our school.

K.N. does everything that should not be done.

Jacques Kokernoot is sitting behind us with Pam and we are just dying of laughter (H. and I).

Harry Schaap is the most decent boy in our class, he is quite pleasant.

The same could be said about Werner Joseph, but he is a big quiet person and therefore seems boring.

Salomon himself is a kind of back-alley bully, a nasty guy. (Fan!)

Api Rome is quite religious, but also rubbish.

This is where I end. Next time I will have so much to write to you, which means I will tell you so much. Bye, you are so wonderful!

It’s such an unusual feeling for a girl like me to keep a diary! And not just because I’ve never written before. It seems to me that later neither myself nor anyone else will be interested in the confessions of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. But in fact, this is not so important, I just want to write, and moreover, to express frankly and absolutely everything that is in my soul.

“Paper is more patient than people.” This saying came to mind on one of the sad days when I was sitting with my head in my hands, and out of lethargy I couldn’t decide whether to go for a walk or stay at home, and in the end I just sat there thinking in one place. Indeed, paper will endure anything, and since I am not going to show this cardboard-bound notebook to anyone, which bears the pompous name “diary,” unless someday a friend or girlfriend appears in my life and becomes a real friend or girlfriend, then who cares.

So I’ve come to the most important thing, where the idea of ​​keeping a diary came from: I don’t have a real friend. To make it completely clear, this would need to be explained, because no one will understand that a thirteen-year-old girl is completely alone in the whole wide world. Of course, this is not true. I have lovely parents and a sixteen-year-old sister; in total, I have at least thirty acquaintances and so-called girlfriends. I have a lot of fans, they don’t take their eyes off me, and during lessons, when there is nothing else left, they try to catch my gaze in a fragment of a mirror. I have relatives, nice aunts and a good home. To look from the outside - what else am I missing, besides a real friend. With all my friends you can only fool around; I can never talk to them about anything other than trifles. Frankness with them is impossible, that's the main thing. Maybe something in me prevents me from being frank with others, but the fact remains a fact, and, unfortunately, nothing can be done about it. That's why the diary.

But in order for me to have before my eyes a real girlfriend, whom I have been dreaming of for so long, I will not, as everyone else does, write down various facts in my diary; I want this notebook to become my friend, and I will call this friend Kitty.

Story of my life! (Idiot, how could I forget that.) No one will understand anything if you suddenly start corresponding with Kitty out of the blue, so I’ll tell you briefly about my biography, although without pleasure.

My dad, the most amazing father I've ever met, married my mom, who was 25 at the time, when he was 36. My sister Margot was born in 1926 in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. On June 12, 1929, I appeared. I lived in Frankfurt until I was four years old. We are pure Jews, so my father left for Holland in 1933. He became director of the Dutch joint stock company for the production of jam - Opekta. My mother, Edith Frank-Hollender, also went to Holland in September, and Margot and I went to Aachen, where our grandmother lived. In December, Margot went to Holland, and they brought me in February and put me on the table as a gift for Margot’s birthday. Soon I went to kindergarten at Montessori school number six. I stayed there until I was six years old, then I went to first grade. In the sixth grade I went to the headmistress Mefrau Kuperus. At the end of the school year, we said goodbye very touchingly and both cried, because I had to transfer to the Jewish Lyceum, where Margot was already studying.

There was quite a lot of anxiety in our lives, since our relatives who remained in Germany were not immune to Hitler’s laws against the Jews. After the pogroms of 1938, my two uncles, my mother’s brothers, fled and arrived safely in North America, and my old grandmother came to us. She was then seventy-three years old.

After May 1940, the good times came to an end: first the war, then the capitulation, the German invasion, and for us Jews, suffering began. Laws against Jews followed one after another, and our freedom was sharply limited. Jews must wear a yellow star; Jews must hand over their bicycles; Jews are not allowed to ride on trams; Jews are not allowed to ride in cars, even private ones; Jews can only shop from three to five; Jews are only allowed to go to a Jewish hairdresser; Jews are not allowed to go out after eight in the evening and before six in the morning; Jews are not allowed to appear in theaters, cinemas, or any other places of entertainment; Jews are not allowed to go to the swimming pool, tennis court, hockey field, or other sports grounds; Jews are not allowed to engage in rowing, Jews are generally not allowed to engage in any sports in public places; after eight in the evening, Jews are not allowed to sit either in their own garden or in the garden of their friends; Jews are not allowed to visit Christians; Jewish children must go to Jewish schools, and so on and so forth. This is how our life continued, and we were forbidden one thing or another. Jacques always tells me: “I’m afraid to take on something: what if it’s forbidden?”

In the summer of 1941, my grandmother became seriously ill. She had to have surgery and my birthday wasn't particularly good. In the summer of 1940, too, because the war in Holland had just ended. Grandmother died in January 1942. No one knows how much I think about her and how much I still love her. We celebrated this birthday in 1942 to make up for all the previous ones, and my grandmother’s candle stood next to the others.

All is well with the four of us so far, and thus I come to today and the date that marks the opening of my diary, June 20, 1942.

Dear Kitty!

I'll get down to business right away; Now everything is quiet and calm, mom and dad left, and Margo and some guys went to play ping-pong with her friend Tres. I’ve also been playing ping pong an awful lot lately, so much so that five girls and I even started a club. The club is called Ursa Minor Minus Two. A terribly strange name, but that's because of one mistake. We wanted to give the club an unusual name and decided, since there are five of us, to call it “Ursa Minor Constellation.” We thought that it consisted of five stars, but we were mistaken; it, like the Big Dipper, consists of seven. That's why it's minus two. Ilse Wagner has ping-pong, and the large Wagner dining room is always at our disposal. Since we five ping pong players really love ice cream, especially in the summer, and playing makes us hot, each game usually ends with a trip to one of the nearest ice cream shops where Jews can go - Oasis or Delphi. We no longer care at all whether we have money or not, because the Oasis is always full of people and among all these people there will certainly be some generous gentleman from the vast circle of our acquaintances, or one or another of our admirers who offers us so much You can't eat enough ice cream in a week.

I think you’ll be a little surprised that at my age I’m already talking about fans. Unfortunately, or in some cases, not unfortunately at all, this seems to be a necessary evil in our school. As soon as one of the boys asks if he can walk me home on his bike and starts a conversation with me, then nine times out of ten I can be sure that the aforementioned young man has a bad habit of immediately falling head over heels in love and will not leave me alone not a single step. Gradually he cools down, especially if I don’t pay attention to his ardent glances and pedal cheerfully. Sometimes, when I get tired of this, I deliberately wobble the steering wheel, my briefcase falls, and the young man, out of decency, has to jump off and pick it up, and by the time he brings the briefcase, I manage to change the topic of conversation. These are the most harmless ones, and there are, of course, those who blow kisses or try to grab his hand, but then they certainly attacked the wrong one: I get off the bike and refuse to be in his company anymore, or I look offended and tell him in the strongest possible terms, to tell him to go home.

Well, the foundation of our friendship has been laid, see you tomorrow.

Your Anna

Dear Kitty!

Our whole class is shaking with fear. Of course, regarding the upcoming teachers' council. Half the class is betting on who will transfer and who will stay for the second year. H.Z. and I laugh until we cry at the two boys who are sitting on the desk behind us, K.N. and Jacques Kokernoot, who squandered all the capital they earned during the holidays: “They will transfer - no, they will leave - no, they will transfer...” - and so from morning to evening, even X.’s glances begging him to shut up, and my angry attacks cannot calm these two down. In my opinion, they will keep a quarter of the class for the second year, they are such idiots, but teachers are the most capricious people in the world, maybe this time, as an exception, their capriciousness is to our advantage.

I’m not really afraid for myself and my friends, everything will be fine with us. I'm just not confident in math. Well, let's wait. While we encourage each other. I have pretty good relationships with all the teachers. We have nine of them - seven men and two women. Mener Keesing, a leading mathematician, at one time was terribly angry with me because I talk so much. One remark followed another, and then he assigned me work as punishment - an essay on the topic “Chatterbox.” “Chatterbox”... Well, what can you write here. But before I began to rack my brains, I wrote down the task in a notebook, put it in my bag and tried to remain silent.

In the evening, when all the homework was done, I noticed a note about the essay. I chewed on my pen and thought about this topic. Anyone can simply write whatever they want and scatter the lines as widely as possible. But finding indisputable evidence in favor of chatter is where the art lies. I thought and thought, and suddenly it dawned on me; I completed the assigned three pages and was satisfied. I argued that chatter is inherent in women and that I, of course, will try to restrain myself a little, but I will probably never wean myself off it, because my mother talks as much as me, if not more, and it is almost useless to fight against heredity.

Mener Keesing laughed a lot at my arguments, but when in his next lesson I started chatting again, he assigned me a second essay. This time it was called "Incorrigible Chatterbox." I wrote this to him too, and in two lessons Keesing had nothing to complain about. And on the third, my chatter again infuriated him. “Anne Frank, as punishment for chatting, an essay on the theme “Quack-quack-quack,” said the duffrau Duck!”

The class burst into laughter. Willy-nilly, I also laughed along with everyone, although my research abilities in the field of chatter were exhausted. We had to find something new, very original. My friend Sanna, a wonderful poetess, offered her help - to write an essay from beginning to end in verse. I was delighted. Keesing wanted to ridicule me with this stupid essay, but with my poem I will ridicule him threefold.

The poems turned out amazing! It was about a mother duck, a father swan, and three ducklings whose father pecked them to death because they quacked too much. Fortunately, Keesing liked the joke and read the poems with commentary in our class and in other classes. Since then, I can chat as much as I like and no penalties; on the contrary, Keesing now always makes jokes.

Your Anna

Dear Kitty!

It’s unbearably hot, everyone is puffing and puffing, and in this heat I have to get everywhere on foot. Only now I appreciated what a good thing the tram is, especially with open carriages, but it is now forbidden fruit for us Jews, all we can do is run on our own two feet. Yesterday I had to go to the dentist on Jan-Lukenstraat during a long break. It is far from our school, on Stadstimmertynen. That's why I almost fell asleep during the day at school. Fortunately, people themselves offered me something to drink. The dental assistant is actually a very warm person.

The only thing we can still use is the ferry. The ferryman at Josef-Israelskad immediately took us as soon as we asked to be transported. The Dutch, of course, are not to blame for the fact that we Jews have such a bad time. If only I didn’t have to go to school, my bicycle was stolen on Easter, and my dad gave my mother’s bicycle for safekeeping to Christian friends. But fortunately, the holidays are approaching quickly, another week and the torment will end.

Something nice happened yesterday morning. I was walking past a bicycle rack when someone called out to me. I turned around and saw that standing behind me was a handsome guy whom I had met the night before at Vilma’s. He is her second cousin, and Vilma is my friend. At first she seemed very nice to me. That's true, but she talks about boys all day and nothing else, and it's starting to get boring. The guy came up, a little shy, and introduced himself: Hello Silberberh. I was a little surprised and didn’t really understand what he needed, but everything soon became clear. He wanted to keep me company and take me to school. “If it’s on your way, let’s go,” I answered, and we went together. Hello is already sixteen years old, and he tells all sorts of stories very sweetly.

This morning he was waiting for me again, and will probably continue like this from now on.

Dear Kitty!

Until today, I absolutely couldn’t find the time to write to you. On Thursday I spent the whole day with friends, on Friday guests came to us, and so on until today.

During this week, Hello and I got to know each other better, he told me a lot about his life. He came from Gelsenkirchen and lives here in Holland, without his parents, with his grandparents. His parents live in Belgium, but it is impossible for him to go there. Hello had a girl, Ursula. I know her too, she is a model of meekness and boredom. Ever since Hello met me, he realized that he was bored out of his mind with Ursula. So I'm a kind of anti-sleeping pill, you never know what you'll come in for!

Jacques spent the night with me on Saturday. In the afternoon she went to Hanneli, and I missed her to death.

Hello was supposed to come to me in the evening, but around six he called. I answered the phone and he said:

– Helmut Silberberch speaks. Please, can I call Anna?

- Yes, Hello, this is Anna.

- Hello Anna. How are you doing?

- OK, thank you.

– I wanted to tell you that, unfortunately, I won’t be able to come today, but still I would like to talk to you. Can I come to your house in ten minutes?

- Okay, bye!

- Bye, I'll be right there.

After hanging up, I quickly changed my clothes and straightened my hair a little. Then, excitedly, she leaned out of the window. Finally he came. Miracle of miracles - I did not rush headlong up the stairs, but calmly waited for him to call. I went downstairs, and without letting me come to my senses, he blurted out:

– Listen, Anna, my grandmother thinks that you are still too young to date. She says I need to go to the Loewenbachs, but you probably know that I am no longer dating Ursula.

- Why, are you in a quarrel?

- No, on the contrary. I told Ursula that we are still different people and therefore it is better for us to break off relations, but let her come to visit us, and I, hopefully, will visit them. After all, I thought that Ursula was walking with another boy, and I treated her accordingly. It turns out that this is completely wrong. And now my uncle says that I owe her an apology, but of course I don't want to, and that's why I broke up with her, but that's just one of many reasons.

My grandmother now wants me to visit Ursula and not you, but I don’t want to and won’t! Old people sometimes have terribly outdated ideas, but I have nothing to consider with them. Of course, I depend on my grandparents, but in a sense they also need me. I'm now free on Wednesday evenings because my grandparents think I'm going to woodcarving classes, but in fact I'm going to a Zionist party club. I can’t go there because my grandparents are very against Zionism. I'm not a fanatic of this either, but I'm interested. Although there has been some confusion there lately, and I think I won’t go there anymore. I'll go there for the last time on Wednesday. This means we can see you on Wednesday evenings, Saturday afternoons and evenings, Sunday afternoons, and so on.

“But if your grandparents don’t want it, then you shouldn’t do it behind their back.”

“You can’t force love.”

When we passed the Blankevoort bookstore, Peter Schiff was standing there with two guys; for the first time in a long time he greeted me, and I was terribly happy.

On Monday evening, Hello came to us to meet my parents. I bought cake, sweets, tea and cookies, all sorts of things, but Hello and I were bored sitting side by side on chairs like that, we went for a walk, and only at ten minutes past nine he walked me home. Dad was terribly angry, he didn’t like it at all that I came back late, I had to promise that in the future I would come home at ten minutes to eight. This Saturday I was invited to Hello.

Vilma told me that Hello was with her one evening and she asked him:

– Who do you like better – Ursula or Anna?

Then he said:

- None of your business.

But when he left (they didn't talk to each other for the whole evening), he said:

“Of course, Anna, well, bye, just don’t tell anyone.”

And - hop, disappeared behind the door.

It's obvious that Hello is now in love with me, and for a change I like it. Margot would say, “Hello is a very suitable guy,” and I think she would say the same and even more. Mom is delighted with him. "Smart, polite and nice boy." I’m glad that our whole family liked Hello so much, but my friends, whom he considers perfect children, didn’t like him at all - and here he’s right. Jacques always teases me about Hello; I’m not in love at all, oh no, but I can have friends, who cares.

Anne Frank was born in 1929. She died in a concentration camp when she was 15 years old. Her diary, which she kept in Amsterdam while hiding from the Nazis with her family, became known to the whole world. Anne Frank kept a diary from June 12, 1942 to August 1, 1944. At first she wrote her letters only for herself - until the spring of 1944, when she heard on Radio Oranje (the radio station of the Dutch government in exile, broadcast from London) a speech by Bolkestein, the Minister of Education in the Dutch government in exile. The minister said that after the war, all evidence of the suffering of the Dutch people during the German occupation should be collected and published. For example, among other evidence, he named diaries. Impressed by this speech, Anna decided after the war to publish a book, the basis of which was to serve as her diary. She began to rewrite and rework her diary, making corrections, crossing out passages that did not seem very interesting to her, and adding others from memory. At the same time, she continued to keep the original diary, which in the 1986 scientific publication is called version “a”, in contrast to version “b” - the revised, second diary. Anna's last entry is dated August 1, 1944. On August 4, eight people hiding were arrested by the Green Police. This edition publishes the full text of the diary, approved by the Anne Frank Foundation in Basel.

Anne Frank's Diary

I hope that I can trust you with everything, as I have never trusted anyone before, and I hope that you will be a great support for me.

All this time, both you and Kitty, to whom I now write regularly, have been a great support to me. I find journaling this way much more enjoyable, and now I can't wait to write.

Oh, how glad I am that I took you with me!

SUNDAY, JUNE 14, 1942

I’ll start with how I received you, that is, how I saw you on the table among the gifts (because they bought you in front of me, but that doesn’t count).

On Friday, June 12, I woke up at six o’clock, and this is quite understandable - after all, it was my birthday. But it was impossible to get up at six in the morning, so I had to restrain my curiosity until a quarter to seven. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I went to the dining room, where Moortier, our cat, met me and began to caress me.

At the beginning of eight, I went to my dad and mom, and then to the living room to unwrap gifts, and the very first I saw was you, probably one of the best gifts. There was also a bouquet, two peonies. Dad and Mom gave me a blue blouse, a board game, a bottle of grape juice, which, in my opinion, tastes like wine (wine is made from grapes), a puzzle, a jar of cream, two and a half guilders and a voucher for two books. Then they gave me another book, “Camera Obscura,” but Margot already had one, and I replaced it, a plate of homemade cookies (I baked them myself, of course, because I’m great at baking cookies now), a lot of sweets, and a strawberry cake from moms. A letter from grandma arrived the same day, but this, of course, was an accident.

Then Hanneli came to pick me up and we went to school. At recess, I treated the teachers and children to butter cookies, and then we had to study again. I returned home at five o’clock because I went to physical education (although I’m actually exempt due to the fact that my arms and legs are dislocated) and I chose a game for my classmates in honor of my birthday - volleyball. Sanna Lederman was already waiting at home. After physical education, Ilse Wagner, Hanneli Hoslar and Jacqueline van Maarsen, girls from our class, came with me. I used to have two best friends, Hanneli and Sanna, and whoever saw us together always said: “There goes Anna, Hannah and Sanna.” I only met Jacqueline van Maarsen at the Jewish Lyceum, and now she is my best friend. Ilse is Hanneli's best friend, and Sanna is at another school, and she has her own friends there.

Our club gave me a wonderful book “Dutch Traditions and Legends”, but by mistake they gave me the second volume, and so I exchanged the other two books for the first part. Aunt Helena brought another puzzle, Aunt Stephanie a pretty brooch, and Aunt Leni a wonderful book, Daisy's Mountain Vacation. This morning I was sitting in the bath and thinking about how wonderful it would be if I had a dog like Rin-Tin-Tin. I would also call her Rin-Tin-Tin, and she was always at the school with the concierge, and in good weather in the bicycle room.

MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1942

On Sunday afternoon they celebrated my birth. Rin-Tin-Tin was very much to the taste of my classmates. They gave me two brooches, a bookmark and two books. But first I'll tell you something about the class and the school, and I'll start with the students.

Betty Bloemendaal looks a little poor, I think she is, she lives on Jan Klaasenstraat somewhere in the western part of the city and none of us know where that is. She studies very well, but only because she is so diligent, because now it is clear that her abilities leave much to be desired. She's a pretty quiet girl.

Jacqueline van Maarsen is considered my best friend, although I have never had a real friend. At first I thought that Jacques would become her, but it didn’t turn out that way.

D.K. is a very nervous girl, she always forgets something and gets one work penalty after another. She is very good-natured, especially with H.Z.

E.S. is such a chatterbox that it’s simply impossible to stand her. If she asks about something, she will definitely start twirling your buttons with her fingers or tugging at your hair. They say that E. can’t stand me, but this doesn’t upset me at all, because I don’t like her either.

Henny Mets is a cheerful and sweet girl, but she speaks terribly loudly, and when she plays on the street, she acts like a little girl.

It’s a pity that Henny is friends with one girl, Beppi, who has a very bad influence on her, because this Beppi is terribly mean and dirty.

You can write essays about J.R. Y. is a braggart, a gossip, nasty, pretends to be an adult, insidious, hypocritical. It's a pity that she managed to get her hands on Jacques. Y. cries for every reason, is afraid of pain and is a terrible primp. Our lawyer J. is always right. She's a terribly rich girl, and her closet is full of pretty dresses, but they're too old-fashioned. She imagines herself to be a beauty, although in reality the situation is quite the opposite. Y. and I simply can’t stand each other.

Ilse Wagner is a cheerful and great girl, but she is too meticulous and can be boring for hours. Ilsa is quite attached to me. Actually, she's smart, but lazy.

Hanneli Hoslar, or Lis, as she is called at school, is a wonderful girl, usually so shy, but at home she is terribly rude. Everything they tell her, she blurts out to her mother. But she expresses her opinion frankly, and I treat her very well, especially lately.

Nanny van Praach-Seehaar is a funny, small, smart girl. I like her. She's pretty pretty. There's not much to say about her.

Efje de Jong, in my opinion, is simply inimitable. She just turned twelve, but she's a real lady. She treats me like I'm a baby. She is also always ready to help, and that's why I like her.

Kh.Z. is the most beautiful girl in our class. She has a cute face, but she's pretty dumb in class. I think they will keep her for a second year, but of course I don’t tell her about that.

(ADD)

Kh.Z., to my great surprise, was not retained for a second year.

And to conclude the story about our twelve girls, I’m sitting with Kh.Z.

You can talk a lot about boys, but it will still not be enough.

Maurice Koster is one of my many fans, but he is a rather boring guy.

Sally Springer is an incredible vulgar man, and there is a rumor that he has mated with someone. Still, I think he’s a wonderful guy because he’s terribly funny.

Emil Bonewit is a fan of H.Z., although she doesn’t really care. He's pretty boring.

Rob Cohen had a crush on me too, but now I can't stand him anymore. This is a hypocritical, deceitful, whiny, strange and boring boy, he pretends to be an awful lot.

Max van de Velde is from a farming family in Medemblik, but he is, as Margot would say, quite suitable.

Herman Koopman is also terribly vulgar, as is Jopi de Beer - a terrible suitor and womanizer.

Leo Blom is Jopie de Beer's bosom friend and has picked up his vulgar habits from him.

Albert de Mesquita transferred from Montessori School Number Six and skipped one grade. Terribly smart.

Leo Slaher also came to us from this school, but he is not as smart.

Ryu Stoppelmon, a small and strange boy from Almelo, later transferred to our school.

K.N. does everything that should not be done.

Jacques Kokernoot is sitting behind us with Pam and we are just dying of laughter (H. and I).

Harry Schaap is the most decent boy in our class, he is quite pleasant.

The same could be said about Werner Joseph, but he is a big quiet person and therefore seems boring.

Salomon himself is a kind of back-alley bully, a nasty guy. (Fan!)

Api Rome is quite religious, but also rubbish.

This is where I end. Next time I will have so much to write to you, which means I will tell you so much. Bye, you are so wonderful!

SATURDAY, JUNE 20, 1942

It’s such an unusual feeling for a girl like me to keep a diary! And not just because I’ve never written before. It seems to me that later neither myself nor anyone else will be interested in the confessions of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. But in fact, this is not so important, I just want to write, and moreover, to express frankly and absolutely everything that is in my soul.

“Paper is more patient than people.” This saying came to mind on one of the sad days when I was sitting with my head in my hands, and out of lethargy I couldn’t decide whether to go for a walk or stay at home, and in the end I just sat there thinking in one place. Indeed, paper will endure anything, and since I am not going to show this cardboard-bound notebook to anyone, which bears the pompous name “diary,” unless someday a friend or girlfriend appears in my life and becomes a real friend or girlfriend, then who cares.

So I’ve come to the most important thing, where the idea of ​​keeping a diary came from: I don’t have a real friend. To make it completely clear, this would need to be explained, because no one will understand that a thirteen-year-old girl is completely alone in the whole wide world. Of course, this is not true. I have lovely parents and a sixteen-year-old sister; in total, I have at least thirty acquaintances and so-called girlfriends. I have a lot of fans, they don’t take their eyes off me, and during lessons, when there is nothing else left, they try to catch my gaze in a fragment of a mirror. I have relatives, nice aunts and a good home. To look from the outside - what else am I missing, besides a real friend. With all my friends you can only fool around; I can never talk to them about anything other than trifles. Frankness with them is impossible, that's the main thing. Maybe something in me prevents me from being frank with others, but the fact remains a fact, and, unfortunately, nothing can be done about it. That's why the diary.

But in order for me to have before my eyes a real girlfriend, whom I have been dreaming of for so long, I will not, as everyone else does, write down various facts in my diary; I want this notebook to become my friend, and I will call this friend Kitty.

Story of my life! (Idiot, how could I forget that.) No one will understand anything if you suddenly start corresponding with Kitty out of the blue, so I’ll tell you briefly about my biography, although without pleasure.

My dad, the most amazing father I've ever met, married my mom, who was 25 at the time, when he was 36. My sister Margot was born in 1926 in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. On June 12, 1929, I appeared. I lived in Frankfurt until I was four years old. We are pure Jews, so my father left for Holland in 1933. He became director of the Dutch joint stock company for the production of jam - Opekta. My mother, Edith Frank-Hollender, also went to Holland in September, and Margot and I went to Aachen, where our grandmother lived. In December, Margot went to Holland, and they brought me in February and put me on the table as a gift for Margot’s birthday. Soon I went to kindergarten at Montessori school number six. I stayed there until I was six years old, then I went to first grade. In the sixth grade I went to the headmistress Mefrau Kuperus. At the end of the school year, we said goodbye very touchingly and both cried, because I had to transfer to the Jewish Lyceum, where Margot was already studying.

There was quite a lot of anxiety in our lives, since our relatives who remained in Germany were not immune to Hitler’s laws against the Jews. After the pogroms of 1938, my two uncles, my mother’s brothers, fled and arrived safely in North America, and my old grandmother came to us. She was then seventy-three years old.

After May 1940, the good times came to an end: first the war, then the capitulation, the German invasion, and for us Jews, suffering began. Laws against Jews followed one after another, and our freedom was sharply limited. Jews must wear a yellow star; Jews must hand over their bicycles; Jews are not allowed to ride on trams; Jews are not allowed to ride in cars, even private ones; Jews can only shop from three to five; Jews are only allowed to go to a Jewish hairdresser; Jews are not allowed to go out after eight in the evening and before six in the morning; Jews are not allowed to appear in theaters, cinemas, or any other places of entertainment; Jews are not allowed to go to the swimming pool, tennis court, hockey field, or other sports grounds; Jews are not allowed to engage in rowing, Jews are generally not allowed to engage in any sports in public places; after eight in the evening, Jews are not allowed to sit either in their own garden or in the garden of their friends; Jews are not allowed to visit Christians; Jewish children must go to Jewish schools, and so on and so forth. This is how our life continued, and we were forbidden one thing or another. Jacques always tells me: “I’m afraid to take on something: what if it’s forbidden?”

In the summer of 1941, my grandmother became seriously ill. She had to have surgery and my birthday wasn't particularly good. In the summer of 1940, too, because the war in Holland had just ended. Grandmother died in January 1942. No one knows how much I think about her and how much I still love her. We celebrated this birthday in 1942 to make up for all the previous ones, and my grandmother’s candle stood next to the others.

All is well with the four of us so far, and thus I come to today and the date that marks the opening of my diary, June 20, 1942.

SATURDAY, JUNE 20, 1942

Dear Kitty!

I'll get down to business right away; Now everything is quiet and calm, mom and dad left, and Margo and some guys went to play ping-pong with her friend Tres. I’ve also been playing ping pong an awful lot lately, so much so that five girls and I even started a club. The club is called Ursa Minor Minus Two. A terribly strange name, but that's because of one mistake. We wanted to give the club an unusual name and decided, since there are five of us, to call it “Ursa Minor Constellation.” We thought that it consisted of five stars, but we were mistaken; it, like the Big Dipper, consists of seven. That's why it's minus two. Ilse Wagner has ping-pong, and the large Wagner dining room is always at our disposal. Since we five ping pong players really love ice cream, especially in the summer, and playing makes us hot, each game usually ends with a trip to one of the nearest ice cream shops where Jews can go - Oasis or Delphi. We no longer care at all whether we have money or not, because the Oasis is always full of people and among all these people there will certainly be some generous gentleman from the vast circle of our acquaintances, or one or another of our admirers who offers us so much You can't eat enough ice cream in a week.

I think you’ll be a little surprised that at my age I’m already talking about fans. Unfortunately, or in some cases, not unfortunately at all, this seems to be a necessary evil in our school. As soon as one of the boys asks if he can walk me home on his bike and starts a conversation with me, then nine times out of ten I can be sure that the aforementioned young man has a bad habit of immediately falling head over heels in love and will not leave me alone not a single step. Gradually he cools down, especially if I don’t pay attention to his ardent glances and pedal cheerfully. Sometimes, when I get tired of this, I deliberately wobble the steering wheel, my briefcase falls, and the young man, out of decency, has to jump off and pick it up, and by the time he brings the briefcase, I manage to change the topic of conversation. These are the most harmless ones, and there are, of course, those who blow kisses or try to grab his hand, but then they certainly attacked the wrong one: I get off the bike and refuse to be in his company anymore, or I look offended and tell him in the strongest possible terms, to tell him to go home.

Well, the foundation of our friendship has been laid, see you tomorrow.

Your Anna SUNDAY, JUNE 21, 1942

Dear Kitty!

Our whole class is shaking with fear. Of course, regarding the upcoming teachers' council. Half the class is betting on who will transfer and who will stay for the second year. H.Z. and I laugh until we cry at the two boys who are sitting on the desk behind us, K.N. and Jacques Kokernoot, who squandered all the capital they earned during the holidays: “They will transfer - no, they will leave - no, they will transfer...” - and so from morning to evening, even X.’s glances begging him to shut up, and my angry attacks cannot calm these two down. In my opinion, they will keep a quarter of the class for the second year, they are such idiots, but teachers are the most capricious people in the world, maybe this time, as an exception, their capriciousness is to our advantage.

I’m not really afraid for myself and my friends, everything will be fine with us. I'm just not confident in math. Well, let's wait. While we encourage each other. I have pretty good relationships with all the teachers. We have nine of them - seven men and two women. Mener Keesing, a leading mathematician, at one time was terribly angry with me because I talk so much. One remark followed another, and then he assigned me work as punishment - an essay on the topic “Chatterbox.” “Chatterbox”... Well, what can you write here. But before I began to rack my brains, I wrote down the task in a notebook, put it in my bag and tried to remain silent.

In the evening, when all the homework was done, I noticed a note about the essay. I chewed on my pen and thought about this topic. Anyone can simply write whatever they want and scatter the lines as widely as possible. But finding indisputable evidence in favor of chatter is where the art lies. I thought and thought, and suddenly it dawned on me; I completed the assigned three pages and was satisfied. I argued that chatter is inherent in women and that I, of course, will try to restrain myself a little, but I will probably never wean myself off it, because my mother talks as much as me, if not more, and it is almost useless to fight against heredity.

Mener Keesing laughed a lot at my arguments, but when in his next lesson I started chatting again, he assigned me a second essay. This time it was called "Incorrigible Chatterbox." I wrote this to him too, and in two lessons Keesing had nothing to complain about. And on the third, my chatter again infuriated him. “Anne Frank, as punishment for chatting, an essay on the theme “Quack-quack-quack,” said the duffrau Duck!”

The class burst into laughter. Willy-nilly, I also laughed along with everyone, although my research abilities in the field of chatter were exhausted. We had to find something new, very original. My friend Sanna, a wonderful poetess, offered her help - to write an essay from beginning to end in verse. I was delighted. Keesing wanted to ridicule me with this stupid essay, but with my poem I will ridicule him threefold.

The poems turned out amazing! It was about a mother duck, a father swan, and three ducklings whose father pecked them to death because they quacked too much. Fortunately, Keesing liked the joke and read the poems with commentary in our class and in other classes. Since then, I can chat as much as I like and no penalties; on the contrary, Keesing now always makes jokes.

Your Anna WEDNESDAY, JUNE 24, 1942

Dear Kitty!

It’s unbearably hot, everyone is puffing and puffing, and in this heat I have to get everywhere on foot. Only now I appreciated what a good thing the tram is, especially with open carriages, but it is now forbidden fruit for us Jews, all we can do is run on our own two feet. Yesterday I had to go to the dentist on Jan-Lukenstraat during a long break. It is far from our school, on Stadstimmertynen. That's why I almost fell asleep during the day at school. Fortunately, people themselves offered me something to drink. The dental assistant is actually a very warm person.

The only thing we can still use is the ferry. The ferryman at Josef-Israelskad immediately took us as soon as we asked to be transported. The Dutch, of course, are not to blame for the fact that we Jews have such a bad time. If only I didn’t have to go to school, my bicycle was stolen on Easter, and my dad gave my mother’s bicycle for safekeeping to Christian friends. But fortunately, the holidays are approaching quickly, another week and the torment will end.

Something nice happened yesterday morning. I was walking past a bicycle rack when someone called out to me. I turned around and saw that standing behind me was a handsome guy whom I had met the night before at Vilma’s. He is her second cousin, and Vilma is my friend. At first she seemed very nice to me. That's true, but she talks about boys all day and nothing else, and it's starting to get boring. The guy came up, a little shy, and introduced himself: Hello Silberberh. I was a little surprised and didn’t really understand what he needed, but everything soon became clear. He wanted to keep me company and take me to school. “If it’s on your way, let’s go,” I answered, and we went together. Hello is already sixteen years old, and he tells all sorts of stories very sweetly.

This morning he was waiting for me again, and will probably continue like this from now on.

Anna WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 1942

Dear Kitty!

Until today, I absolutely couldn’t find the time to write to you. On Thursday I spent the whole day with friends, on Friday guests came to us, and so on until today.

During this week, Hello and I got to know each other better, he told me a lot about his life. He came from Gelsenkirchen and lives here in Holland, without his parents, with his grandparents. His parents live in Belgium, but it is impossible for him to go there. Hello had a girl, Ursula. I know her too, she is a model of meekness and boredom. Ever since Hello met me, he realized that he was bored out of his mind with Ursula. So I'm a kind of anti-sleeping pill, you never know what you'll come in for!

Jacques spent the night with me on Saturday. In the afternoon she went to Hanneli, and I missed her to death.

Hello was supposed to come to me in the evening, but around six he called. I answered the phone and he said:

– Helmut Silberberch speaks. Please, can I call Anna?

- Yes, Hello, this is Anna.

- Hello Anna. How are you doing?

- OK, thank you.

– I wanted to tell you that, unfortunately, I won’t be able to come today, but still I would like to talk to you. Can I come to your house in ten minutes?

- Okay, bye!

- Bye, I'll be right there.

After hanging up, I quickly changed my clothes and straightened my hair a little. Then, excitedly, she leaned out of the window. Finally he came. Miracle of miracles - I did not rush headlong up the stairs, but calmly waited for him to call. I went downstairs, and without letting me come to my senses, he blurted out:

– Listen, Anna, my grandmother thinks that you are still too young to date. She says I need to go to the Loewenbachs, but you probably know that I am no longer dating Ursula.

- Why, are you in a quarrel?

- No, on the contrary. I told Ursula that we are still different people and therefore it is better for us to break off relations, but let her come to visit us, and I, hopefully, will visit them. After all, I thought that Ursula was walking with another boy, and I treated her accordingly. It turns out that this is completely wrong. And now my uncle says that I owe her an apology, but of course I don't want to, and that's why I broke up with her, but that's just one of many reasons.

My grandmother now wants me to visit Ursula and not you, but I don’t want to and won’t! Old people sometimes have terribly outdated ideas, but I have nothing to consider with them. Of course, I depend on my grandparents, but in a sense they also need me. I'm now free on Wednesday evenings because my grandparents think I'm going to woodcarving classes, but in fact I'm going to a Zionist party club. I can’t go there because my grandparents are very against Zionism. I'm not a fanatic of this either, but I'm interested. Although there has been some confusion there lately, and I think I won’t go there anymore. I'll go there for the last time on Wednesday. This means we can see you on Wednesday evenings, Saturday afternoons and evenings, Sunday afternoons, and so on.

“But if your grandparents don’t want it, then you shouldn’t do it behind their back.”

“You can’t force love.”

When we passed the Blankevoort bookstore, Peter Schiff was standing there with two guys; for the first time in a long time he greeted me, and I was terribly happy.

On Monday evening, Hello came to us to meet my parents. I bought cake, sweets, tea and cookies, all sorts of things, but Hello and I were bored sitting side by side on chairs like that, we went for a walk, and only at ten minutes past nine he walked me home. Dad was terribly angry, he didn’t like it at all that I came back late, I had to promise that in the future I would come home at ten minutes to eight. This Saturday I was invited to Hello.

Vilma told me that Hello was with her one evening and she asked him:

– Who do you like better – Ursula or Anna?

Then he said:

- None of your business.

But when he left (they didn't talk to each other for the whole evening), he said:

“Of course, Anna, well, bye, just don’t tell anyone.”

And - hop, disappeared behind the door.

It's obvious that Hello is now in love with me, and for a change I like it. Margot would say, “Hello is a very suitable guy,” and I think she would say the same and even more. Mom is delighted with him. "Smart, polite and nice boy." I’m glad that our whole family liked Hello so much, but my friends, whom he considers perfect children, didn’t like him at all - and here he’s right. Jacques always teases me about Hello; I’m not in love at all, oh no, but I can have friends, who cares.

Mom still asks who I would like to marry in the future, but I think she would never guess who Peter is, because when it comes to him, I don’t show it. I love Peter as much as I have never loved anyone before, and I constantly convince myself that Peter is hanging out with all these girls just to hide his feelings. Perhaps now it also seems to him that Hello and I are in love with each other. But that's not true. He's just one of my friends, or, as my mother puts it, a gentleman.

Your Anna SUNDAY, JULY 5, 1942

Dear Kitty!

The annual performance on Friday at the Jewish Theater went great, my report card is not that bad at all, there is only one “fail”, in algebra - five, the rest are all sevens, two eights and two sixes. Everyone at home is happy, but my parents are not at all like other parents when it comes to grades; they never care whether my grades are bad or good; it is much more important that I be healthy, cheerful and not too rude. As long as these three things are in order, the rest will take care of itself.

But I’m the opposite, I wouldn’t want to be a bad student. I was accepted into the lyceum conditionally, because in general I had to stay in the 7th grade of Montessori school number six, but when all Jewish children had to go to Jewish schools, Menher Elte, after short negotiations, accepted me and Lis Hoslar conditionally . Fox was also transferred, but with a difficult re-exam in geometry.

Poor Fox, it’s almost impossible for her to study properly at home; Her little sister, a spoiled child of about two years old, plays in her room all day long. Gabi yells until she gets her way, and if the Fox doesn’t deal with her then, then Mefrau Khoslar will yell. This makes it impossible for Lis to study properly, and although she takes extra lessons all the time, they don’t help much either. Well, the Hoslars' house is in order! Mefrau Khoslar's parents live in the next building, but they also eat there. Then there was the servant, the baby, Menzher Khoslar, always absent-minded and with an absent look, and Mefrau, always nervous and irritated, and again in a position. In this “Jan Steen’s house” the Fox, already clumsy, is completely lost. My sister Margot also received her report card, brilliant as always. If we gave awards “with honors”, she would definitely receive them - she’s so smart!

Dad has been at home a lot lately; he has nothing else to do in the office. It’s a terrible feeling to suddenly find yourself redundant. Mener Kleiman took over Opekta from him, and Mener Kugler took over His and Co., a surrogate spice company that was founded only in 1941.

The other day, when my dad and I were walking in our park, he started talking to me about shelter. He said that it would be very difficult for us to live completely cut off from the world. I asked why he was talking about this now.

“You know, Anna,” he said to this, “that we have been bringing clothes, furniture and food to our friends for more than a year now.” We do not want to leave our property to the Germans, much less fall into their hands. Therefore, we will leave ourselves, without waiting for them to pick us up.

- But, dad, when?

I was scared, my dad had such a serious face.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll arrange everything ourselves, enjoy a carefree life while you can.”

That's all. Oh, if only these gloomy words would not come true for as long as possible!

They just called, Hello arrived, I'm finishing.

Your Anna WEDNESDAY, JULY 8, 1942

Dear Kitty!

It felt like years had passed between Sunday morning and today. So much has happened, as if the earth had suddenly turned upside down, but Kitty, as you can see, I’m still alive, and that, according to dad, is the most important thing. Yes, indeed, I live, just don’t ask how and where. You probably don’t understand me at all today, so I’ll have to first tell you everything that happened on Sunday. At three o’clock (Hello had just left and was about to return) someone rang the doorbell, I didn’t hear it because I was lazily sunbathing on a sun lounger on the veranda and reading. A little later, an excited Margot appeared at the kitchen door.

“Dad was sent a summons from the SS,” she whispered. “Mom has already gone to see Mr. Van Daan.” (Van Daan is a good friend of his father and his companion.)

I was terribly scared. Subpoena, everyone knows what that means. Concentration camps and solitary confinement cells immediately appeared before me, are we really going to allow dad to be sent there?

“Of course, he won’t go,” Margot said when we were sitting in the room with her and waiting for my mother. “Mom went to the Van Daans to ask if we could go to our shelter tomorrow.” The Van Daans will also go with us. Then the seven of us will be there.

Silence. We could no longer talk, the thought of my father, who, suspecting nothing, went to visit someone in the Jewish almshouse, waiting for my mother, the heat, the tension - from all this we were completely speechless.

Suddenly the call rang again.

“It’s Hello,” I said.

“Don’t open it,” Margo restrained me, but the precaution was in vain: we heard the voices of mother and Menier Van Daan, they were talking downstairs with Hello, then they entered the house and locked the doors behind them. At every call, Margot or I now had to sneak downstairs and see if it was Dad; We didn't let others in. Margot and I were sent out of the room; Van Daan wanted to talk to his mother alone.

When Margot and I were sitting in our bedroom, she told me that the summons came not to dad, but to her. I got scared again and cried. Margot is sixteen years old, which means these are the young girls they want to send away without their parents? But fortunately, she won’t leave us, mom said so herself, and, probably, dad also prepared me for exactly this when he talked to me about shelter. What kind of shelter? Where can we hide? In a city, in a village, in some house, in a hut - when, how, where?.. It was impossible to ask all these questions, but they were constantly spinning in my head.

Margot and I began packing the essentials into our school bag. First of all, I took this cardboard notebook, then curlers, handkerchiefs, textbooks, a comb, old letters. I thought about how we would hide, and that’s why I stuffed all sorts of nonsense into my bag, but I don’t mind: memories are more valuable than dresses.

At five o'clock dad finally returned, we called Menir Kleiman and asked him to come over in the evening. Van Daan went after Miep. Miep came, put shoes, dresses, jackets, underwear and stockings in a bag and promised to come again in the evening. Then it became quiet in our apartment, none of the four of us wanted to eat, it was still hot, and everything was terribly unusual.

We rent our large upper room to a certain Mesher Goldschmidt, a divorced man in his thirties, who apparently had nothing to do that evening; That's why he stayed with us until ten, and there was no way to survive him.

At eleven Miep and Jan Heath arrived. Miep has been working for her father in the company since 1933 and has become a close friend, as has her newly-made husband Jan. Shoes, stockings, books and underwear began to disappear again from Miep's bag and Jan's deep pockets; at half past twelve they themselves disappeared.

I was half to death tired, and although I knew that I was sleeping in my own bed for the last night, I immediately fell asleep, and at half past five in the morning my mother woke me up. Luckily it wasn't as hot as Sunday. It rained warmly all day. All four of us put on so much warm clothing that it was as if we were going to spend the night in the refrigerator. But we needed to take as many clothes as possible with us. In our situation, no Jew would dare leave the house with a suitcase full of clothes. I was wearing two shirts, three pants, a dress, and on top a skirt, a jacket, a summer coat, two pairs of stockings, winter boots, a hat, a scarf and much more, I almost suffocated at home, but no one was in the mood for that.

Margo filled her briefcase with textbooks, took her bike from the parking lot and followed Miep into a distance unknown to me. I still didn’t know where our mysterious destination was.

At half past seven we locked the door behind us; the only creature I had to say goodbye to was Moortje, my little kitty, who had to find shelter with the neighbors, a request for this was in a note addressed to Messer Goldschmidt.

Unmade beds, the remains of breakfast on the table, a pound of meat for the cat in the kitchen - all this gave the impression that we were running at breakneck speed. But we didn't care what people said. We wanted to leave, just leave and get to the place safely, nothing more. I'll continue tomorrow.

Your Anna THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1942

Dear Kitty!

So we walked in the pouring rain: dad, mom and I, each with a briefcase and a shopping bag, stuffed to the brim with anything. The workers who drove to work early looked at us sympathetically; it was clear from their faces how sorry they were that they couldn’t give us a lift somehow; the yellow star caught everyone's eye and spoke for itself.

Only on the way did I little by little learn from my parents the whole plan of the shelter. For many months now they have been moving as much of our furniture and clothing as possible to safety. Everything was prepared, and on the sixteenth of July we had to hide. But because of this agenda, the shelter plan had to be implemented ten days earlier, and we had to come to terms with the fact that the premises were not yet fully prepared.

The Shelter itself is located in Dad's office. This is a little difficult for outsiders to understand, so I will explain in more detail. Dad has a few employees: Mensher Kügler, Kleiman and Miep, then also Bep Voskuijl, a twenty-three-year-old stenographer. They all knew about our arrival. We didn’t say anything to Mener Voskuijl, Bep’s father, or two other warehouse workers.

The plan of the house is this: on the ground floor there is a large warehouse, also known as a warehouse. It, in turn, is divided into various rooms, such as the room where cinnamon, cloves, pepper surrogate are ground, and a pantry. Next to the door to the warehouse is the usual front door of the house, which through another passage door leads to the stairs. If you climb it, you will find yourself in front of a door with frosted glass, on which was once written in black letters: “Office”. It's a big front office, very big, very bright, all filled with things. During the day Bep, Miep and Menzher Kleiman work there. Through an office with a fireproof cabinet, a wardrobe and a large closet with supplies, you enter a small, stuffy, darkish back room, where Menger Kugler and Menher Van Daan used to sit, and now only the first one remains. From the corridor there is also an entrance directly into Kugler's office, but only through a glass door that can be opened from the inside, and from the outside only with a key. From Kügler's office, along a long narrow corridor along the nook where the coal is stored, you climb four steps and enter the pride of the entire building - the director's office. There is dark, solid furniture, linoleum and carpets on the floor, a radio, a luxurious lamp - in a word, luxurious! Next to it is a large spacious kitchen with titanium, two gas stoves, and then a restroom. This is all on the second floor. From the lower corridor, a regular wooden staircase leads upstairs. There is a small platform at the top. To the right and left of it are doors. The left one leads to the front of the house with the warehouse premises, the front attic and the front attic. On the other side of the building from the front of the house, another long, terribly steep, leg-breaking Dutch staircase leads to a second exit to the street.

To the right of the site is the “Back House”. No one would have thought that so many rooms were hidden behind this simple, gray-painted door. There is a step in front of the door, and there you are. Immediately opposite this entrance there is a steep flight of stairs. To the left is a small corridor and a room that should serve as a living room and bedroom for the Frank family, and next to it there is another, smaller one: this is the bedroom and classroom of the Frank young ladies. To the right of the stairs is a windowless room with a washbasin and a separate toilet. From the little room there is a door to Margot and I’s bedroom. When you go up the stairs and open the door at the top, you are simply surprised that in such an old canal house you suddenly find such a large, bright and airy room. This room contains a stove (due to the former location of Kügler's laboratory) and a table for washing dishes. This means that there will be a kitchen and at the same time a bedroom for the Van Daan couple, a common living room, a dining room and an office. The tiny walk-through closet will be Peter Van Daan's apartment. There is also an attic and loft, just like in the front of the house. You see, so I described to you our entire wonderful Back House!

Your Anna FRIDAY, JULY 10, 1942

Dear Kitty!

It’s very possible that I’ve bored you terribly with long descriptions of our home. But you must know where I landed! You will learn how I landed in all my next letters.

First, a continuation of my story, because, as you know, I haven’t told you everything yet. When we arrived at 263 Prinsenhracht, Miep immediately led us down a long corridor, up a wooden staircase, straight up to the Back House. She locked the doors behind us and we were left alone. Margot arrived on her bike much earlier and was already waiting for us. Our living room, and all the other rooms, were so filled with junk - it’s impossible to describe! All the cardboard boxes that had been sent to the office in previous months were on the floor and on the beds. The small room was piled to the ceiling with bed linen. We had to immediately start cleaning if we wanted to go to bed in the evening in more or less made beds. Mom and Margot couldn't lift a finger. They lay on bare beds, tired, exhausted and God knows what else, but dad and I, the main “cleaners” in the family, wanted to get down to business right away.

We spent the whole day unpacking boxes, putting them on shelves, banging with a hammer and cleaning until in the evening, mortally tired, we fell into clean beds. We didn't eat anything hot all day, but we didn't care. Mom and Margot were too tired and frazzled to eat, and Dad and I had too much work to do. On Tuesday morning we started from what we did not finish on Monday. Bep and Miep bought food with our cards, dad adjusted the darkening where it was not enough, we scrubbed the kitchen floor and again worked from morning to evening. Until Wednesday, I barely even had time to think about the huge upheaval that had taken place in my life. And only on Wednesday, for the first time since our arrival at the Shelter, I found the opportunity to tell you everything and at the same time fully understand what happened to me and what could still happen.

Your Anna SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1942

Dear Kitty!

Dad, Mom and Margot still can't get used to the sound of the Westertoren bell, which tells them what time it is every quarter of an hour. And I - yes, I really liked it right away, especially at night, it somehow calms me down. You probably really want to know if I like it in our Shelter. To be honest, I don’t know yet. It seems to me that I will never feel at home here, but by this I do not mean to say that I am creepy here; most likely, it seems to me that I ended up in some very peculiar boarding house for the holidays. Quite a strange look at the Vault, but nothing can be done. The Back House is an ideal place for hiding, although it is damp and the walls are slanted, yet in all of Amsterdam, and, perhaps, in all of Holland, those who want to hide cannot build a more convenient hiding place.

Until now, our room with empty walls looked completely bare. Fortunately, dad had already grabbed my entire collection of postcards and movie stars, and with the help of glue and a brush I turned the entire wall of the room into a picture, so that the appearance became much more fun, and when the Van Daans come, we will make it out of the boards that are lying on attic, closets and other cute things. Margot and mom came to their senses again. Yesterday my mother decided to cook pea soup for the first time, but while she was talking downstairs, she forgot about the soup, which burned completely; the peas were completely charred and could not be removed from the pan.

Last night, the four of us went down to the director's office and turned on an English radio program. I was terribly afraid that someone might hear us, and I simply begged my dad to come back upstairs with me. Mom understood my fear and went up with me. In general, we are very worried that our neighbors will hear or see us. On the very first day we sewed curtains; in fact, they cannot be called curtains, they are just several separate unattractive scraps of different shapes, quality and patterns, which my dad and I sewed crookedly in a terribly unprofessional manner. These luxurious curtains were attached with snaps to the window frames, and while we are here they will not be removed.

To the right of our house is a branch of the company from Zaandam, “Kech”, to the left is a furniture workshop, which means that these people leave at the end of the working day, but noise can still get in there. So we stopped Margot from coughing at night, even though she had a terrible cold, and we gave her huge amounts of codeine.

I am extremely excited about the arrival of the Van Daans, which is scheduled for Tuesday. It will become much more comfortable and not so quiet. It is the silence that makes me very nervous in the evenings and at night; I would give anything to have one of our defenders spend the night with us. It’s not so terrible here at all, because we can cook here ourselves and listen to the radio downstairs in daddy’s office. Mener Kleiman, and Miep, and Bep Voskuijl too, they helped us so much! We've already eaten rhubarb, strawberries and cherries, and I don't think we'll be bored here for the first time. We also have a lot to read, and we will also buy a lot of board games. Of course, we are not allowed to go outside or look out the window at all. We also have to be very quiet so that they don’t hear us downstairs.

Yesterday we had a lot of work; we had to pit two baskets of cherries for the office. Mener Kügler wanted to preserve cherries. We will make shelves for books from cherry boxes.

They just called me.

Your Anna SEPTEMBER 28, 1942 (ADD)

The fact that we are not allowed to go out at all depresses me more than I can express, and I am terribly afraid that we might be discovered and shot. This is, of course, not a very pleasant prospect.

SUNDAY, JULY 12, 1942

On this same day, a month ago, they were all so nice to me because it was my birthday, but now I feel more and more every day how I am moving away from my mother and Margot. Today I worked hard, and everyone praised me madly, and five minutes later they scold me again.

You can clearly see the difference in how they treat Margot and how they treat me. Margo, for example, broke the vacuum cleaner, and so we have no light all day. Mom said: “Aber, Margot, man sieht, daß du keine Arbeit gewohnt bist, sonst hättest du gewußt, daß man einen Staubsauger nicht an der Schnur rauszieht.” Margot answered something, and that was the end of the story.

But this afternoon I wanted to copy something from my mother's grocery list, since my mother's handwriting is terribly illegible, but she did not want it, and I immediately received a severe reprimand again, in which the whole family took part.

I'm not right for them, and I can see it clearly, especially lately. They get so sentimental with each other, but I prefer to give vent to my feelings when I'm alone. And then they also say that the four of us are so good and that we approach each other so harmoniously, but the fact that I feel it completely differently, they don’t think about it for a moment.

Only dad sometimes understands me, but most often he is on the side of mom and Margot. And I also can’t stand it when they talk in front of strangers about how I cried and how smart I am, it seems terrible to me, and sometimes they talk about Moortje, and I can’t stand this at all, because this is my vulnerable and weakness. I miss Moortier every minute, and no one knows how much I think about her. Every time I think about her, my eyes fill with tears. Moortier is so sweet and I love her so much, and I even make plans in my dreams for her to come back again.

I always dream so wonderfully about being here, but the reality is that we have to be here until the war is over. We are never allowed to go outside, and only Miep, her husband Jan, Bep Voskuijl, Menzher Voskuijl, Menzher Kugler, Menzher Kleiman and Mefrau Kleiman can come to us, but she does not come because she considers it too dangerous.

SEPTEMBER 1942 (ADD)

Daddy is always so sweet. He understands me absolutely, and I would like to talk to him openly at least once, just not immediately burst into tears. But they say it's because of my age. I would like to write all the time, but then it would be too boring.

Until now, I wrote down mostly just thoughts in my notebook, but never got around to interesting stories that I could later read to someone. But in the future, I’d rather not, or I’ll express my feelings less and stick to reality more.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 14, 1942

Dear Kitty!

I left you for a whole month, but we don’t have so much new to tell you something interesting every day. On July 13 the Van Daans arrived. We thought it would be on the fourteenth, but since the Germans, between July 13 and 16, pestered people more and more and sent summons everywhere, the Van Daans decided that it was safer to come a day earlier than a day later.

In the morning, at half past nine (we were still having breakfast), Peter Van Daan arrived, a rather boring and shy big guy, who was not yet sixteen and whose company did not promise much. Half an hour later Mefrau and Menher Van Daan appeared, she, to our general delight, with a large chamber pot in a hat box. “I don’t feel at home anywhere without a potty,” she explained, and the potty was the first item to find a home under the sofa bed. Mener did not bring a pot, but he did have a folding tea table under his arm.

On the first day of our existence together, we ate together amicably, and after three days we felt as if we had become one big family. Needless to say, the Van Daans had a lot more to tell about the week they spent in the Promised Land after us. Besides everything else, we were especially interested in finding out what happened to our apartment and to Menger Goldschmidt.

Mener Van Daan said: “On Monday at nine o’clock in the morning Mener Goldschmidt called us and asked if I could come over for a while. I immediately went and found him in great excitement. He showed me the note that the Frank family had left, and was going to, following the instructions in it, take the cat to the neighbors, with which I completely agreed. He was afraid of being searched, so we went through all the rooms, tidied up a little and cleared the table. Suddenly I discovered on Mefrau Frank’s desk a notebook in which the address in Maastricht was written down. Although I knew that Mefrau left it deliberately, I pretended to be terribly surprised and frightened, and began to beg Menir Goldschmidt to certainly burn this unfortunate piece of paper. I always tried to show that I knew nothing about your disappearance, but after I saw this piece of paper, a good idea came to my mind. “Meaner Goldschmidt,” I said, “now I suddenly realized what this address could mean. I remember that about six months ago a high-ranking officer came to our office, as it turned out, a close childhood friend of Menir Frank, who promised to help him in case of need and definitely lived in Maastricht. I think this officer kept his word and, one way or another, will transport Menser Frank to Belgium, and from there to Switzerland. Tell your friends this if one of them asks you about the Franks. Of course, it’s better not to mention Maastricht.” With that I left. Now most of my acquaintances are already aware of the matter, because this version has been conveyed to me many times.” We were delighted with this story, but we laughed even more at the power of people's imagination when Menger Van Daan talked about our friends. For example, one family from Merwedeplein saw all four of us early in the morning riding past on bicycles, and another lady claimed that she herself saw us being taken away by a military vehicle in the dead of night.

Your Anna FRIDAY, AUGUST 21, 1942

Dear Kitty!

Our shelter has only now become a real hiding place. Manager Kügler decided that it would be better to place a cabinet in front of our front door (because there are a lot of searches now - they are looking for bicycles), but, of course, a movable cabinet that would open like a door. Mener Voskuijl built this thing. (We told Mr. Voskuijl about the seven hiding people, and he is ready to help in everything.)

Now, when you go down, you must first bend down and then jump, since the step has been removed. Three days later we all got terrible bumps on our foreheads because we all hit our heads on the low ceiling. Then Peter made it as soft as possible by nailing a rag stuffed with wood wool to it. Let's see if it helps!

I study a little, until September I let myself go on vacation. Then dad is going to give me lessons, but for this I must first buy new textbooks.

Life here is monotonous. Peter washed his hair today, but there's nothing special about it. Menger Van Daan and I constantly quarrel. My mother treats me like I’m little, and I can’t stand it. The rest seemed to be better. I still don’t like Peter, he’s a nasty guy, he lies on his bed all day, sometimes he makes something, and then he sleeps again. Such a mattress!

End of introductory fragment.

Title: Shelter. Diary in letters
Writer: Anne Frank
Year: 1944
Publisher: FTM
Age limit: 0+
Volume: 280 pp. 6 illustrations
Genres: Contemporary foreign literature

About the book “Refuge. Diary in Letters by Anne Frank

"Refuge: A Journal in Letters" belongs to the category of those books that shake you to the core. The author of the novel is a Jewish girl, Anne Frank, born in Germany and hiding from fascism in the Netherlands. Non-childish reflections on adult topics are documented in the diary, which was subsequently, after some transformations and edits, published by the baby’s father.

Anne Frank lived with her family in Amsterdam, but in 1942 they moved to a shelter formed at the factory where the heroine's father worked. Over time, other families began to appear in the room, which also became one of the key characters in the girl’s recordings, most of them were given nicknames by the little girl. The book “Shelter: A Diary in Letters” itself consists of 5 parts:

the first tells about the diary itself;
the second briefly describes the girl’s life story;
the third is the diary itself;
in the fourth you can find several excerpts from the book “Memoirs of Anne Frank”;
the fifth is a biography of Anna, written as a result of research of found documents.
Since the author of the framework is, albeit precocious, but still a child, all information is presented in a simple and easy-to-read format. Although some thoughts are striking and demonstrate how much the events of that difficult time affected the child’s consciousness. Of course, it is difficult to say that reading “Refuge: A Diary in Letters” is psychologically pleasant, but it is still important to understand that fascism is a part of history that cannot be escaped. Anne Frank describes everyday life, relationships with parents, peers and other people around her. It is worth noting that the heroine spent almost 2 years in the shelter, so it is not surprising that she often wrote letters to an imaginary friend. Her loneliness weighed on her morally and this was reflected on the pages she filled out.

Some people believe that "Vault: A Letter Diary" is a real fake, in which there is not an ounce of truth. You shouldn’t believe such statements, since the diary was published by the girl’s father, who would hardly have allowed the wordsmiths to change the essence of the story so much and supplement it with non-existent details that the creation would eventually turn into a fake. The publication of the book can be perceived as a monument to the daughter, which is easy and pleasant to read. In addition, the novel will allow all future generations to learn about the horrors of that time and do everything possible to prevent such nightmares from happening again.

On our literary website you can download the book Anne Frank “Refuge. Diary in Letters" for free in formats suitable for different devices - epub, fb2, txt, rtf. Do you like to read books and always keep up with new releases? We have a large selection of books of various genres: classics, modern fiction, psychological literature and children's publications. In addition, we offer interesting and educational articles for aspiring writers and all those who want to learn how to write beautifully. Each of our visitors will be able to find something useful and exciting for themselves.

The name Anne Frank is known to many, but few are familiar with the life story of this brave girl. Anne Frank, whose full name was Anneliese Marie Frank, was a Jewish woman born in Germany on June 12, 1929, between the two world wars. During the war, due to the persecution of Jews, Anna's family was forced to leave the country and go to the Netherlands to escape Nazi terror. While in asylum, she wrote a memoir that was published many years after the war under the title The Diary of Anne Frank. This work has been translated into many languages ​​and has gained wide popularity throughout the world. Despite the fact that the authenticity of the memoirs was in doubt, in 1981 an examination proved that they were completely authentic.

Childhood

Anne Frank was born in Frankfurt am Main into a Jewish family. The girl had a full-fledged family: father, mother and sister. Anna's parents, Otto and Edith Hollander Frank, were a simple, respectable married couple: he was a former officer, and she was a housewife. Anna's older sister's name was Margot, and she was born only three years earlier - on February 16, 1926.

After Hitler became head of state and the NSDAP won the elections to the municipality of Frankfurt, Otto, the father of the family, was forced to emigrate due to the deteriorating political situation in order to prepare the way for the whole family to move. So he went to Amsterdam, where he became director of a joint-stock company. Soon all family members managed to move to the Netherlands within six months after the father moved.

When Anne Frank moved to Amsterdam, she began attending kindergarten and then went to a Montessori school. After finishing sixth grade, she moved to a specialized lyceum for children of Jewish origin.

Life in the Shelter

In 1940, German military forces managed to break through the defenses and occupy the territory of the Netherlands. As soon as the Wehrmacht established its government in the occupied land, active persecution of Jews began there.

As soon as Anna turned 13, her older sister, Margot Frank, received a summons to the Gestapo. Two weeks later, the family went to shelter. Anne Frank and her family were able to hide in a place arranged by employees of the company where her father worked. Otto's colleagues took a liking to the back of the office building where they worked, at Prinsengracht 263. The entrance to the empty premises was decorated as a filing cabinet to eliminate any suspicion. Soon after the Frank family settled in a secret room, they were joined by the Van Pels couple with their son and the doctor Fritz Pfeffer.

A little later, Anna began writing memoirs, which later made her famous, but recognition came to the young writer, unfortunately, after her death.

Anne Frank's Diary

Reviews from critics and readers about this work only once again confirm that it is worth reading. It reflects not only the suffering that the victims of the Holocaust endured, but also all the loneliness that the girl experienced in the cruel Nazi world.

The diary is written in the form of letters addressed to a fictional girl, Kitty. The first message dates back to June 12, 1942, i.e., the girl’s thirteenth birthday. In these letters, Anna describes the most ordinary events happening in the shelter with her and the other inhabitants. The author gave her memoirs the title “In the Back House” (Het Achterhuis). The name was translated into Russian as “Refuge”.

Initially, the purpose of writing a diary was to try to escape from the harsh reality. But in 1944 this state of affairs changed. On the radio, Anna heard a message from the Minister of Education of the Netherlands. He spoke about the need to preserve any documents that may indicate Nazi repression of people, especially those of Jewish origin. One of the most important pieces of evidence was personal diaries.

Hearing this message, Anna began writing a novel based on the diaries she had already created. However, while preparing the novel, she did not stop adding new entries to the original version.

All the characters in the novel and diary are residents of the shelter. It is not known for certain why, but the author chose not to use real names and came up with pseudonyms for everyone. The Van Pels family appears in the diary under the surname Petronella, and Fritz Pfeffer is called Albert Dussel.

Arrest and death

Anne Frank, whose summary of the novel shows how much she had to endure, became the victim of an informer. He reported that a group of Jews was hiding in the building. Soon everyone hiding in this shelter was detained by the police and sent to concentration camps.

Anna and her older sister Margot ended up in the Westerbork transit concentration camp and were later transferred to Auschwitz. Both sisters were then sent to Bergen-Belsen, where they died of typhus a few months later. The exact dates of their deaths are not recorded, only that the camp was liberated by the British soon after.

Evidence of authorship

After the work was published and gained wide popularity, doubts arose regarding the authorship. Therefore, in 1981, an examination of the ink and paper of the diary manuscript was carried out, which confirmed that the document actually corresponds to the time of its writing. Based on other notes left by Anne Frank, handwriting analysis was also carried out, which became additional evidence that the work is authentic, and Anne is the author.

The publication of the work was carried out by Otto Frank, the girl’s father, who, after her death, removed from the record some points relating to his wife, Anna’s mother. But in subsequent editions these fragments were restored.

Investigation

After the end of the war, the Amsterdam police began searching for the man who reported the whereabouts of the shelter residents to the Gestapo. The name of the informer was not preserved in official documents; it is only known that every Jew, including Anne Frank, brought him seven and a half guilders. The investigation to find the informer was stopped as soon as Otto Frank refused to take part in it. But when the diary gained wide popularity all over the world and was translated into many languages, fans of Anna’s talent and simply people who wanted revenge for the lost lives of innocent people demanded that the search for the culprit be continued.

Informer

There are several versions regarding the potential informer. Three people are named as suspects: warehouse employee Willem van Maaren, cleaner Lena van Bladeren Hartog and Anna's father's partner Anton Ahlers. Researchers studying this issue are divided into two camps. Some believe that the culprit is the cleaning lady Lena Hartog, whose son was already a concentration camp prisoner, and she did not want to compromise herself, so she reported to the Gestapo. According to another version, Anton Ahlers is the traitor. There is a lot of ambiguity about this theory. On the one hand, Ahlers’ brother and son claim that he personally admitted to them that he had become an informer. On the other hand, an investigation carried out by the Netherlands Institute for Military Documentation showed that Ahlers was not involved in this.

Museum

The Anne Frank House Museum is located in the same house where she and her family went into hiding in Amsterdam. The museum's exhibition contains all the elements of everyday life that refugees used. During the tour, guides talk about the daily life of the inhabitants of the hiding place, how they did laundry, where they got fresh newspapers from and how they celebrated family holidays.

In the museum you can also see the original diary, which was written by Anna. Excerpts from the memoirs tell how the girl wanted to touch the tree that grew outside the window and take a walk in the fresh air. But all the windows in the room were tightly closed, and were opened only at night to allow fresh air to enter.

The collection also includes a variety of items that Anne Frank owned, photos and much more. Here you can watch a film about Anna and buy one copy of the diary, which has been translated into 60 languages. Also in the exhibition you can find an Oscar statuette, which was received by one of the actresses who played in the film based on the diary.

Movie

The Diary of Anne Frank was filmed in 1959 by director George Stevens. The main difference from the book is the place in which Anne Frank lives. The film touched on the main motives of the memoirs, and its creators tried to accurately reflect all the hardships and difficulties that the residents of the shelter had to face. As noted above, one of the supporting actresses was even awarded an Oscar.

Anne Frank, whose biography is filled with many hardships, suffering and pain, tried to cope with the complexity of everyday life in refuge, and her diary was the result of these attempts. The letters, addressed to an imaginary friend, reflect the depth of loneliness that the girl experienced and talk about the torture to which the Jewish people were subjected. But all the suffering she experienced only proves how strong the human will is and how much one can survive, one just has to try.

The story of Anne Frank became public after the publication of a documentary and later fictional version of the girl’s diary. Anna became the most famous symbol of the victims of the Nazi regime. After the wedding, the girl's parents Otto (a German businessman of Jewish origin) and Edith (who also had Jewish roots) settled in Frankfurt, Germany. Soon they had children: Margot in 1926 and Anna in 1929.

Portrait of Anne Frank

The family enjoyed these first years of happiness, but the economic crisis darkened the Franks' life. In 1933 he headed the German government. Otto and Edith became concerned about the political situation. The persecution of Jews and the economic crisis caused serious problems, and the couple looked for a way to escape the country.

Childhood and youth

Anne Frank and her older sister Margot were born in Frankfurt am Main, West Germany, where the girls spent a happy childhood. The daughters were close to their parents and were friends with other children in the neighborhood. In the early 1930s, the impact of the economic crisis was increasingly felt, and the political situation worsened as the influence of anti-Semitic sentiments grew stronger when the Nazis came to power.


Edith Frank waited with trepidation for the birth of Margot, Anna's older sister. The Franks' first child (Edith, Bettina) died in infancy. Three years after Margot's birth, on June 12, 1929, her younger sister, Annelies Marie, known to the world as Anna or Anne, was born. Edith writes in a children's book of memoirs about Anne that Margot saw her sister for the first time on June 14 and was sincerely worried.

The family lived on Marbachweg in Frankfurt. Anna and Margot had fun here. There were many children in the area with whom Margo played. Anna played in the sandbox in the garden. She was too little to go outside to play with her sister and other children. Margot's parents allowed her to leave the garden, and she played outside with friends. As soon as Anna learned to walk, she joined her sister. Anne's childhood friend Hilda Staab recalled that her mother and Edith loved to watch the children play through the windows or from the balcony, and they liked that the girls had so much fun together.


The children in the neighborhood came from different walks of life. Some of them are Catholics, others are Protestants or Jews. Anna and her friends were curious about each other's celebrations and traditions. So Margot and Anna were invited to Hilde's Holy Communion party, and when the Franks celebrated Hanukkah, they invited the local children to join them. The Franks were known as liberal Jews - not strict believers, but following Jewish traditions. Members of Otto's family considered themselves Germans. Reading and learning were important to Otto and his two daughters. In addition, he was interested in photography and photographed Anna and Margot playing with neighbor children. These photos are still kept in archives.

Anne and Margot loved their father very much. Together with his mother, the girls nicknamed him Pim. When Otto put his daughters to bed, he told the girls bedtime stories that he made up himself.

In 1931, Otto, Edith, Margot and Anne moved from Marburgweg to Ganghoferstrasse. They had to change their place of residence because the family did not have enough money. Frank's office, where Otto worked, was suffering losses, and Otto's income was rapidly declining. In addition, the homeowner on Marburgweg turned out to be a member of the anti-Semitic National Socialist German Workers' Party. Neighbor Hilda suspected that the Franks moved because of a difficult relationship with the landlord. However, the son of the owner of the house said later that his father was forced to join the party because otherwise he would lose his job, and not because of antipathy towards Jews.

Anne and Margot kept in touch with the children from the old quarter, even after the family moved to Marbachweg on Ganghoferstrasse in 1931. Former neighbor Gertrud Naumann missed the Franks greatly. Frank's daughters easily made friends with children in the new area.

The Franks' new house was located not far from Ludwig Richter's school, and Margot went there to study on March 6, 1932. There was a young teacher working at the school, and classes were sometimes held outside. Students were encouraged to study independently and build friendly relationships with teachers.

The Frank family lived on Gangoferstrasse for two years, and then, for financial reasons, was forced to move in with their grandmother, Otto’s mother. Margot's school was far from her new home, so she moved to another one. Otto and Edith hoped that Margot would not have problems due to her Jewish origin, but, unfortunately, they did.

Asylum

In May 1940, Nazi Germany attacked the Netherlands, and at the same time persecution of Jews began in Europe. From 1938 to 1941, Otto sought permission to emigrate to the United States. The family did not have time to obtain visas - Germany officially declared war on the United States.


In 1942, the Frank family, through their eldest daughter, was given a summons to the Gestapo demanding that they go to a concentration camp. Then Otto decided to move his family to a shelter provided by the company where Frank worked. Then the family lived in Amsterdam. The company's office at Prinsengracht 263 was located in a location where many other companies were located.

The shelter at Prinsengracht 263 was relatively spacious. There was plenty of space for two families. At that time, shelters were cramped spaces in damp basements or dusty attics. People hiding in the countryside sometimes came out into the open, but only if there was no danger of detection.


The entrance to the secret hideout was hidden behind a mobile bookcase. On August 21, 1942, Anna described in her diary that seven people were hiding in the shelter at that time. Dentist Fritz Pfeffer joins them later, on November 16, 1942.

The Franks lived in the shelter for two years. In the shelter, they kept quiet, were scared and spent time together as best they could. The prisoners were assisted by office workers Johannes Kleiman, Victor Kugler, Miep and Jan Gies and warehouse manager Johannes Voskiil. These people brought food, clothing, books and helped the prisoners contact the outside world.

Arrest and deportation

After two years of hiding, the Frank family was discovered and deported to a concentration camp. Anna's father, Otto Frank, was the only one who survived.


On August 4, 1944, the people found in the shelter were arrested along with their assistants. The family was transferred from security headquarters to the Westerbork camp and then deported to Auschwitz. Two assistants went to the Amersfoort camp. Johannes Kleiman was released soon after his arrest, and six months later Viktor Kugler managed to escape. Immediately after the arrests, Miep Gies and Bep Voskyl rescued Anna's diary, which remained in a secret hideout. Despite the research, it was not possible to find out how the shelter was discovered.

Death of Anne Frank

Otto Frank is the only one of eight people who survived that war. During the process of deportation from the Netherlands, he learned that Edith had died. But Otto was never able to receive news about his daughters and hoped to find the girls. At the beginning of July he returned to Amsterdam and went to Miep and Jan Gies, where he spent seven years.


Memorial to Anne Frank and her sister Margot on the site of the former Bergen-Belsen concentration camp

Otto Frank tried to find his daughters, but in July he received news of death: the girls had died as a result of illness and hardship in Bergen-Belsen. Miep Gies then gave Otto Anna's diary. Otto read the diary.

Anne Frank's Diary

After her death, Anna became world famous thanks to the diary she wrote while hiding in a shelter. Shortly before the family was forced into hiding, Anna received a diary as a birthday present. She started recording immediately, and while living in the shelter, the girl wrote about all the events. In addition, Anna wrote short stories and collected quotes from other writers in her “Book of Beautiful Sentences.”


When the Dutch Minister of Education put out a call on British radio asking people to keep war diaries, Anna decided to change the diary and create a novel called Secret Shelter. The girl began to rewrite the diary, but at this time the family was discovered and arrested.


Anna wrote in her diary that she wanted to become a writer or journalist in the future and hoped to publish the diary as a novel. Friends convinced Otto Frank that the diary had high artistic value, and on June 25, 1947, The Secret Annexe released 3,000 copies. This was followed by many more publications and translations, a play and a film.

People all over the world learned the story of Anne Frank. For 10 years, Otto Frank answered thousands of letters from people who read his daughter's diary. In 1960, the Anne Frank House became a museum.

Memory

Otto Frank has repeatedly said in an interview that he is proud of his daughter. Anne Frank's diary is, at its core, a story of faith, hope and love in the face of hate. For two years, Anne Frank hid from the Nazis with her family in a secret hideout in Amsterdam, writing daily diary entries to pass the time. Some entries poignantly convey the depth of despair into which the girl sometimes fell.

“I’ve reached the point where it doesn’t matter to me whether I live or die,” Anna wrote on February 3, 1944. "The world will go on without me, and there is nothing I can do to change events."

“When I write, I can get rid of all my worries,” she wrote on April 5, 1944.

Anne Frank's diary, years after the girl's tragic death, was included in the UNESCO World Heritage List, and a museum was created in the house where the family hid. In memory of the courageous girl, a street in one of the cities of Israel and even an asteroid were named after her.

From the mid-twentieth century to the present, five films have been made about the biography of Anne Frank and her diary. And based on the girl’s notes, a book entitled “Refuge” was published in 2010. Diary in letters."