Anne Frank is a content machine
Also, news from HanukkahLand: Johnny Hanukkah sends us deeper into isolation
IN WHICH:
An important Jewish book is finally appreciated.
Mayor Brisketface has a new idea.
We find out who we really are (and who we Arendt).
1.
My favorite book this year was The Diary of a Young Girl. Ever heard of it? It’s been around for a while, I know I know I know, but it holds up. Like, much better than a book written by a teen girl in isolation and abject terror should be.
Maybe that’s what we all need to improve as writers. Table stakes.
2.
Anne Frank should start a Substack. She could call it Writing in the Dark.
A Year of Writing Dangerously?
Anne could give tips on how to maintain productivity while being locked in the back of a warehouse with your family during your formative teenage years. I don't know about you, but I accomplished NOTHING during my formative teenage years, and I was not locked in the back of a warehouse with my family.
3.
Anne has a knack for content. She knows what’s fun. Her entry for Monday, December 7, 1942, describes a Hanukkah/Christmas comparison. “We didn’t make much fuss about Chanuka: we just gave each other a few little presents and then we had the candles.” The Secret Annex doesn’t even have enough candles, so they sing the song and, contrary to tradition, blow the candles out instead of letting them burn down to the wick.
Blow the candles out, Anne. No one cares about those candles.
Whereas, “the evening of St. Nicolas Day was much more fun.” They exchanged poems, and gifts, and everybody cares.
If Anne Frank had a Substack, one of her first posts would be called “Eff it, I’m getting a Christmas tree.”
4.
After Hans the Xmas Viking decorated Johnny Hanukkah’s lawn with Christmas decorations, Johnny Hanukkah started to think. Perhaps HanukkahLand had lived in isolation for too long and it was time to learn a thing or two about Christmas. This Hanukkah, Johnny wanted to do something special. During a lunch break, he went to Mayor Brisketface’s office with a Google Slide deck prepared, with all the ideas he wanted to borrow from Christmas. He started his first slide with a picture of Anne Frank, and intended to say, “Anne Frank was right. Christmas is better.”
“I love it,” interrupted Mayor Brisketface. “This Hanukkah, our theme will be THE STRENGTH OF THE JEWISH PEOPLE.”
5.
No wonder Anne Frank didn’t make a fuss about Hanukkah. She was living knee-deep in THE STRENGTH OF THE JEWISH PEOPLE. And all she wanted was a little egg nog.
6.
Weird it’s taken me this long to read Anne Frank, but at my public school in Northeastern Massachusetts, our Holocaust unit lasted two days. On Day One, we read Number the Stars. On Day Two, we watched Schindler’s List.
I remember it on the shelf of my third grade classroom, the Bantam edition published in 1993, which delivered to American audiences an uncensored translation for the first time, including references to masturbation, menstruation, and the third forbidden M-word. On the front cover, Anne’s photo looked out, her thick eyebrows and long nose daring you with, “Stereotype me, bitch.” Growing up in a town without a synagogue, this was the most Jewish girl I had ever seen.
Naturally I was afraid of her.
7.
Johnny Hanukkah thinks HanukkahLand should come out of isolation. He thinks the mayor should realize that not everything needs to be about THE STRENGTH OF THE JEWISH PEOPLE. He thinks he should give the people what they want: music, dancing, food.
But the mayor has made up his mind. He’s already ordered the Anne Frank balloon for the parade.
8.
I have kept a private diary for most of my life. These days, it’s a place where I try to be the most honest, which is still very hard to do. I’m not sure if it’s the fear of being found out so much as the fear of who I truly am. When I see something mean or coarse or cringey written in my own hand, it’s more jarring than hearing it through my head bones.
I guess that’s why I was afraid of Anne Frank. I wanted so much to be recognized for my genius. But really all I wanted was for people to accept me for who I was.
9.
From Hannah Arendt’s introduction to Walter Benjamin’s Illuminations: “Posthumous fame is one of Fama’s rarer and least desired articles, although it is less arbitrary and often more solid than the other sorts, since it is only seldom bestowed upon mere merchandise.” Turns out that like Walter Benjamin, Anne Frank never got to appreciate her fame. Why do so many Jewish writers die before they’re known?
Merry Christmas, Anne.
This is part 5 of an eight-part series called HanukkahLand. To catch up: