The Diary of a Young Girl

by Anne Frank
ages: 12+
First sentence: "On Friday, June 12th I woke up at six o'clock and no wonder; it was my birthday."

Ack.

Let me say that again.

Ack.

If I had read this book when I was 12 or 13, I would have totally loved it. I would have completely identified with Anne, with her plight, with her suffering, with her angst, with her. I would have cried at the end. I would have swooned over her relationship with Peter, and the difficulties it presented.

But now...

I just felt like she's a whiny teenager who wasn't completely grateful that she didn't end up in a concentration camp for the whole war, and that she spent too much time whining about how horrible her parents (and the Van Daans) are. I felt like the book is only famous because she (in a cruel irony) died in a concentration camp three months before the Allieds liberated it. Yes, it was human, and real, and sometimes insightful. But I couldn't stand her. Or the book.

Which makes me feel guilty.

Oh, well. I missed the boat on this one.