Notes from the Genocide

‘On this day last year, Israel killed my grandmother, my uncle and his wife, their sons and grandchildren, and my other uncle, his wife, and their three children, and my aunt. Israel targeted the house they had fled to with three F-16 rockets.’ This is from the harrowing diary - published in Britain earlier this year - kept by a young Palestinian doctor, Ezzideen Shehab, in 2024 and 2025. Subtitled Notes from the Genocide in Gaza, Shehab’s book bears witness to the destruction everywhere around him, as well as to the intensity of his own professional and family losses. 

Ezzideen Shehab was born in 1995 and grew up in Jabalia, northern Gaza. He attended Arafat Gifted Secondary School before studying medicine at the University of Isfahan in Iran. On 2 October 2023, he returned to Gaza, where his family gathered to celebrate his qualification. Within days, he was treating casualties of the war; on 11 October, dozens of members of his extended family were killed in an Israeli airstrike. He volunteered for more than eight months at the Indonesian Hospital in northern Gaza, treating severely injured patients amid bombardment and shortages of medicines and equipment.

In December 2024, Shehab helped establish the Al-Rahma Medical Clinic, working with fellow healthcare professionals to provide free treatment in northern Gaza. Repeatedly damaged, the clinic was forced to close in July 2025. By then, he and his family had been displaced five times, their home destroyed. Alongside his medical work, he recorded his experiences and shared accounts of his patients and daily life online. In an interview with the student newspaper Honi Soit, he described medicine and writing as mutually sustaining: treating people gave him hope, while writing helped him find the clarity to continue working.

His Diary of a Young Doctor: Notes from the Genocide in Gaza was published in Australia by Readers and Writers Against the Genocide in November 2025; Scribe issued the 192-page British edition on 12 March 2026. Its dated entries combine accounts of medical work with bereavement, displacement and the struggle for food and water. The writing moves between precise observations and anguished reflection, preserving individual lives and encounters within the wider destruction. See Kill Your Darlings for a few extracts, and Googlebooks for a preview.

11 August 2024

‘Today was one of the most terrifying and exhausting days at the hospital, as we received dozens of bodies. Others were severely injured with amputations and severe burns, and there were heaps of flesh from those who could not be identified. Some patients arriving in a state that defies description. I never imagined in my life that I would witness such a scene; the pain and sorrow are overwhelming me, and the sight is beyond what any human can bear. Amidst this destruction, I felt helpless and powerless in the face of all the lives we lost. Today was a nightmare that will never be erased from my memory.’

28 August 2024

‘We are just forty-eight days away from a whole year of genocide in Gaza. Read that again: A whole year! How can the world stand idly by as a whole generation of Palestinians is erased? The clock is ticking, and with each passing day, more innocent lives are lost.’

11 October 2024

‘On this day last year, Israel killed my grandmother, my uncle and his wife, their sons and grandchildren, and my other uncle, his wife, and their three children, and my aunt. Israel targeted the house they had fled to with three F-16 rockets. They were trapped under the rubble, and the search for them continued in the hope that they might be alive for two consecutive days. Some of them, we haven’t found to this day. It was a dark day in our family’s memory. A year has passed, and I still can’t believe they are gone.’

2 April 2025

‘We have descended into a kind of existence where the sun rises not to awaken the living but to expose the damned. Our days are rituals of humiliation, long lines for water, a single container passed like a holy relic among the parched, as if thirst were a sacrament now. The water trucks hadn’t come for three days, and when at last they did, the line stretched endlessly. My brother and I waited in that dust-heavy silence, and all we could fill was one gallon - one - enough, perhaps, for a single day, if we are careful, if we are lucky.

And bread, what a tragic word. Once a symbol of life, now reduced to a memory my mother resurrects through smoke and exhaustion, kneeling at the clay oven as if begging the fire for mercy. We went looking for flour, foolishly perhaps, still possessed by the hope that something might remain. A twenty-five-kilo sack, once 25 shekels, now 400. The price of bread is now the price of despair, the cost of feeding a family now measured in the currency of cruelty. We stood there, not even angry, just hollow. Not because we were noble, but because even rage had abandoned us.

The news, when I dared to read it, was another layer of despair: a chorus of distant screams translated into headlines. And when I tried to withdraw my own money, the system - what remains of it - asked for forty percent to convert it into cash. As if desperation were something to be taxed.

Now the planes return. Their scream is no longer terrifying, it is familiar. It is the lullaby of ruin. They rip through the sky not with intent but with hunger. I feel it in my bones: tonight they will take again. And still, absurdly, we breathe. That is the miracle. That is the punishment. This is not life. This is the theatre of divine abandonment, a test with no answers, a fire with no light. And we, the scorched, keep pretending we are not ash.’

Bassompierre in London

The dashing nobleman, François de Bassompierre, a one-time favourite of King Henry IV of France who later fell out with Cardinal Richelieu, died 380 years ago today. He left behind memoirs of his life and accounts of his diplomatic missions, including an embassy to England undertaken four centuries ago this autumn. His account of that visit, translated into English in 1819, offers lively glimpses of the court of Charles I.

François de Bassompierre was born in 1579 into an aristocratic family at the Château de Haroué in Lorraine (now France). He was educated with his brothers in Bavaria and Italy, and, in 1598, was introduced to the court of Henry IV, where he became a favourite of the king. As a young man, he took part in military campaigns in Savoy in 1600 and in Hungary against the Turks in 1603. He supported Marie de’ Medici against the nobles in 1614, but sided with Louis XIII against her supporters in 1620. His service against the Huguenots earned him promotion to marshal of France in 1622, and he subsequently participated in the siege of La Rochelle in 1628. He was sent to raise troops in Switzerland when Louis XIII marched against Savoy in 1629.

Bassompierre also served as a diplomat. In 1621, he went to Madrid to settle a dispute concerning the seizure of the Valtelline forts by Spain. In 1625, he was dispatched to Switzerland, and a year later (400 years ago this autumn) to London, to negotiate over Charles I’s dismissal of the French Catholic clergy and attendants serving his wife, Henrietta Maria. Bassompierre was secretly married to Louise Marguerite, widow of François, prince de Conti, and a close friend of Marie de’ Medici. His connections with the queen mother’s faction aroused Richelieu’s suspicions, and he was imprisoned in the Bastille from 1631 until 1643, the year after the cardinal’s death. His offices were restored on his release, but he died a few years later, on 12 October 1646. Wikipedia and Encyclopaedia Britannica have further biographical information, largely drawn from the out-of-copyright 1911 edition of Encyclopædia Britannica.

Bassompierre’s memoirs, written during his imprisonment, were first published in 1665 and have been reissued many times since. Accounts of his diplomatic missions to Spain, Switzerland and England followed posthumously in 1668. The English embassy account appeared in John Wilson Croker’s translation as Memoirs of the Embassy of the Marshal de Bassompierre to the Court of England in 1626, published by John Murray in 1819. Both the French memoirs and the English translation can be read freely at Internet Archive. Here are several extracts.

15 October 1626
‘Thursday the 15th, on which the Earl of Britswater came with the king’s coaches to fetch me to Hampton Court; then the duke shewed me into a gallery, where the king was waiting for me, who gave me a long audience and well disputed. He put himself into a great passion, and I, without losing my respect to him, replied to him in such wise, that, at last, yielding him something, he conceded a great deal to me. I witnessed there an instance of great boldness, not to say impudence, of the Duke of Boukinkam, which was, that when he saw us the most warmed, he ran up suddenly and threw himself between the king and me, saying, “I am come to keep the peace between you two.” Upon which I took off my hat, and as long as he staid with us I would not put it on again, notwithstanding all the intreaties of the king and of himself to do so; but when he went I put it on without the king’s desiring me. When I had done, and that the duke could speak to me, he asked me why I would not put on my hat  while he was by, and that I did so, so freely, when he was gone. I answered that I had done it to do him honour, because he was not covered and that I should have been, which I could not suffer; for which he was much pleased with me, and often mentioned it in my praise. But I had also another reason for doing so, which was, that it was no longer an audience, but a private conversation, since he had interrupted us, by coming in, as a third, upon us. After my last audience was over, the king brought me through several galleries to the queen’s apartments, where he left me, and I her, after a long conversation; and I was brought back to London by the same Earl of Britswater.’

16 October 1626
‘Friday, the 16th, I was to see the Earl of Holland sick at Inhimthort. The king and queen returned to London. M. de Soubise came to see me. Afterwards the duke sent to beg of me to come to Sommerset, where we were more than two hours disputing about our business.’

17 October 1626
‘Saturday, the 17th, I went to make my bow to the queen at Withal, and to give her an account of my conference of the day before with the duke.’

18 October 1626
‘Sunday the 18th. I was visited by the secretary, Couvai, who came to speak to me from the king.’

20 October 1626
‘Tuesday, 20. Viscount Hamelton (Wenbleton) and Goring came to dine with me. After dinner I was heard at the council, and on my return the Venetian ambassador came to visit me.’

21 October 1626
‘Wednesday, 21st. I wrote a despatch to the King (of France). I was to see the queen, and afterwards to confer with the duke in Sommerset (House).’

22 October 1626
‘Thursday, 22d. I was in the morning to see the ambassador of Danemark. The duke, with the Earls of Carlile and Holland and Montaigne, came to dine with me; I  saw, en passant, the ambassador of the States on business, then I was to the queen’s, and that evening at Madame D’Estranges.’

23 October 1626
‘Friday, 23d. I was to see the Earl of Carlile and the Venetian ambassador.’

24 October 1626
‘Saturday, 24th. I was to see the queen where the king came, with whom she pick’d a quarrel. The king took me to his chamber, and talked a great deal with me, making me complaints of the queen, his wife.’

25 October 1626
‘Sunday, 25. The Earls of Pembrac and Montgomery came to see me, then I went for the duke, whom I took to the queen’s, who made his peace with her; which I had brought about with infinite trouble. The king came in afterwards, and he also was reconciled with her, and caressed her very much - thanked me for having reconciled the duke and his wife - then took me to his chamber, where he  showed me his jewels, which are very fine.’

26 October 1626
‘Monday, 26th. I was, in the morning to see the ambassador of Danemark; after dinner I went to the queen at Sommerset, and fell out with her.’

27 October 1626
‘Tuesday, 27th. The Duke, the Earls of Dorset, Carlile, Holland, Montaigu, and Goring, came to dine with me. I went afterwards to see the Earl of Pembroc and Carleton. In the evening I had a courrier from France.’

28 October 1626
‘Wednesday, 28th. I was at Withal in the morning to speak with the duke and Secretary Couvai, because the king was going to Hampton-Court. After dinner I went to see the queen at Sommerset, with whom I made it up. In the evening the duke and Earl of Holland took me to sup at Antonio Porter’s, who was entertaining Dom Augustin Fiesco, Marquis of Piennes, the Chevallier de Jars, and Gabellin. After supper we had music.’

29 October 1626
‘Thursday, 29th. In the morning I had visits from the Earl of Holland and the Earl of Carlile. After dinner I went to see the ambassador of Holland.’

30 October 1626
‘Friday, the 30th. I was to see the queen at Sommerset, and the duke at Valinfort. The resident of the king of Bohemia came to sup with me.’

31 October 1626
‘Saturday, last day of October. The ambassador of Danemark came to see me, and afterwards I came to see Madame D’Etrange.’

1 November 1626
‘Sunday, the 1st of November, and All Saints Day. I performed my devotions, and afterwards was to see the Duchess of Lennox and Secretary Couvai. A council was held to-day for my business.’

This article is a revised version of one first published on 12 October 2016.

Looking for a snowbow

Benjamin Banneker, a free black American who not only worked his own tobacco farm but was a self-taught astronomer and mathematician, died 220 years ago today. He is remembered today for a series of almanacs he wrote in the 1790s - an extraordinary achievement for a black man at the time - and for writing to Thomas Jefferson about racial equality and the abolition of slavery. He kept a diary as well as astronomical notebooks, but most of his personal papers were destroyed in a fire at the time of his funeral, though one journal and a few other papers survived. The surviving journal shows that Banneker was not only mathematical, philosophical and self-analytical, but he was a keen observer of nature. Several entries record dreams, in another he writes about the periodic cycle of cicadas, and in another he jokes about looking for a snowbow.

Banneker was born in 1731, in Baltimore County, Maryland. His parents were black, and his father was a freed slave. Some biographers believe that his grandmother, on his mother’s side, may have purchased his grandfather, then a slave, set him free, and then married him. Aged 6, Banneker was named on the deed of his family’s 100-acre tobacco farm in the Patapsco River valley, where he lived for most of his life. He received some elementary schooling, probably at a local Quaker school, but was largely self-taught. Somehow he learned to read, write, to play several musical instruments, and in his early 20s he crafted a wooden clock by observing the mechanics of a pocket watch. His father died in 1759.

A decade or so later, the Ellicott family - also Quakers - moved into the area, and began building mills along the Patapsco. Banneker supplied the workers with food, studied the workings of the mills, and became friendly with several of the Ellicotts. In 1788 - in his mid-50s - he began to study astronomy with books and instruments borrowed from George Ellicott, who was also interested in the subject. In 1791, at the invitation of George’s cousin Major Andrew Ellicott, Banneker joined, for a few months, a surveying team that was setting the boundaries for the new federal capital.

By 1792, Banneker had become so knowledgeable that he felt able to write and publish an astronomical almanac based on his own painstakingly-calculated ephemeris and which included solar and lunar eclipse predictions - Benjamin Banneker’s Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland and Virginia Almanac and Ephemeris, for the Year of Our Lord, 1792. It sold well, and quickly went into a second edition. Annual almanacs followed each year until 1797.

Banneker was well aware of his unusual position as a black man contributing to the sciences, and he used his almanacs to further his political views on the abolition of slavery and racial equality. He also engaged in a correspondence with Thomas Jefferson, who himself owned many slaves, and would soon become the third President of the US. Banneker never married. In his last years, he sold much of his farmland to the Ellicotts, but continued to live in his log cabin, where he died on 9 October 1806. Further information can be found at Wikipedia, PBS, or Bio.com, and from a Memoir of Benjamin Banneker by John Latrobe.

On the day of Banneker’s funeral, a fire, of unknown origin, burned the cabin, destroying many of his belongings and papers, including most of his journals and notebooks. However, one astronomical journal, a day book and a few papers survived. These were left to George Ellicott, and by the mid-19th century had been deposited with the Maryland Historical Society (now the Maryland Center for History and Culture) where they were bound together. Subsequently, the bound copy was returned to the Ellicotts, and remained hidden until 1987, when it was again given to the historical society. Some extracts from this can be found in Latrobe’s memoir about Banneker - as follows:

‘Besides his aptitude for mechanics,’ Latrobe writes, ‘and his ability as a mathematician, Banneker was an acute observer, whose active mind was constantly receiving impulses from what was taking place around him. Many instances of this are to be found in the record of his calculations, which he seems to have used occasionally as a common-place book. For instance, under date of the 27th August, 1797, he writes: “Standing at my door I heard the discharge of a gun, and in four or five seconds of time, after the discharge, the small shot came rattling about me, one or two of which struck the house; which plainly demonstrates that the velocity of sound is greater than that of a cannon bullet.” It must have been a philosophic mind, which observing the fact as here stated, drew from it the correct conclusion, and then recorded it in appropriate terms as a simple and beautiful illustration of the law of nature, with which, in all probability, he first became acquainted through its means.

Again on the 23d December, 1790, he writes: “About 3 o’clock, A.M. I heard the sound and felt the shock like unto heavy thunder. I went out but could not observe any cloud above the horizon. I therefore conclude it must be a great earthquake in some part of the globe.” A similar conclusion from the same facts was drawn by a greater man than Banneker near eighteen hundred years before, and recorded to be commented on in after ages.

Nor was Banneker’s observation confined to matters of a philosophical character. There is evidence in the memoranda of his record book that natural history was equally interesting to him. The following, independent of its connection with the subject of our memoir, possesses general interest as an authentic statement by an eye-witness of a curious fact in entomology. In April, 1800, he writes: “The first great locust year that T can remember was 1749. I was then about seventeen years of age, when thousands of them came and were creeping up the trees and bushes. I then imagined they came to eat and destroy the fruit of the earth, and would occasion a famine in the land. I therefore began to kill and destroy them, but soon saw that my labour was in vain, and therefore gave over my pretension. Again in the year 1766, which is seventeen years after their first appearance, they made a second, and appeared to me to be full as numerous as the first. I then, being about thirty-four years of age, had more sense than to endeavour to destroy them, knowing they were not so pernicious to the fruit of the earth as I imagined they would be. Again in the year 1783, which was seventeen years since their second appearance to me, they made their third; and they may be expected again in the year 1800, which is seventeen years since their third appearance to me. So that if I may venture to express it, their periodical return is seventeen years: but they, like the comets, make but a short stay with us. The female has a sting in her tail as sharp and hard as a thorn, with which she perforates the branches of the trees, and in the holes lays eggs. The branch soon dies and falls. Then the egg, by some occult cause immerges a great depth into the earth, and there continues for the space of seventeen years as aforesaid.” [. . .]

The last extract we shall make from the record book is one which indicates a relish for the beautiful in nature, as well by his undertaking to record a description of what he saw, as by the language which he uses. The extract is from the last pages of the book, when he was in his seventy-first year. His writing is still distinct, but the letters have lost their firmness, and shew that his hand trembled as it held the pen.

“1803, Feb. 2d. In the morning part of the day, there arose a very dark cloud, followed by snow and hail, a flash of lightning and loud thunder crack; and then the storm abated until afternoon, when another cloud arose at the same point, viz: the north-west, with a beautiful shower of snow. But what beautified the snow was the brightness of the sun, which was near setting at the time. I looked for the rainbow, or rather snowbow, but I think the snow was of too dense a nature to exhibit the representation of the bow in the cloud.” ’

The Maryland Historical Society blog, Underbelly, gives a brief description of Banneker’s journal: ‘Some of the more remarkable pages in this ledger show graphic projections for solar and lunar eclipses. In addition to these formulas there are also practical descriptions of how Banneker obtained the geocentric latitudes of planets, the movements of stars, and the different quarters of the moon in every day language. This journal is much more than a mathematical ledger though - its contents give a much fuller glimpse of who Banneker was as a person. It is interspersed with accounts of his day-to-day life, including descriptions of his interactions with his neighbors and friends the Ellicotts, close encounters with armed intruders on his property, descriptions of the a brood of 17-year cicada from 1749, and the most notable section, a copy of the correspondence between Benjamin Banneker and Thomas Jefferson. But in this writer’s opinion, the most unique contents of the journal are Banneker’s detailed descriptions of the dreams and nightmares that woke him in the night. A transcription of his mysterious dream accounts appear below in chronological order.’

The blog then quotes a few extracts, as follows:

5 December 1791
‘On the night of the fifth of December 1791, Being a deep Sleep, I dreamed that I was in a public Company, one of them demanded of me the limits of Rassanah Crandolph’s Soul had to display itself in, after it departed from her Body and taken its flight. In answer I desired that he show me the place of Beginning “thinking it like making a Survey of the Land.” He replied I cannot inform you but there is a man about three days journey from Hence that is able to satisfy your demand, I forthwith went to the man and requested of him to inform me place of beginning of the limits that Rasannah Crandolph’s soul had to display itself in, after the Seperation from her Body; who gave me answer, the Vernal Equinox, When I returned I found the Company together and I was able to Solve their Doubts by giving them the following answer Quincunx.’

13 December 1797
‘I Dreamed I saw some thing passing by my door to and fro, and when I attempted to go to the door, it would vanish and reapted [?] it twice or thrice, at length I let in the infernal Spirit and he told me that he had been concerned with a woman by the name of Beckey Freeman (I never heard the name as I remember) by some means we fell into a Skirmish, and I threw him behind the fire and endeavored to burn him up but all in vain- I know not what became of him but he was an ill formed being- Some part of him in Shape of a man, but hairy as a beast, his feet was circular or rather globular and did not exceed an inch and a half in diameter, but while I held him in the fire he said something respecting he was able to stand it, but I forget his words. B. Banneker’

24 April 1802
‘I dreamed I had a fawn or young deer; whose hair was white and like unto lamb’s wool , and all parts about it beautiful to behold. Then I said to myself I will set this little captive at liberty, but I will first clip the tips of his ear that I may know him if I should see him again. Then taking a pair of shears and cutting off the tip of one ear, and he cried like unto a child hath the pain which grieved him very much altho then I did not attempt to cut the other but was very sorry for that I had done I got him at liberty and he ran a considerable distance then he stopped and he looked back at me I advanced toward him, and he came and met me and I took a lock of wool from my garment and wiped the blood of wound which I had made on him (which sorely affected me) I took him in my arms and brought him home and hold him on my knees, he asked the Woman if she had any trust and she answered him in the affirmative and gave him Some, which he began to eat and then asked for milk in a cup She said the dog had got the cup with milk in it under the house but there is milk in the cupboard.

My dream left me. B. Banneker.’

24 April 1802
‘Being weary holing for corn, I laid down on my bed and fell into a deep sleep and dreamed I had a child in my arms and was viewing the back part of its head where it had been sore, and I found it was healed with a hole through the skin and Skull bone and came out at forehead, that I could see very distinctly through the child’s head the hole being large enough to receive an ordinary finger – I called some woman to see the strange sight, and she put her spectacles on and Saw it, and she asked me if I had previously lanced that place in the Child’s head, I answered in the affirmative.

N.B. the Child is well as any other.’

This article is a revised version of one first published on 9 October 2016.

Václav Havel as diarist

Václav Havel, the Czech political dissident and human rights activist who became the last president of Czechoslovakia and the first president of the Czech Republic, would have been 90 today. He was also a playwright of some distinction, and, as a young man, used his plays to criticise the Communist regime. A few years before his death, he published a memoir which included a diary he kept during 2005; and in 2016 the Václav Havel Library published a previously unknown diary Havel had kept while in prison during 1977.

Havel was born in Prague on 5 October 1936 into an intellectual and wealthy family, though much of the family’s property was confiscated after the Communist takeover in 1948. Disallowed from studying humanities because of his bourgeois background, he worked as a lab technician before enrolling in the economics faculty at the Czech Technical University, though he dropped out after two years. Following military service in the late 1950s, he found work in the theatre and soon began writing plays, such as The Garden Party (Zahradní slavnost) and The Memo (Vyrozumění). At the same time, he became increasingly involved in literary and political life. In 1964, he married Olga Šplíchalová.

By the mid-1960s, Havel had become one of the leading figures at Prague’s Theatre on the Balustrade. He made a brief trip to the US for a production of The Memo in New York, which helped establish his international reputation. Back home, he was a prominent supporter of the liberal reforms of 1968, known as the Prague Spring. But following the Soviet-led Warsaw Pact invasion in August, Havel’s plays were banned and his passport confiscated. He moved to live in the countryside, where he maintained his political activities, largely on behalf of human rights, and continued writing plays. He was a co-founder of Charter 77, and in 1978 wrote one of his best-known essays, The Power of the Powerless, which explored how individuals and civil society could resist a totalitarian system. It was secretly but widely circulated in Czechoslovakia and other Warsaw Pact countries. He was repeatedly arrested in the 1970s and 1980s, serving several years in prison, but resisted pressure to emigrate.

In late 1989, Havel, by then a leading figure in Civic Forum, emerged as one of the leaders of the Velvet Revolution. By unanimous vote of the Federal Assembly in December, he was elected President; and following the first free national elections for over 40 years in June 1990, in which Civic Forum and its Slovak counterpart Public Against Violence emerged victorious, the Federal Assembly re-elected him as president. He stepped down in 1992 as Czechoslovakia moved towards break-up, but was elected first president of the independent Czech Republic in early 1993. His wife died in 1996, and the same year he was diagnosed with lung cancer and underwent major surgery. He was re-elected president in 1998, though by this time, with most power vested in the prime minister’s office rather than the presidency, and amid various domestic controversies, he was more popular abroad than at home. He stepped down in 2003, having by then married the actress Dagmar Veškrnová.

Havel returned more fully to writing, producing a new play in 2008, which was enthusiastically received, and publishing a memoir of his time as president. Paul Wilson translated the latter, which was published in English, also in 2008, by Portobello Books under the title To the Castle and Back. Havel died in 2011, having received, from the early 1990s onwards, many state honours and international awards. Further information is available online from Wikipedia and many obituaries, for example the BBC, The Guardian and The New York Times.

Although Havel was not a committed diarist, or so it seems, he did keep a diary at different times in his life. In 2016, the Václav Havel Library published in facsimile a previously unknown diary he had kept in 1977 while in investigative custody following the launch of Charter 77. Entitled Zápisky obviněného (Notes of the Accused), it consists of fragmentary and often abbreviated entries made in an ordinary appointment diary between January and July 1977. Havel himself had apparently never mentioned its existence. It was discovered decades later among the papers of his friend and adviser Zdeněk Urbánek, when Urbánek’s grandson, David Dušek, was sorting through his grandfather’s estate. The facsimile was published with explanatory essays by Dušek, Anna Freimanová, Martin Palouš, Paul Wilson and Michael Žantovský.

Havel also kept a diary during 2005 while working on his memoir, To the Castle and Back. The book is made up of three elements: substantial extracts from dated memos to his staff during his time in office as president, answers to a series of interview questions, and sometimes lengthy extracts from his 2005 diary - see below for two such extracts. The book can also be previewed online at Amazon and Google Books.

29 April 2005
‘I have been to two more “political dinners” at Madeleine’s; many important people were there, such as the former secretary of defense William Cohen; the director of PBS, Mrs. Pat Mitchell; Senator Barbara Mikulski; the Democratic leader in the House of Representatives, Mrs. Nancy Pelosi; the deputy secretary of state, Mr. Nicholas Bums; and many others. Many of them I had met on earlier occasions, others I had once been introduced to, but I had forgotten those earlier encounters. Madeleine, once again, moderated the discussion wonderfully; it was lively and spontaneous and exhausting, naturally. I had the constant feeling that I was speaking of things about which these people knew more than I did, and moreover I was doing so in a language I don’t know very well. Now that it’s over I’m glad I did it, and I’m grateful to Madeleine.

It’s paradoxical: every evening I meet with the most important people here, and then, during the day, I run afoul of banal American red tape. Yesterday, for example, we had to return our rental car and then turn right around and rent it again, even though we’d already paid for another month. I understand the thing itself - it’s an accounting matter. What I don’t understand is why the transaction consumed almost an entire, valuable American day. Standing at the window where all this took place, and where more and more complications kept surfacing, I found it hard not to lose my temper. My Czech pistoleer often uses a trick I don’t much like: he reveals who I am - if I’m not recognized, that is. But in this democratic country, favoritism is out of favor, and so the results are always the same: great delight that they’ve met me, great astonishment that I, of all people, have turned up here, of all places - and then an immediate return to the original situation. It doesn’t speed things up by even a minute. That was yesterday. I barely had time to change for dinner at Madeleine’s.

But that wasn’t the end of it; two unpleasant things happened this morning. The first was something I knew was bound to happen, that is, our Barnabas, Mr. Edler, was nowhere to be found, and so they wouldn’t let us into our parking spot. (Later the director of the Kluge Center had to sort things out himself at the entrance.) And the second thing was something I could not have known would happen, and which says something about the state of my memory. At the entrance to the library, where they put my bag through a scanner, they discovered a metal kitchen knife in it, which is not allowed. I expressed surprise and denied it, of course, because I’d completely forgotten that I’d put the knife in my bag that morning so I could spread jam on my roll. They searched the bag and I was caught red-handed. There was nothing to do but hope I wouldn’t be arrested, then go outside and toss the knife in the garbage. (Fortunately it was not made of silver.) I felt very silly.

I often can’t understand Americans when they speak, especially black Americans, and this is the source of many other embarrassing moments. Yesterday, for example, a young black man who was with me in the elevator told me how much he admired me and asked me for my autograph. Then he mumbled something I didn’t catch, though it was evidently a question. For the sake of simplicity, I replied, “Yes.” As soon as I’d spoken, I realized that he was asking me if I had written The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I couldn’t very well change my answer, and there was no escaping, so I had to remain in a state of embarrassment until the moment of liberation when our elevator arrived at the right floor. A truly Kunderian situation.’

28 November 2005
‘For the whole of September and October I never stopped. Yet what did I actually do? I visited several European countries, had a lot of meetings and visits and discussions, and made countless speeches - and all at a time of year when I’m usually under the weather. I’m quite surprised that I survived it all without any damage to my health. I’m at Hradecek once more, but there’s a lot of snow here now and the trees are beautifully cloaked in white. I’m really like a hermit here. (Hradecek is off by itself and my only neighbor is my friend Andrej Krob, who has a cottage nearby, but he’s not there now.) Yesterday I watched a thriller on television and then I realized that for the first time in my life I felt afraid here. The very thought that I might suddenly glimpse the movement of a human shadow gave me goose bumps and heart palpitations. I stopped getting the newspapers a while ago, and my news comes from television. I read the papers only when I happen across one. The last time that happened was several days ago on the plane from Budapest, when I discovered I was the subject of a scandal. The Czech media are up in arms because I have apparently supported our new prime minister. The whole thing obviously started a while ago, when he invited me for coffee, and as we were leaving we were waylaid by a journalist who asked me how I’d have gotten along with the current prime minister if I were still president. I said I thought we’d hit it off. By that I meant that I would not have been having constant public squabbles with the prime minister over how to interpret the constitution, as our current president does. I should have expressed myself more precisely or concretely, but still, why there should have been a controversy or even a scandal over this, I have no idea. But obviously I can’t understand everything.’

This article is a revised version of one first published on 5 October 2016.