This breaks my heart.

A clerical error led to the discovery this week of letters written by Otto Frank, father of Anne Frank, to friends abroad in 1941 and 1942. The letters outline the Franks’ increasingly desperate attempt to escape Holland, which was occupied by Germany. By 1942, of course, it was nearly impossible to escape to the United States, which had placed strict limits on immigration.

The story seems to unfold in slow motion as the painstaking exchange of letters journey across continents and from state to state, their information often outdated by the time they arrive. Each page adds a layer of sorrow as the tortuous process for gaining entry to the United States — involving sponsors, large sums of money, affidavits and proof of how their entry would benefit America — is laid out. The moment the Franks and their American supporters overcame one administrative or logistical obstacle, another arose.

At one point, Frank actually obtained a Cuban visa; but ten days later, Germany declared war on the US, and the visa was cancelled. The Franks went into hiding in 1942, and stayed there until they were turned over to the Nazis in 1944.

On a related note, I’ve just started reading a 1933 novel called Little Man, What Now?, which tells the story of a small-town German couple’s married life in the inflationary nightmare of 1933—a period with which I have a (probably unhealthy) obsession. I read 100 pages last night and woke up in the middle of the night and read 100 more. At the time, which was just prior to the Third Reich, Germany’s economy was in collapse due to measures put in effect after 1923’s hyperinflation and the Great Depression in America. (In 1919, one dollar was equivalent to nine German marks; by November 1923, a dollar was worth 4,200,000,000,000 marks, making the mark 420,000 million times less valuable.) I don’t ordinarily read novels, but I can’t recommend this one highly enough.