On the Diary

[A Writer's Diary] Holograph Notebook. November 16, 1918-January 24, 1919. (Berg)

A diary is often perceived as the most intimate form of writing, a window into the writer’s mind. Stripped of the filters of traditional genre forms and serving as a sort of unmediated truth, the diary’s value lies not only in its content but in the material object itself—details such as the writer’s handwriting, sketches, and even the kind of notebook used can be telling. Because of their intimate, often confessional nature, they reveal in the writer what is most human about them, and readers may treat any surviving trace as precious. An archival obsession takes hold, turning readers, publishers, and heirs into an archeological team.

Yet the most celebrated diaries also raise ethical dilemmas. Max Brod ignored Franz Kafka’s request to burn his papers and published them alongside his diaries. Ted Hughes destroyed Sylvia Plath’s final journals after her death. 

So, why do we care so much about these private texts? And when does the pursuit of art or literary history become important enough to override consent?

On the Diary explores these questions in three installments: first, what defines a diary (and how it differs from drafts, confessional poetry, autofiction, and stream-of-consciousness); second, how publishers and editors shape such fragmented material; and third, the legal and ethical dilemmas of publishing these works.


Thanks to the Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal in Paris, this column will be enriched with original pictures of Raymond Queneau’s journals and a comparative analysis of the manuscripts versus the printed edition by Gallimard.

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Anna Erre is a French editor based in Paris and specialized in law books. She also draws and is learning how to tattoo; her portfolio is available here.