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The diary Of Anne Frank
Could fulfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss?*
Before you start reading Anne Frank’s diary, you must make yourself aware of the fate the people in Anne’s life met. If it wasn't for that, one could have dismissed some parts of the diary as ramblings of a fifteen years old, but once we remember that these kids never grew up to live the life they deserve, we feel more for them.
At every step, you are reminded of fact that Anne is soon going to die, and all those ramblings and day dreams she is writing about are going to end with that. She wished to be a writer, a lady that mattered but none of that is ever going to come good.
It is this loss which is felt by the reader despite the fact that Anne herself remains innocent of her fate. It is at times like these, the very word ‘life’ seems to be too inadequate to represent what it stands for.
These are the people that those who advocate the war never met – if it wasn't for works like Anne, they would had been lost as mere numbers.
Yes, there are a lot of complaints and most of Anne’s ‘Dear Kitty’ moments are ones felt by everyone in teenage but she is able to draw a picture of the atmosphere they are confined to. People who are forced to live in a closed space and have to deal with each other continuously will always develop complaints against each other.
By the end, though she seems to be finding a rare clarity of thought – it is as if those jumbled thoughts which she rambles at the beginning are now arranging themselves into poetry.
*
The most beautiful aspect of the diary is her sheer honesty. She starts her diary with following words:
“I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.”
I almost feel guilty in reading it – the guilt of intruding someone’s persona life, despite the fact that she is long dead and her father had chosen to publish it. She becomes real to you across time and space and it is this guilt which sits heavily on your heart while reading it- let alone reviewing it.
Her honesty has enabled her to draw a picture of her life – you could feel the writer growing in pages, her psychological developments and passions. This is something that fiction will probably never achieve – surly not in that complete manner.
(*Title of review is quoting Kiran Desai (The Inheritance of Loss))
Could fulfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss?*
Before you start reading Anne Frank’s diary, you must make yourself aware of the fate the people in Anne’s life met. If it wasn't for that, one could have dismissed some parts of the diary as ramblings of a fifteen years old, but once we remember that these kids never grew up to live the life they deserve, we feel more for them.
At every step, you are reminded of fact that Anne is soon going to die, and all those ramblings and day dreams she is writing about are going to end with that. She wished to be a writer, a lady that mattered but none of that is ever going to come good.
It is this loss which is felt by the reader despite the fact that Anne herself remains innocent of her fate. It is at times like these, the very word ‘life’ seems to be too inadequate to represent what it stands for.
These are the people that those who advocate the war never met – if it wasn't for works like Anne, they would had been lost as mere numbers.
Yes, there are a lot of complaints and most of Anne’s ‘Dear Kitty’ moments are ones felt by everyone in teenage but she is able to draw a picture of the atmosphere they are confined to. People who are forced to live in a closed space and have to deal with each other continuously will always develop complaints against each other.
By the end, though she seems to be finding a rare clarity of thought – it is as if those jumbled thoughts which she rambles at the beginning are now arranging themselves into poetry.
*
The most beautiful aspect of the diary is her sheer honesty. She starts her diary with following words:
“I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.”
I almost feel guilty in reading it – the guilt of intruding someone’s persona life, despite the fact that she is long dead and her father had chosen to publish it. She becomes real to you across time and space and it is this guilt which sits heavily on your heart while reading it- let alone reviewing it.
Her honesty has enabled her to draw a picture of her life – you could feel the writer growing in pages, her psychological developments and passions. This is something that fiction will probably never achieve – surly not in that complete manner.
(*Title of review is quoting Kiran Desai (The Inheritance of Loss))