An Interrupted Life: The Diaries of Etty Hillesum 1941-1943

To begin, I must thank the lovely Anne Lewis, for introducing me to Etty. Even in the first few pages of her diary, I felt I knew Etty well. She was the kind of woman that transcends time. As a fairly well-off Jewish woman living in Amsterdam, in the beginning her diaries are not unusual for a young girl. She writes about learning, about her friends, about the men in her life, including the one that she loves though she knows she should not. She is extremely well-educated and self-aware, though her diaries reflect those little ironies that often creep into our journals – for example, a declaration not to need to be with men, followed a few lines later by the need to call a particular man. I could not help but smile, and feel I had found a friend.
But aside from her candour, what is most special about Etty is her astute and poetic observations about herself and the people around her. Being a reader, my favourite passage of this remarkable book is the following:

“Slowly but surely I have been soaking Rilke up these last few months: the man, his work and his life. And that is probably the only right way with literature, with study, with people or with anything else: to let it all soak in, to let it all mature slowly inside you until it has become a part of yourself. That, too, is a growing process. Everything is a growing process. And in between, emotions and sensations that strike you like lightning. But still the most important thing is the organic process of growing.” 106

And it is this organic process of growing that we follow over the course of the journal. As the situation from which she has thus far been sheltered grows steadily more threatening, Etty leaves behind some of her concerns about her oft put off translation of Dostoevsky and her many lovers, and turns to concerns about human nature and about God. Though And ultimately the God she seeks is deep inside of herself. It is an ever renewable sense of strength and conviction, and consequently devoid of any specific religion – a remarkable thing in a time of religious persecution. Eventually her diaries become more like a prayer, with frequent refrains of “Oh God”(which I’ll admit does become a little overbearing eventually) But despite the horror unfolding around her, Etty embraces all of life, the good and the bad, and finds the beauty in every day.

“And so I can sit for hours and know everything and bear everything and grow stronger in the bearing of it, and at the same time feel sure that life is beautiful and worth living and meaningful. Despite everything. But that does not mean I am always filled with joy and exaltation. I am often dog-tired after standing about in queues, but I know that this too is part of life and somewhere there is something inside me that will never desert me again.” (160)

Eventually Etty is sent to a work camp, and she goes passively, feeling her life is no more important than anyone else’s. She sends a few letters from the camp, describing the situation, but she is still not hateful or embittered, rather the remarkable last line of her diary is “We should be willing to act as a balm for all wounds.” (243)

Etty died in Auschwitz in 1943, but left a remarkable gift for generations to come. Her confidence, her love for life and her good faith seep out of the page and into the reader. I would like to give this book to my daughter at this age, because this simple, but profound wisdom deserves to be shared. I think that Etty will be with me for a long time.