November 8, 1938
And so I begin my little useless journal, this little useless journal. A dreadful book about Hitler's ideas has become my own, painted white and written on over Hitler's words, how daring of me. It makes me sick to think about it, how much he hates Jews. Not only that, I felt shocked when I read it: Mein Kampf, what a book. My name, —in case this bad writing ever becomes a thing—is Max Vandenburg. If you haven't thought about it-or suspected-by now, I am a Jew. I am the race that Hitler so strongly abominates. The funny thing is, I am also German, not that it matters anymore, I'm not a German citizen. I come from a moderately comfortable family and house. My mother lives with me, her name I'd rather not say, in case this journal ever falls into the wrong hands, not that a German soldier would care about killing one Jew, they'd rather have more. The hate and tension against people like me is only increasing by the second. The looks, the agonizing looks are what hurt the most. German people, people who aren't Hitler, look at Jews including me as if there was nothing there, as if we can't be seen, or shouldn't be seen. But enough complaining, I think I will stop here, I have much to do for tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Max's Mein Kampf
Cerita PendekA very short story based on Markus Zusak's "The Book Thief," with familiar characters and the same story, but from a different point of view: Max Vanderbourg's. You might know the stories of many Jews during World War 2 in Germany, why not experienc...
