Anne Frank's Diary & MAUS

Anne Frank

Truth in Deviation

In discussing the Holocaust, it is important to note the difference between historical and narrative truths. Naturally, the greater emphasis is on the former, as it is the systematic and accurate stating of facts. In contrast with historical truth, narrative truth is somebody’s perspective of those factual events. This “deviated” truth, nonetheless, when speaking of the Holocaust and its dreadful events, does not convey untrue messages in regards to the subject. In order to show the various gendered perspectives in the light of narrative truth, examining Anne Frank’s Diary of a Young Girl and Art Spiegelman’s MAUS might further illuminate the subject. The characters in both works are all hardworking individuals, with incredible resourcefulness and initiative. Both stories concentrate on specific, family lives and their struggles during the Holocaust, rather than on every event in Europe during the Holocaust. There is a certain specificity that comes with speculating the gendered perspectives in both stories through narrative truth, managing to the inhumanity of man to man. Furthermore, the protagonists’ direct and indirect recollections and reflections of their experiences do not provide answers to their degraded and traumatized states, yet they do not fail to show man’s inhumanity to man, whether through the perspective of a young girl or an experienced, male survivor.

Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl can be seen as a personal historical document. Although, it has touched millions of readers worldwide, still many criticize the diary, because it contains no first-hand accounts of the horrors of the Nazi genocide. They fault the book's popularity because it focuses on an individual in a unique situation, rather than on the broader Holocaust experience. Despite the negative views of the Diary, Frank’s perseverance fills a need to return to optimism. The reader, especially the teenage reader, sympathizing and empathizing with Frank, might as well be inspired by the indomitable spirit of teenage Frank, disregarding the absence of some solid recounting of the events of the Holocaust. Despite the seriousness of the subject, Frank incorporates humor in her piece, intentional or non-purposed, which contributes to the uniqueness of the book. A New York Times best-selling author, Francis Prose notes in her book, Anne Frank: The Book, the Life, the Afterlife, “Occasionally, horror is commingled with comedy, again in ways that deepen our understanding of Anne’s ‘characters’ and their interrelations” (123). The humor and comic elements are typical of a teenage girl, in their irreverence and sarcasm. She holds nothing back in her biting portrayals of the other hideaways, and the result is often quite comical. In one of her entries, she comments on Mrs. Van Daan, one of the residents of the Secret Annex, explaining that her bed is "shoved against the window so that Her Majesty, arrayed in her pink bed jacket, can sniff the night air through her delicate little nostril” (96). Anne's humor is also turned on herself, as in the entry on December 22, 1942, in which she concludes that she is afraid that her common sense will vanish by the end of the war since she uses too much of it (63). Sarcasm is a key element of Frank's sense of humor and one that plays a vital role in her ability to cope with her extreme situation.

Melissa Muller in her book discusses the importance of narrative truth, it having a greater chance of reaching the reader, than the bare and plain stating of events: “The historian Yehuda Bauer has said that historical research cannot rely on theoretical analysis alone; it requires as well the telling of true stories” (Muller xi). The storyteller is ranked higher by Muller than a historian because without perspective, in the Diary’s case, one would not empathize with Anne Frank. “History does not repeat itself, but man does” are the famous words of Voltaire. It is with repetition that one comes to understand the struggles and the dehumanization of individual experiences. It can be assumed that it is Frank’s gender that allows her to be quite expressive and repetitive; nonetheless, associating expressive traits with women is a stereotype and has not been proven by psychological research. At several accounts, however, Frank states: “Paper is patient” (123), “Kitty is always patient” (46), or “Paper is more patient than man” (2), indicating that she is in need of a non-judgmental listener, who will patiently listen to her joys and sorrows, worries and pleasures. The reader may find many of her feelings and experiences familiar, indicating that the process of growing up, with all of its pain, joy, and uncertainty, is generally the same regardless of time, place, or situation. Her age and gender affect the narrative technique and style, as Frank, in awkward and introspective time of maturity and in extraordinary circumstances, chooses a diary as her confidante. Being the optimistic person that she is, and the great potential that she might have as a writer, it is especially frightening that Frank’s hopes and dreams, along with her body give way to typhus, at a concentration camp.

Moreover, Frank’s optimism is so deeply embedded in her identity that it sustains her through much hardship. She writes in one of her last entries of the Diary, “It is really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd . . . to carry out . . . in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart” (263). This statement is compelling when the reader realizes that this entry was one of the last made by Frank, after having lived in the Secret Annex for two years and hearing news of the horrors taking place in the outside world. There is a highly complex situation here: would acknowledgment of the situation, by Nazi targets, including Frank, ensure that action would be taken in the direction of rescue? In Frank’s case, it would not, as she is a teenage girl who lives secretly in an annex, with her family. There is not much she can do about missing a meal, being constantly in the danger of getting bombed and killed, or being taken away by a train to a camp.

On the other hand, Frank’s sensibility, as opposed to Vladek Spiegelman’s reserved nature, from MAUS, contrast in a way. Vladek Spiegelman is the principal protagonist in the narrative and also acts as an intermediate narrator for most of the material in the book—that is, he narrates his life story to Art, his son, who retells Vladek's story, frequently using Vladek's own words. Again, there is an example of narrative truth, where the events are described through somebody’s understanding of those accounts. These events are somewhat affected by the great trauma of the survivors. Art Spiegelman is one of the narrators within the graphic text where he frequently tries to express the inexpressible. In other words, Art is self-referential, in narrowing the space between the reader and the text, by adding personal opinions outside of his conversations with the other protagonist, Vladek. This is obvious in the beginning of the story when Art provides some context for the reader in the third person perspective. The beginning is not only worthy of mentioning in terms of style, but it also provides some perspective on Vladek’s character. Art mentions, “My father was in front, fixing something” (5), which already indicates that his father is a hardworking man. This, also, foreshadows the later struggles, recollected by Vladek, during the difficult times. Within the text, Vladek and his second wife, Mala, represent the point of view of Holocaust survivors, while Art represents someone who did not experience the Holocaust, but is still deeply connected to it; the text is manifestly a reaction of a non-survivor because of generational trauma. Anja, Art’s mother, eventually seeks to escape the trauma of the Holocaust by committing suicide. According to author Leni Yahil, “It appears to be an empirical fact of human nature that it is difficult for people to adapt their way of thinking to new circumstances” (544). Yahil’s point seems to be evident in this case, as nothing seems to save Anja from death, from the involuntary exhaustion of her own mind.

Furthermore, Anja’s act reverberates throughout Vladek’s life and affects his narrative; he feels somehow responsible. The reader can see Vladek’s soft and sensitive side, when he breaks down in front of his son, remembering Anja: “Oy, Anja! Anja! Anja!” (129). Before this point, his narrative seemed to be a reportage of the recollection of the events during the Holocaust. Even if there were sensitive moments included in Vladek’s stories, they were all accounts of the past. However, part of his now-character is revealed, and under the alienated, proud survivor figure, one can notice the man who suffers and is unfulfilled with his life. Although he survived, Vladek remains colored by his experiences: “I cannot forget it . . . Ever since Hitler I don’t like to throw out even a crumb” (Spiegelman 238). To Vladek, money is literally life—too many times having a bribe literally saves his life—and he refuses to willingly part with any amount of money that can be squirreled away. Vladek’s gethering of materials, kept from the Holocaust has another layer to it. Its symptoms, as expressed by Mala—“He’s more attached to things than to people” (132)—are apparent. The degrading and drastic situations in concentration camps mold Vladek into the character that he is at present. As the male of the household, he almost had a responsibility to survive, for everybody’s sake.

In addition, the material objects are tangible rather than virtual; therefore, they are more immediate to the collector. In his essay “Counting Six Million: Collecting Projects and Holocaust Memorization,” Jewish Social Studies scholar Daniel H. Magilow, explains this phenomenon: “Unlike memorials that grow old and illegible, collecting projects do not treat trauma as entirely separate, distant, and relevant only as an object of reflection . . .The collecting of material objects connects past with the present” (39). The tangibles from the past do not fade like memories might, due to aging, but are constantly there to remind of the past. Vladek, although a stern-seeming father figure, still lives the aftereffects of the Holocaust. To Mala he might seem antisocial, or a total insensitive human, yet he is a typical product of the Nazi-planned genocide, looking for a path to second salvation.

Frank’s Diary and Spiegelman’s MAUS have the Holocaust as the central theme and dominant feature of both texts. Both authors recount their Holocaust experiences in a more individual and specific manner. Although the Diary, in contrast with MAUS, has a single narrator, it still does not fail to portray the struggles and sorrows of the sufferers during the Holocaust. Both works, however, no matter the dreadfulness of the topic, provide comical elements which by no means are there to trivialize the serious subject, but to show the accuracy of those recollections and reflections. The narrative truth might not be as precise as historical truth; yet, it is still a depiction of historical events, in a more immediate and personal manner. Surviving physically does not mean surviving mentally or being liberated from the trauma of the Holocaust. The protagonists, on their entry to the camps, are overcome before they can adapt; they are beaten by the time they realize a strike is on its way. They are not only entangled in the infernal knots of the drastic events, but also in their narrative truths.

Works Cited

Frank, Anne. The Diary of a Young Girl. Trans. B. M. Mooyaart-Doubleday. New York:

Bentam Books, 1986. Print.

Magilow, Daniel H. “Counting Six Million: Collecting Projects and Holocaust

Memorialization.” Jewish Social Studies 14.1 (2007): 23-39. Print.

Muller, Melissa. Anne Frank: The Biography. Trans. Robert Kimber, et al. New York:

Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 1998. Print.

Prose, Francine. Anne Frank: The Book, the Life, the Afterlife. New York: HarperCollins

Publishers, 2003. Print.

Spiegelman, Art. MAUS. New York: Pantheon Books, 1991. Print.

Yahil, Leni. The Holocaust: The Fate of European Jewry. New York: Oxford University Press,

1990. Print.