Anne, a Jewish girl in Amsterdam, began writing the diary in 1942, a month before I was born, when she was 13. She and her family went into hiding in the attic of her father’s business after her older sister was ordered to report to a Nazi work camp. They were discovered in 1944 and sent to concentration camps where Anne died of typhus shortly before the war ended in 1945.
Fascism was built on the idea of racial/cultural superiority and Jews were the despised minority, and the power of the book is the plain humanity of the writer. Reading it, you come to feel you are her closest friend.
