There is something to be said for 20th Century History. Something I find so interesting and yet so remote. Knowing I was born and lived the last part of it gives me a sense of immediate connection- knowing my parents experienced some of the 1950's and then the 1960's and 70's and 80's in their entirety resulting in me at the beginning of the 1990's boggles my mind and in a way makes me extremely jealous. I would love to have experienced those eras that I view as not only having an incredibly attractive visual aesthetic but that somehow presented themselves as such an incredible time of voice and change. The 1950's and 1960's will always be a point of interest for me.
That said- the eras before that- the late 1930's and 1940's are arguably some of the most interesting times in regards to world history.
I don't know if it was because my high school history teacher was one of the most passionate people I have ever met or was simply a great teacher- but he passed onto me his fascination for this era. I studied Joseph Goebbels and his ministry and could never understand how Genocide could occur. How was this political party voted freely into power? How did the citizens not know or realise the severity of the situation they were in? This period in our History remains somewhat incomprehensible to me. I fear it always will.
It was with this frame on mind that I first visited the House of Anne Frank. Walking those tiny stairwells and imagining living here - excluded and alone for such an extended period- in constant fear- I came to gain some perspective on what had happened. I had never read the famed Diary of Anne Frank but being within those walls I came to appreciate the sacrifices so many people of all backgrounds made during those years.
It was only is visiting Dachau that I came to understand with a little more clarity how this period of time was written. Dachau was the coldest place I have ever been. Standing in the courtyard layered with clothing designed specifically for snow I experienced a cold I hope never to feel again. But the thing that struck me as most overwhelming about Dachau was the normalcy of the place.
That said- the eras before that- the late 1930's and 1940's are arguably some of the most interesting times in regards to world history.
I don't know if it was because my high school history teacher was one of the most passionate people I have ever met or was simply a great teacher- but he passed onto me his fascination for this era. I studied Joseph Goebbels and his ministry and could never understand how Genocide could occur. How was this political party voted freely into power? How did the citizens not know or realise the severity of the situation they were in? This period in our History remains somewhat incomprehensible to me. I fear it always will.
It was with this frame on mind that I first visited the House of Anne Frank. Walking those tiny stairwells and imagining living here - excluded and alone for such an extended period- in constant fear- I came to gain some perspective on what had happened. I had never read the famed Diary of Anne Frank but being within those walls I came to appreciate the sacrifices so many people of all backgrounds made during those years.
It was only is visiting Dachau that I came to understand with a little more clarity how this period of time was written. Dachau was the coldest place I have ever been. Standing in the courtyard layered with clothing designed specifically for snow I experienced a cold I hope never to feel again. But the thing that struck me as most overwhelming about Dachau was the normalcy of the place.
Let me explain.
It reminded me of the summer camps I loved as a child. Wooden Dormitories, Green lawns. A shower block that looked so unassuming. Knowing what became of these places and more importantly of the unfortunate souls who endured so much within those walls - for the first time in my life I understood how those passing by could do just that. I understood that the propaganda telling townsfolk that the people in these camp were changining their communities for the better by building new infrastructure and not being on the streets was affective. I understood that in the beginning at least choice had been removed from the populations both in and out of the camps and these camps were established and marketed under a positive banner of change and normalcy. Which is the most heartbreaking thing. I always believed that if I were there at the time I would have liked to encourage positive change but seeing first hand I am afraid I would have been like all those that feared for their lives. I would have been quiet.
I have always thought of those war years as times of such heartbreak and sacrifice, of struggle and hardship and irreversible, unthinkable change that when I finally did read the copy of Anne's Diary that I bought at her house I was so incredibly surprised.
I had imagined those times as unimaginable and yet what struck me again about this diary - this book that has been labelled and re-labelled as the "single most poignant true-life story to emerge from the second world war" is how incredibly normal the writing was. It was not poignant to me at all.
Having been informed by the introduction that Anne had planned for her diary to be published having heard the broadcast of Gerrit Bolkestein an exiled Dutch Politician who announced his intention to collect eyewitness accounts of the war I was first surprised to read that Anne had rewritten her diary -omitting the passages she deemed to be uninteresting. So I expected writing that expressed terror and worry and hope and while the diary does mention fleeting times of panic and tales of hardships faced. I still dwell on the fact that the majority of this writing is focused on seemingly trivial thoughts of physical appearance, school yard crushes and birthday presents. I cannot believe those hiding in that annex received birthday presents and cakes and fresh flowers. They listened to music and studied languages and played games. It wasn't at all what I expected.
I am in no position to judge the past- I have no experience that could ever parallel the horrors faced by those of the time. I feel so deeply for them. I fear this post will come across as insensitive and that is not at all my intention but this book it just did not paint a picture that aligned with the one I had formed for myself and I find that equal parts disappointing and reassuring.
It reminded me of the summer camps I loved as a child. Wooden Dormitories, Green lawns. A shower block that looked so unassuming. Knowing what became of these places and more importantly of the unfortunate souls who endured so much within those walls - for the first time in my life I understood how those passing by could do just that. I understood that the propaganda telling townsfolk that the people in these camp were changining their communities for the better by building new infrastructure and not being on the streets was affective. I understood that in the beginning at least choice had been removed from the populations both in and out of the camps and these camps were established and marketed under a positive banner of change and normalcy. Which is the most heartbreaking thing. I always believed that if I were there at the time I would have liked to encourage positive change but seeing first hand I am afraid I would have been like all those that feared for their lives. I would have been quiet.
I have always thought of those war years as times of such heartbreak and sacrifice, of struggle and hardship and irreversible, unthinkable change that when I finally did read the copy of Anne's Diary that I bought at her house I was so incredibly surprised.
I had imagined those times as unimaginable and yet what struck me again about this diary - this book that has been labelled and re-labelled as the "single most poignant true-life story to emerge from the second world war" is how incredibly normal the writing was. It was not poignant to me at all.
Having been informed by the introduction that Anne had planned for her diary to be published having heard the broadcast of Gerrit Bolkestein an exiled Dutch Politician who announced his intention to collect eyewitness accounts of the war I was first surprised to read that Anne had rewritten her diary -omitting the passages she deemed to be uninteresting. So I expected writing that expressed terror and worry and hope and while the diary does mention fleeting times of panic and tales of hardships faced. I still dwell on the fact that the majority of this writing is focused on seemingly trivial thoughts of physical appearance, school yard crushes and birthday presents. I cannot believe those hiding in that annex received birthday presents and cakes and fresh flowers. They listened to music and studied languages and played games. It wasn't at all what I expected.
I am in no position to judge the past- I have no experience that could ever parallel the horrors faced by those of the time. I feel so deeply for them. I fear this post will come across as insensitive and that is not at all my intention but this book it just did not paint a picture that aligned with the one I had formed for myself and I find that equal parts disappointing and reassuring.
(Photo of Amsterdam from Lona Aalders via Frankie Magazine)
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