I really don’t know how it happens sometimes, how it ends up that I read a book from the pile next to the bed, and the next one I pick up relates to it — matches it in theme, style, subject. I don’t stack them up that way. Sometimes if there is a large number of books, I’ll arrange them in a pattern of fiction and non-fiction, but that’s as far as I go.
It happened again this week. I finished Hope: A Tragedy by the wonderfully gifted Shalom Auslander, who can make humor so dark you can barely see through it. The book involves a man who finds that, in the attic of his new home, an elderly, cranky, and somehow alive Anne Frank has set up housekeeping. Although not the focus of the story, Anne Frank’s presence brings up a question among the characters that resonates with many Jews: If the Holocaust happened here, happened now, what would we do? Where would we hide? And who would hide us? Who would risk life and limb — and that of his or her family?
The question also arose in the title story of Nathan Englander’s recent What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank. While publicity for both works may clue some people in to the Anne Frank link, I wasn’t aware of it. Weird.
Last night, as I worked through Englander’s stories — to a one engaging, thoughtful, and meaty — the question loomed: who would risk all to save me and my family? When you go through the list of friends and neighbors, all with their own problems and struggles, you have to think carefully about who you could ask to take the kind of risk that people took to hide Jewish families during the Holocaust, and who might agree to it. I don’t even know if I would hide me. I like to think I would, but I have a son to think about, right? I don’t want to be murdered for my humanity.
Anne Frank and I share a birthday — June 12 — and a name (her full name was Anne Lise), and I always felt a connection with her as another broody, intense, literary, Jewish girl who had issues with her mother. I have thought, more than once, about how it must have been to hide in a small space with strangers and people you didn’t really like, fearing for your life and the lives of those who were feeding and caring for you. As I’ve gotten older and watched the polemic of political discourse grow more and more extreme, I wonder if it could happen again. We don’t seem to care if some groups of people are demonized — gays, Muslims, immigrants. Maybe you don’t see the relationship, but just as I know that a kid who tortures animals is more likely to grow up to torture people, so I know that a society who can dehumanize on group of people can dehumanize any group of people.
I didn’t always think this way. As a 20-something grad student, I went to Israel, where the 6 million dead from the Holocaust are constantly mentioned and memorialized, I was a little offended. I thought they were holding onto something that should be remembered, but not harped on so much, because really, there was no way it would happen again. And then there was the Balkan War, when the term “ethnic cleansing” was popularized, and Rwanda, and the ethnic strife in Iraq after the second invasion. The them and us thing? It’s all around us, even — especially? — in America, still, always, never gone away. If Jews aren’t the focus now, it doesn’t mean we won’t be some other time.
Last week a pastor in North Carolina said that gays should be put behind a fence to die off. How is that different than Germans in the 1930s touting work camps as a place for Jews and other undesirables? No one was talking about the Final Solution then. What if this pastor said the same thing about Catholics? What if he said it about Jews? What if he said it about Democrats? And really, if he says it about one group, isn’t it the same as saying it about any group?
If Anne Frank was gay, or Muslim — she was an immigrant to the Netherlands, and still they tried to save her — would she be the focus of two great American writers? I wish it were so, but I doubt it. And because of that, I will still, occasionally, look around at my neighbors and friends and wonder, who would hide us and feed us and put their lives on the line for the other?
Very interesting post. My grandfather (my mother’s side) was one of those very brave ones who helped hide people in the Netherlands. When I heard some of the stories from my mother – and she told very few – I often wondered if I would have that courage, that strength, to do what he did.
I like to think that I would, that nature would take over and I would do what is right, but I can’t say with great undeniable conviction that I would. Would my fear stop me from putting my own life in danger to help save another? That would be the only thing that would stop me. And that makes me feel ashamed.
I think that we wonder if we could do it underlines how very very special the people who did save others were. I’m a good person, but I’m not sure I’m that brave.
Terrific post, Lisa. Philip Roth has written about Anne Frank, too (The Ghost Writer). Her hiding place was found on the day I was born. I’ve always felt somehow guilty about that. I’m glad the Blogathon has led me to your blog.
Excellent point, Lise. My grandmother was hiding Jewish family in Serbia during the World War II. After the war was over she stayed in contact with them until she died. My husband’s family opened their home to a Bosnian refugee during the war in former Yugoslavia in 1993. Even in the democratic modern society there are signs of discrimination against different groups such as gay people or trending emo kids. I have read Anne Frank’s diary several times when I was young, but this is the first time I’m thinking about all this. Thank you for raising these questions, I believe I’ll think about it for a while.
Interesting post – interesting and troubling discussion. I would like to think that so many years after WWII, society would be more evolved, but recent events show we still have so much to learn. I too read Anne Frank as a young girl and will reread her diary along with Auslander and Englander.
As usual, that was well put, Lisa. I agree that we hear too much divisive discussion on the radio & television. Unfortunately, many who listen don’t do so critically. It’s easier to parrot what the shock-jocks spew.
In how much of our daily speech do we pariticpate in divisive talk. If we’re white, and we refer to someone of another race, creed, color, sexual orientation, do we use that difference to convey our point? I don’t mean that people should be color blind or politically correct. We should do everything in our power to accept differences. The Holocaust can happen again & to any group.
I grew up in a housing project where several families of Holocaust survivors had settled. A childhood friend, also born of Holocaust survivors, had the last name of “Frank” although she wasn’t related to Anne Frank. I’ve thought about this for a long time – would I have had the courage to help or resist? I am very grateful I’ve never been put to the test. I think none of us would ever know for sure until that day came.