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The Diary of a Young Girl_ The Definitive Edition - Anne Frank [119]

By Root 741 0
windows open again at night.

Yours, Anne M. Frank

What Our Annex Family Is Interested In

(A Systematic Survey of Courses and Reading Matter)


Mr. van Daan. No courses; looks up many things in Knaur’s Encyclopedia and Lexicon; likes to read detective stories, medical books and love stories, exciting or trivial.

Mrs. van Daan. A correspondence course in English; likes to read biographical novels and occasionally other kinds of novels.

Mr. Frank. Is learning English (Dickens!) and a bit of Latin; never reads novels, but likes serious, rather dry descriptions of people and places.

Mrs. Frank. A correspondence course in English; reads everything except detective stories.

Mr. Dussel. Is learning English, Spanish and Dutch with no noticeable results; reads everything; goes along with the opinion of the majority.

Peter van Daan. Is learning English, French (correspondence course), shorthand in Dutch, English and German, commercial correspondence in English, woodworking, economics and sometimes math; seldom reads, sometimes geography.

Margot Frank. Correspondence courses in English, French and Latin, shorthand in English, German and Dutch, trigonometry, solid geometry, mechanics, physics, chemistry, algebra, geometry, English literature, French literature, German literature, Dutch literature, bookkeeping, geography, modern history, biology, economics; reads everything, preferably on religion and medicine.

Anne Frank. Shorthand in French, English, German and Dutch, geometry, algebra, history, geography, art history, mythology, biology, Bible history, Dutch literature; likes to read biographies, dull or exciting, and history books (sometimes novels and light reading).

FRIDAY, MAY 19, 1944

Dearest Kitty,

I felt rotten yesterday. Vomiting (me of all people!), headache, stomachache and anything else you can imagine. I’m feeling better today. I’m famished, but I think I’ll skip the beans we’re having for dinner.

Everything’s going fine between Peter and me. The poor boy has an even greater need for tenderness than I do. He still blushes every evening when he gets his good-night kiss, and then begs for another one. Am I merely a better substitute for Boche? I don’t mind. He’s so happy just knowing somebody loves him.

After my laborious conquest, I’ve distanced myself a little from the situation, but you mustn’t think my love has cooled. Peter’s a sweetheart, but I’ve slammed the door to my inner self; if he ever wants to force the lock again, he’ll have to use a harder crowbar!

Yours, Anne M. Frank

SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1944

Dearest Kitty,

Last night when I came down from the attic, I noticed, the moment I entered the room, that the lovely vase of carnations had fallen over. Mother was down on her hands and knees mopping up the water and Margot was fishing my papers off the floor. “What happened?” I asked with anxious foreboding, and before they could reply, I assessed the damage from across the room. My entire genealogy file, my notebooks, my books, everything was afloat. I nearly cried, and I was so upset I started speaking German. I can’t remember a word, but according to Margot I babbled something about “unübersehbarer Schaden, schrecklich, entsetzlich, nie zu ersetzen”27 and much more. Father burst out laughing and Mother and Margot joined in, but I felt like crying because all my work and elaborate notes were lost.

I took a closer look and, luckily, the “incalculable loss” wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. Up in the attic I carefully peeled apart the sheets of paper that were stuck together and then hung them on the clothesline to dry. It was such a funny sight, even I had to laugh. Maria de’ Medici alongside Charles V, William of Orange and Marie Antoinette.

“It’s Rassenschande,”28 Mr. van Daan joked.

After entrusting my papers to Peter’s care, I went back downstairs.

“Which books are ruined?” I asked Margot, who was going through them.

“Algebra,” Margot said.

But as luck would have it, my algebra book wasn’t entirely ruined. I wish it had fallen right in the vase. I’ve never loathed any book as much

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