In the spring of 1959, The Diary of Anne Frank has just come to the silver screen to great acclaim, and a young woman named Margie Franklin is working in Philadelphia as a secretary at a Jewish law firm. On the surface she lives a quiet life, but Margie has a secret: a life she once lived, a past and a religion she has denied, and a family and a country she left behind.
Margie Franklin is really Margot Frank, older sister of Anne, who did not die in Bergen-Belsen as reported, but who instead escaped the Nazis for America. But now, as her sister becomes a global icon, Margie’s carefully constructed American life begins to fall apart. A new relationship threatens to overtake the young love that sustained her during the war, and her past and present begin to collide. Margie is forced to come to terms with Margot, with the people she loved, and with a life swept up into the course of history.
It wasn't until after I received my digital copy of
Margot from Penguin that I realized it was adult, not YA as Edelweiss had labeled it. Apparently, if you choose the 14-18 age filter, it hones in on the "18" part of "18 and older." I was worried, for while the synopsis sounded interesting, I don't read adult books. My blog focuses on MG and YA books, and with all the books I have waiting to be reviewed, surely I didn't have time to be sidetracked. However, even if by accident, request it I had, so read it I must.
Sometimes, the best things arrive by accident.
As the synopsis says,
Margot is the post-war story of Margot Frank, Anne Frank's elder sister, during the height of America's romance with the younger girl's posthumous tale. In real life, Margot Frank died with her sister in Bergen-Belsen, a German concentration camp. In this book, Ms. Cantor gives the story a Anastasia-esque twist. What if Margot had survived? What if she had escaped, hidden until the end of the war, and escaped to America? What if she had chosen an American name, Margie Franklin, and told no one of her past? What if she had hidden the tattoo on her arm and slipped into comfortable, Gentile anonymity as the secretary at a Jewish law firm? And then what if, one quiet spring, her carefully constructed charade began to crumble, as all charades must?
I think I remember reading
The Diary of Anne Frank in school, but I always avoided sad books as a kid, and nothing to me seemed sadder than the diary of a dead girl my own age. I knew the gist of the story, and that was enough for me. A young Jewish girl and her family hid away in an attic, where the girl would write in her diary about a tree she saw out her window and her hopes for the future. The girl and her family would eventually be found by the Nazis, sent to camps, and die, except for the father who would then find his daughter's diary and publish it. That was all I could remember and all I thought I needed to know until I began
Margot. Once I started, it was all I could do not to run to the bookstore and find a copy of
The Diary to read from cover to cover as Margot did.
I was surprised by how easily I slipped into Margot's world. The settings - a hot, subdued Philadelphia law office with clacking typewriters, a peaceful public park, a dimly lit movie theater - all seemed very familiar and oddly comfortable. The 1950's were a relatively peaceful time in America's history, a much-needed respite from the two world wars and financial depression of the last three decades and a sort of golden era before the tumult of the approaching 60's and 70's. However, the peace was not shared by all of the nation's citizens. Though the war was long over, emigrants from Europe's war-torn nations still struggled with the emotional and physical scars the Nazis had left. While America sighed over Doris Day and Rock Hudson in
Pillow Talk, tittered over the antics of Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe in
Some Like It Hot, and abstractly mourned for the lost love of Anne Frank and Peter van Pels, those like Margot still struggled to cope.
From the beginning, I was comfortable with our heroine. I understood her and sympathized with her. "A paragon of virtue" is what Anne always called her, and a paragon of virtue is what Margot strives to be. She doesn't smoke or drink, she enjoys the companionship of her fellow secretary Shelby, and she admires her boss Joshua from afar.
I also pitied her. Margot is a very lonely woman. The Nazis cut her off from her family, her fear cuts her off from the Jewish community and true intimacy with Gentile friends, and her longing for her friend Peter cuts her off from the opportunity to live in the now. When her sister's diary is published in America, she tells no one of her connections, but instead must live her days with her dead sister's eyes watching her from every bookshop window. Then the book is turned into a movie, and her sister's and Peter's names are on everyone's lips. Ah, the tragic star-crossed lovers, Anne and her tragic and haunting tale. Margo weathers it all, unable to tell anyone that they should be looking for the quiet sister in the corner of the attic, unable even to correct the ungainly American pronunciation of the names of those she loves.
[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="384"]

Still from
The Diary of Anne Frank[/caption]
While a powerful portion deals with what Margot has loved and lost,
Margot also deals with much broader themes such as religion, what it means to be Jewish, the lingering effects of being a persecuted people, and the pain that comes from running from one's self. Ms. Cantor handles each topic with a delicate touch, certain not to protect Margot from the inevitable consequences of attempting to lie about everything she is but also capable of discussing each theme sensibly and movingly.
As a YA reader, I found the differences between
Margot and the standard plot treatment of my normal fare interesting. Several darker elements that certainly would have been capitalized in a YA novel were introduced and then conveniently forgotten by the end, and the overall plot arc was too unevenly lumpy to be a true arc. I wrote in my notes that the story "lacked teeth" in that I never felt like Margot was sufficiently threatened, though that feels like an odd thing to write about a concentration camp survivor.
Margot may not be a dark book, but it is a deep one. Instead of prose splashed with violent colors of red and black, we are instead lured into deep, shadowed shades of bruised purples and cool blues. Margot's struggles were made more intense by their hues of reality. Once upon a time, there really was a family named Frank with two sisters. Both were lost to us, one more than the other thanks to the power of the younger's words. There really was a father who survived while the rest of his family died. And there really was a race crushed by the iron fist of Germany, scattered to the four corners of the map, and forced to fight for their right to work, to be treated justly, to live without fear for decades after the war had ended.
In addition to being beautifully written,
Margot weds the power of historical fact with the allure of the "what if?" Through Margot, we are allowed to experience the heartache of lost loved ones, the struggle to remember the bad and the good, and the upbeat optimism of the 1950's in downtown New York paired with the battered hope of survivors looking for justice and a place to belong.
Points Added For: The setting, the prose, Margot herself, the what-if premise, interesting questions regarding religion
Points Subtracted For: A lack of tension
Good For Fans Of: Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein (but softer and without the suspense), the 1950's
Notes For Parents: Smoking, memories of war
Note: I received a copy of this title from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
