The Upstairs Room

Children’s innocence usually allows them to navigate the world without major worries. However, sometimes traumatic experiences force children to lose this naive outlook. Such is the case for Annie, whose experiences hiding from the Nazis, force her, over time, to face realities and assume responsibilities outside the realm of childhood innocence.

As the war begins, Annie is a carefree child who doesn’t fully grasp the magnitude of the war or her family’s situation. After they move outside Winterswijk, Annie is ecstatic when her father gets her a dog. She often took this puppy, Bobbie, out for walks and “stood in the field for a long time” (16), sometimes wandering far, exploring the land, and even making friends with a neighbor. She innocently wonders why no one’s worried about her and goes home only to hear more talk about the US, so she returns to the field, preferring exploration to a reality she doesn’t yet understand. Her innocence is apparent when she’s forced to wear a yellow Star of David: While the adults around her are furious, she thinks, “But the stars weren’t so bad. I fingered mine. It made me look grown-up” (21). Instead of feeling fear about how the star identifies her as Jewish, Annie delights in being more like the adults. She doesn’t understand the peril the star puts her in. When the time comes to go into hiding, even though Annie understands that she must escape, she’s thrilled about riding a bus by herself, whistling and swinging her suitcase along the way. Despite the initial threat of the Nazis, Annie’s childlike perspective is intact.

However, as time progresses and Annie experiences hardship through the grave responsibility to stay hidden, her innocence fades. While at the Hannink home, she’s initially delighted at the prospect of 24 hours in the underground hiding place, which she calls the cave: “I’m so excited. I wish we could stay longer than one day” (55). Naively, Annie views the ordeal as an adventure. However, once there, she sees the reality of the hiding place and “want[s] to leave now” (56). The small, dark hole differs from her imagination, forcing her to acknowledge the terror of their situation. Not until she reads the underground newspaper at the Oosterveld home, though, does Annie’s innocence entirely disappear. After reading about the gas chambers at the death camps, Annie “ha[s] trouble going on, but finish[es] the article” (112). Instead of disbelieving the news or turning away from it, she continues reading, thus learning about the concentration camps. This grim, new understanding is evident when Rachel visits and brings a postcard from their Uncle Phil and grandmother, which was written on a train to Poland. When their grandmother writes not to worry about them, Annie thinks, “Don’t worry about us. Sure. I knew what must’ve happened to them after they got off the train. I looked at Rachel out of the corner of my eye. She knew, too, or she wouldn’t have looked so solemn” (135). The younger Annie would have taken comfort in her grandmother’s words, but now that she has experienced tough conditions and learned more about the camps, she knows that her family is headed to the gas chambers. Although she doesn’t state this explicitly, it’s implicit when she acknowledges her older sister’s understanding through her grim expression. News from the underground and her experiences in hiding during the war have stripped Annie of her innocence.