Not quite what I expected

This book shows a different side of the invasion of Poland. Reina's first hand account of what is going on is very interesting. It should be noted that this is nothing like Anne Frank's diary...nothing. Reina's diary goes through every day life during the invasion, this includes (mainly) her crushes and how much she misses her Mother whom she has been separated from due to the war. There is far more teenage angst that anything else. As long as the reader does not open this book expecting the deep insights received from Anne Frank, then they will be able to enjoy the read. ( )

Renia’s Diary is just that, a diary of a young Jewish girl from Poland. She was just 14 when she started her diary because she wanted a friend. Actually, she had friends, I feel more likely that she wanted a confidant and some way to express all her hopes, dreams and sorrows without fear of ridicule from pears.
As you can imagine, the diary entries are about Renia’s daily life. When she starts the diary, she is living with her grandparents. Her parents are in Warsaw and have been traveling with her sister who is a child actress. As expected, most of the writing is centered around school, her friends and her longing for her family, mainly her Mother. At the beginning, she does speak occasionally of the troubling times and a few of the historical events.
As Renia gets older, she talks about going to parties with friends, dating and dreams about the future. She goes to movies and takes long walks with Zygument (Zygu), her boyfriend. In December of 1941 she decides to start writing about the war. She says, “Blood is flowing, cities are ruined, people are dying.” Despite her declaration, most of her writing remains the same.
It is obvious Renia is deeply religious. All throughout the diary she periodic asked God to take care of her and her family. Later in the diary, most entries end with a plea, “You will help me, Bulus and God”. Even though she did not mention the trying times often, they must have weighed heavily on her mind. Sadly, her life ends shortly after her 18th birthday. The final few diary entries are made by Renia’s boyfriend, Zygu, because she along with his parents are shot in July 1942.
The prose I struggled with because it was written by someone so young and was of course immature. She talked about life with her friends and petty things that happened to her and others. As she gets older, the discuss turns to going to parties and boys and finally falling in love.
It is difficult to compare this book to other works of nonfiction because it is a diary and not a book. It was never written for or intended to be read by an end consumer. Therefore, I struggled with how to assign any kind of rating to a nonliterary work? Ultimately, I choose my rating mostly based on the poetry contained in the diary.
There was a lot of poetry in the diary. Enough for an entire collection to be published of just the poetry. There were all types of poems, long (some ran several pages) to short, some sad, some lively and some longing. Regardless of the theme, they were lovely. The poems are the real star of the book. I found it to be not only good, but contemplative. For the prose to be so immature, the poetry was the exact opposite. I am left wondering what her poetry would have been like if she had lived. Would she have been a great poet in the 20th century?
I received a free copy from the publisher in exchange for my honest review. ( )

This book is the edited version of Renia Spiegel‘s diary that spans nearly 700 pages and nearly four years in 1939-1942.

Sergey Yarov wrote brilliantly about morality in the siege of Leningrad during World War II. He read a lot of previously redacted diaries that belonged to people who were part of the siege. Those diaries told a clear tale of how things changed gradually, and how what was once considered extreme behaviours were normalised, from making potato-skin soup to pilfering corpses for food stamps.

Equally, Viktor Klemperer‘s essential diaries from World War II told a most chilling tale where Jews were violently targeted, people that weren’t The Teutonic Ideal were persecuted, and entire populations razed off the face of the Earth. But not without testimony.

Most importantly, diaries offer us something that memoirs do not: an emotional immediacy. And it is this immediacy that is so very compelling. I am reminded of Helene Berr, the Israelite young Parisian woman who kept a diary from 1942 through to the day she and her parents were rounded up in March 1944. Fortuitously, she begins to write but a short time before the decree that all Jews must wear a yellow star.

She confides to the diary her struggle with whether to wear it or not. Was wearing it an act of compliance with a hateful regime or did it demonstrate a pride in one’s Jewish identity? We read of her reactions to passerby’s comments. Some express solidarity and others pity. She reflects on them, not from a distance of many years, but on the day she encountered them. She does not—because she cannot—contextualize this act as the first step in an array of far worse persecution to come.

The above is part of the introduction that is written by Renia’s sister, Ariana Spiegel, who is currently named Elizabeth Leszczyska Bellak.

JANUARY 31, 1939

Why did I decide to start my diary today? Did something important happen? Have I discovered that my friends are keeping diaries of their own? No! I just want a friend. I want somebody I can talk to about my everyday worries and joys. Somebody who will feel what I feel, believe what I say and never reveal my secrets. No human could ever be that kind of friend and that’s why I have decided to look for a confidant in the form of a diary. Today, my dear Diary, is the beginning of our deep friendship.

Renia was fourteen years old when she started her diary, a tumultuous time for any teenager, for sure.

She writes of everyday troubles, of boys that she likes, of friends, family, her constant longing for her mother, and to begin with, this diary offers a reprieve from all things sensationalistic – which is exactly why it is extraordinary; the horrors of World War seep in over time.

FEBRUARY 13, 1939

Can there be a worse day than Monday the 13th? Monday on its own is usually quite bad, and now we have the number 13 added to it. Bad luck! It was definitely not a good day for me.

There are naturally sudden changes all throughout the book, as war is seldom predictable, especially for the victims.

SEPTEMBER 10, 1939

Oh, God! My God! We’ve been on the road for three days now. Przemyel was attacked. We had to flee. The three of us escaped: me, Arianka and Grandpa. We have left the burning, partially destroyed city in the middle of the night on foot, carrying our bags. Granny stayed behind. Lord, please protect her. We heard on the road that Przemyel was being destroyed.

One stand-out thing about Renia is her poetry. She writes poetry all throughout her diary, about all kinds of things. To me, it is apparent how the poetry changes, both from her age and also from the war.

Even if your beauty could outshine that of Greek goddesses’ line
Your fate will remain the same
Your life will not be reframed
Life doesn’t care about your eyes
Your ugly lips
Nose the wrong size!
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Tell me the truth you reflect and all.

Her words on her love interests radiate from the page:

JANUARY 5, 1941, SUNDAY

And? Didn’t I say it was better not to see him? I was so regretful, but tough. It always so happens that when you love somebody, you tease them. The greetings were sweet, but then he didn’t dance with me, he sat there fuming, in a bad mood, but tough, after all (oh, God) love can (i.e., must!!!) sulk too. Today I’m in bed; I’m unwell. Oh, I so hope that everything pans out well!! Please, Great One! I find evidence of his liking even in anger.

A 16-YEAR-OLD

When you’re 16 years old you dearly love the whole world with all its parties, pranks and jokes and especially with your favorite folks.
When you hide your crumpled diary from your mother’s strict inquiries.
When you sing love songs
Then you are 16 years old.

Her true beloved, Zygu, shines through the pages, even when he is “a boor”, and their love is mutual. It makes me remember the turmoils and torpor that youth entails.

JULY 1, 1941

We’re all alive and well. All of us, Norka, Irka, Zygu, my friends, my family. And today I want to speak with you as a free person still. Today I’m like everyone else … Tomorrow, along with other Jews, I’ll have to start wearing a white armband. To you I will always remain the same Renia, a friend, but to others I will become someone inferior, I will become someone wearing a white armband with a blue star. I will be a Jude. I’m not crying or complaining. I have resigned myself to my fate. It just feels so strange and sorrowful. My school vacation and my dates with Zygu are coming to an end. I don’t know when I’ll see him next. Everyone is working today. No news about Mama. God protect us all. Goodbye, dear Diary. I’m writing this while I’m still independent and free. Tomorrow I’ll be someone else—but only on the outside. And perhaps one day I’ll greet you as someone else still. Grant me that, Lord God, I believe in You. You will help me, Bulus and God!

Zygu and Renia loved each other dearly, seemingly as she loved her mother. Renia’s sister, Elizabeth, provides a loving epilogue to this book, which also details as much as we know happened to Renia, and also to Zygmunt (Zygu).

This diary stood the test of time, and will forever be a tome over what happened to a young person who was murdered during the Holocaust. ( )

Not going to rate this because I cannot rate the innermost thoughts of a young teenage girl who never had any intention of this being published. Moreover, there was something about the translation that was so very difficult for me to connect with. Maybe it was a direct transliteration, so very literal and dissimilar to how an English speaker would write or speak. This is not to say it was wrong or incorrect to be translated this way, but it was very difficult to find any rhythm or flow and therefore hard for me to connect with the writing and the content. I enjoyed Elizabeth’s detailed and informative explanations at the end that filled in some of the gaps in Renia’s diary entries.

The majority of Renia’s Diary, as any young girl’s diary might be, was filled endlessly about boys and friends and parties. That was about 95% of the entire book and rightly so — but it was a bit deceiving, as this is sold as a Holocaust journal. It was not really about the Holocaust or the trauma Renia or her family experienced. It seems a little dishonest to sell it in such a way and thus I can understand the low-starred reviews. I will not rate this because how dare I rate a young, innocent girl’s private words that weren’t intended to be shared? Every story of the Holocaust, all twelve-plus million of them, deserve to be told and heard and never forgotten. Renia’s is one of those.