Diary – Anne Frank

I had never read this book chiefly because I had a wonderful middle-school teacher who had us watch the great 1959 movie (in the same year she had us watch Gillo Pontecorvo’s Kapo, Norman Jewison’s Hurricane, Barry Levinson’s Sleepers, study in depth the Arab-Israeli conflict, and plenty of other things – easily the best teacher I’ve ever had while in Italy).

How does one actually read Anne Frank’s diary? Again a rather problematic philological issue: she wrote it thinking that she would share it with posterity herself, but everyone knows how her life ended and I’m not sure any reader can read the diary without constantly remembering that the SS will eventually breach into the Franks’ hiding place.

Regardless of that, and regardless of how heavily or not the diary/diaries might have been edited, this book remains an exceptional read. It is undeniably extremely well-written, and knowing Anna’s tragic end makes her comments about love appear even more cute (for want of a better term). I am not going to comment on her political acumen, because after all we are talking about a young girl who found herself locked in a flat for two years, but her personal observations  on the attitudes of her family and the other people around them can remain a priceless primary source for any young historian studying the Second World War. Too bad my own students probably don’t even manage to read a book a year. 

Things Fall Apart – Chinua Achebe

A book given to me for Christmas by a close friend, and one that all the fancy native English speakers in my high-school had to read for their courses.

Now, I didn’t quite know how to approach this book from a philological point of view: I am quite sure that as a rich white European I am not exactly the target audience for the novel, but at the same time I have the feeling that most of the very few readers left in the world are, like me, rich white Europeans – so who really should be reading this book?

To me the novel is very much divided in two (and not in three, as the chapters would suggest). The first part, full of Nigerian folklore, is the one that interested me the least (not because it’s Nigerian, but because it’s folklore, and I often have very little time for it – unless it’s Jewish folklore, I have a soft spot for that…) and I did not think too much of what I suspect would appear “barbarian” to many Western readers. I saw a lot of the descriptions of violence as either acts of war – which we are so much more scientific and classy at carrying forward, not sacrificing the defeated enemies but simply mistreating POWs even in the 21^st century – or plain and simple marital abuse – again,  I don’t think we are that much better than 19^th century Nigerians from this point of view.

The second part of the novel is the one that really got my interest though, when the white European settlers finally arrive. And probably the evil ones scare me less than the supposedly well-intentioned ones… Needless to say we are ultimately savages, but we all knew that didn’t we?