Ruud van der Rol and Rian Verhoeven's photographic remembrance of Anne - Beyond the Diary - is a touching and fitting tribute to the Dutch schoolgirl's legacy. Anna's Quindlen's poignant introduction strikes the right emotional notes for what follows. She says Anne's diary has a kind mystical quality for the adolescents who first encounter it and for the adults left with its spiritual aftertaste. The power is so strong that Quindlen refers to the shiver that took hold of her has she saw pictures of the original diary in the van der Rol and Verhoeven book. She speaks for all of us when she says Anne was not just a victim, a fugitive, and a metaphor but an ordinary girl with blemishes, worried about boys, parents, clothes and a post-war future.
The authors should be congratulated for their presentation of rarely seen photographs of Anne Frank and her family. There is Anne's mother, Edith, with baby Anne seemingly a few hours old, in a Frankfurt hospital. There is Mum and Dad on their honeymoon; Anne and Margot as toddlers sitting on Dad's knee; the young girls dressed beautifully out shopping with Mum in downtown Frankfurt. These are happy times: family, friends, movies, a day at the beach. But a sombre bell tolls...
Like melancholy drapes blocking the sunlight, the remainder of the book catalogues the Frank family in hiding as Nazism throws its fetid shadow. There are photographs of That List - not Schindler's - but Anne's. Her name appears on the passenger manifest for the last transport from Westerbork to Auschiwitz and then, sadly, on the final Red Cross declaration. The photographs, accompanied by the simple text, are a revelation. This book comes as close as any to capturing Anne's allure. But Anne in "Beyond the Diary" is still somehow beyond reach. We love her diary because we seem to share so much with her. Her last footprints show, in fact, that we probably share very little...
I was just thirteen when I read her book, the same age that she started scribbling her thoughts in that famous checked binder with the little metal clasp. Thirteen is an age when childhood lies like freshly cut grass in recent memory, with puberty and adulthood new temptations soon to be savoured. Her original diary seems to kindle some inner furnace in our souls. The magic of the story is that we want to know more, more about Anne, her life, her family, her silent footsteps after the Annex.
