“In the end, there is something artificial in the very fact of keeping a private diary; nowhere does the act of writing seem more false,” Mihail Sebastian wrote in his diary. “It lacks the excuse of being a means of communication, just as it lacks any immediate necessity.” It is ironic that his private diary has indeed become “a means of communication,” as it was eventaully published and read by many. Like Sebastian, I have been journaling consistently for the past year or so, and I made the resolution to journal everyday in July, which I have so far kept. Will anyone ever read my diary? Who would that person be? I wonder.


Journal: 1935 – 1944 is a collection of diaries composed by Romanian writer Mihail Sebastian before and during the Second World War under the anti-Semeitic fascist Romanian regime that allied itself with the Axis powers. The book was first published in Romania in 1996 and translated to English by Patrick Camiller. As a Jew, Sebastian saw his personal freedoms and dignity stripped away by the government as Europe became more Nazified. Living in the capital, Bucharest, however, Sebastian was fortunate compared to the hundreds of thousands of Jews living in Romania that were deported and massacred, as he lived to see the victory of the Allies. But tragically and almost absurdly, Sebastian was hit and killed by a truck of the Soviet Red Army in downtown Bucharest in 1945 at the age of thirty-eight.

At first the book may appear at times confusing to the reader because of the references to places and people Sebastian made in his diaries. When Mihail Sebastian wrote these diaries, of course, he had no need to introduce the “characters” that he was all too familiar with, but for an outsider reading these diaries, the numerous names of people and places that pop up in the book can be overwhelming and hard to keep track of. Sebastian also frequently made references to places in Romania and Europe, such as his vacation spots–Sinaia, Predeal (both for skiing), and Balchik (a Black Sea coastal town). For someone who is unfamiliar with the geography of Eastern Europe, the names of these places carry little significance, and can even cause frustration. Luckily, a list of people who are mentioned regularly in the book and a map of Romania and its neighboring states are included at the beginning of the book. With some patience, one will gradually develop a general sense of the geography and the relations of people mentioned in the book.

Another hurdle that may dissuade people from reading the book before they discover its brilliance is that the sentences may seem dry and devoid of literary craftsmanship at times. Again, this is because Sebastian was writing for himself, and he could care less about the form of the writing and focus more on his ideas and feelings. Most sentences are plain, short, direct, and clear, so if you are looking for beautifully crafted sentences sparkled with clever metaphors or similes, then you will likely be disappointed.

However, once the reader gets over the initial confusion and the somewhat prosaic writing style, he is bound to be impressed by the authenticity of the diaries. The reader will discover Sebastian’s penchant for classical music, such as pieces by Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart, as he recorded the music he listened to on the radio in his diaries whenever he could. The reader will also discover that Sebastian was a passionate skier and avid reader. The reader will meet the various people in Sebastian’s life, and his love for his brother Poldy and mama will become apparent. His worries are also presented to us without any reservation. Sebastian worried about money and wrote about it often. He also worried about others’ opinions about his literary works, such as his play The Accident, and he was often self-critical of his own works. As the anti-Semeitic regime gained power, Sebastian worried about the safety of himself and his family. As one reads the book, it’s hard not to love Sebastian for his genuinity and sympathize with his financial troubles and dire circumstances.

Shifting our focus away from what’s happening in Bucharest and to Mihail Sebastian, we discover that the book also lets us watch history unfold in front of our eyes from a first person perspective. Sebastian wrote down the political and military events that took place in Europe and beyond before and during the war. The reader will find familiar events such as the Dunkirk evacuation in the book and perhaps even shiver once he realizes its significance at that time–the hope that Dunkirk planted in the hearts of people who were suffering. On June 5, 1940, Sebastian wrote:

But the fact that last week Dunkirk did not seem lost and was by some miracle actually resisting, as well as the fact that in the end 350,000 soldiers were carried to safety by sea, reduced the scale of the disaster and made it to some extent bearable. (294)

Despite the simplicity and the almost neutral tone of this sentence, it makes the reader feel uplifted and emotional, as if Dunkirk had just happened. The reader will also see familiar names, such as Churchill, Hitler, Roosevelt and Stalin, and be astonished as it seems he is living among these people. As one reads the book, he also cannot possibly ignore the anti-Seimistist policies of the fascist Romanian government during the war. It is heartbreaking to read about the deportation of tens of thousands of Jews living in Romania and their eventual persecution in concentration camps.

Sebastian’s writing has the power to bring the reader to the time of the war. The reader may even for a moment forget about the outcome of the war that we are all too familiar with and watch history happen with suspense. He may map the places that are mentioned in the book–such as Le Havre, Rouen, Verdun, Bordeaux, and follow the development of the war. He may realize that the outcome of the war was never certain until its final moment, although in hindsight the victory of the Allies seems all too assured. A good book of history brings history closer to the reader, but a great one brings the reader closer to history. Journal is the latter.

Journal is also a book that makes its reader wonder about the nature of language. Sebastian wondered about the role of language in his own diaries because he didn’t quite understand the objective of journaling. On New Year’s Day, 1941, Sebastian wrote:

In the end, there is something artificial in the very fact of keeping a private diary; nowhere does the act of writing seem more false. It lacks the excuse of being a means of communication, just as it lacks any immediate necessity. (301)

However, he nonetheless believed it’s good to journal consistently so he could “look with [his] eyes open at everything that was happening” (301). For Sebastian, writing perhaps was the only way to momentarily alleviate the unimaginable stress he felt and let him observe what was happening with “open eyes” and emotional detachment. Therefore, it seems communication is not the only purpose of language: it is also a tool for reflection and introspection that can improve one’s mental state.

One naturally will wonder what was left unsaid in these notes. Under what state of mind did the author write? Was he writing when he could muster the strength, or was he writing when he was seriously depressed? How did Sebastian feel before and after he wrote? These questions will lead the reader to ponder about the limitations of language. Language seems incapable of capturing one’s feelings fully, let alone preserving the feelings one must have under such extraordinary circumstances. Sebastian knew this, too. He did not purposefully attempt to use literary devices–metaphors, similes, symbolism–to convey his feelings as accurately as possible, because he knew that no figure of speech and no combination of words could truly communicate with others the intense feelings he had. He simply did not bother with it. Reading the book makes one realize that many things can only be felt, not said, not shared. These things belong to only the person who feels it, always and forever.

His reader will also wonder along with Sebastian about human nature. Sebastian could not understand why people, his friends included, were so opportunistic and quick to adapt to the deeply unjust and anti-Semeitic fascist ideologies. How secure is the fabric of democracy? One may wonder. How quickly can people lose their conscience and how easy is it to manipulate others?

In sum, Journal is unintentionally thought-provoking and authentic. It offers a glimpse into the inner workings of a great mind whose departure from the world was too soon and tragic, and brings whoever reads it to Bucharest, to the Second World War, and to somewhere far away, where people with their “faded, diminished, lethargic life” waited to “emerge from sleep and start living again” (585).