Biography
‘Growing up in Friesland in a family of teachers, I realized at an early age that I wanted to write. Not just because I loved books and reading, but also because writing seemed such a beautiful way to discover the world. Initially I studied Art History, then later made a switch and graduated in mass communication in Amsterdam. At the time there were no post docs in Journalism in the Netherlands, so I moved to London in 1998 to do a MA in International Journalism. These studies contained a number of traineeships, located both in England as well as here in the Netherlands, which is how I became an editor at the magazine then called Haagse Post, just before its merger with De Tijd.
At HP/De Tijd I soon realized that I wasn’t built for ‘tough’ news-journalism, and I specialized in reconstructions and portrayals - journalistic genres of which I had seen the best examples in Britain. To this day I find it fascinating to talk with many different people about a certain subject, to read about it, and finally combining the pieces from these different sources into a coherent story and trying to tell it in the best possible way. I had a lot of freedom in choosing my subjects: I wrote about well- and lesser known people, about groups of artists who were experiencing an eventful period together, about crimes and political events, such as the squatters’ riots on Queens day 1980, or the Dutchmen that left for Paris in May 1968. But there always was a strong historical component in my stories, and the basic question would always be: how did it all happen in this way? And subsequently: what did it result in?
My first book, Jagtlust, was a logical step after my journalistic work. For years I had been hearing stories in literary circles about this mythical rural estate in het Gooi, where everything that was young and artistic had gathered in the nineteen fifties and sixties. Nothing could be written about it because the former principal occupier, poetess Fritzi ten Harmsen van der Beek, didn't want the stories to become public. Thanks especially to the cooperation and trust of publisher Theo Sontrop and Remco Campert – who I already knew from previous articles I had written– I was able to capture the Jagtlust history in the book of the same name, which was published in 1998 at Meulenhoff.
By then, the step towards a ‘real’, large scale biography was just a small one, even though it meant I would be leaving journalism. By the end of 1999 I quit my job, to start working on Annie M.G. Schmidt’s biography. In this process the writer’s son, Flip van Duijn, and her publisher Ary Langbroek, played an especially stimulating role. From the very beginning they supported the sort of book I had in mind: a biography based on Anglo-Saxon fundamentals, that would contain her life story as completely as possible, while at the same time being a thrilling story, interesting regardless of whether you had heard of Annie M.G. Schmidt before. Simply because it is always fascinating to see the way in which people lead their lives, how they play the cards that fate has dealt them, and the historical frame within which everything takes place.
Anna was published in 2002 and turned out to be such a success, that I was able to cancel the job I had arranged for myself as a substitute at the editorial board of the news magazine Vrij Nederland. All of a sudden I had been given room to write another book – and there was nothing I wanted more, because after two quiet years up in the attic with Annie it wasn’t easy getting used to being the center of public attention. And then, a story came to my mind that I had heard years before and that had stuck with me ever since – the story of two people who disappeared under the ruins of world history, somewhere during the last year of the Second World War, leaving behind only one son and the memory of their extraordinary love story.
For two years I dedicated myself to resurrecting and retelling the lost lives of Waldemar and Rika Nods, without ever having the illusion that this small book would even come close to the success of the Schmidt biography. But as soon as we had presented the first copy to their son on November 17, 2004, his 75th birthday, it became clear that I wasn’t the only one who was inexplicably drawn to this story. Sonny Boy turned out to be what booksellers refer to as a ‘mega seller’, and gave me the prospect of a life in which I could continue to write.
I realize that as a writer I am lucky. Literary non-fiction is one of the most popular genres today, and history is ‘en vogue’. Especially the latter is important, because no matter how my topics diverge, history is always their common denominator, and especially the adventures of the ‘little’ people related to the bigger events happening around them. The subject of my next biography – by which I hope to obtain my doctorate in history, supervised by Professor Hans Blom – is therefore a man who especially fascinates me as a product of his time and environment: Prince Bernhard, the father of our queen, who passed away in 2004. With this subject I am again stepping into a completely new, unknown world, but that is exactly what I enjoy about it: to me writing remains an exiting expedition, the same way reading has always been.’
faq about Bernhard
Since the autumn of 2004, Annejet van der Zijl is working on a biography of Prince Bernhard. A scientific edition of this book will be published as well, with which she hopes to obtain her doctorate in History at the University of Amsterdam. Professor Hans Blom, former CEO of NIOD, will supervise.
Why Prince Bernhard?
If there is one leitmotiv to be found in my body of work, it is my desire to look ‘behind’ the myths. In my days of journalism I once wrote a story about Bernhard’s London years and I already noticed back then the large gap between his public image – the good and bad parts – and the often much more prosaic reality behind it. I also like the historical aspect of this particular life: Bernhard is linked to world history in so many ways that by telling his story one can tell the story of a whole century. He is irrefutably one of the most colorful figures of the last century and for that reason alone he deserves a serious biography.
And finally, there is a more personal reason. So far my main characters have always been women, and I am curious to find out whether I can write a convincing book about a man. And Bernhard is of course, at least at first sight, one of the most ‘manlike’ men imaginable.
What kind of book will it be?
The book will be written in the same style as the one about Annie M.G. Schmidt, a biography based on Anglo-Saxon fundamentals with a strong emphasis on the storytelling aspect, simply because I prefer this style for a biography. Like Anna, the underlying psychological question will be: What makes Sammy run? What were the main character’s motives, what shaped him as a person and as a historical figure, and out of which character structure and general view on the world did he make his decisions?
And… will there be any revelations?
To be honest, I never really like this question. Bernhard has always been – not in the least by his own doing - put in an atmosphere of revelations and excitement. He was a restless man, with an extremely cluttered life. My ambition is to distill a solid, organized, and coherent story from this jumble of stories, myths, and rumors. Therefore I am not looking for revelations in themselves, but more particularly for a new image that can explain him and put him in a historical perspective.
How cooperative are the Royal Family?
So far, the RVD have treated me very well and have been very cooperative, but the lengths they will – and most of all can – go to in the long run, is something that will have to show as the project progresses. Cooperating with the family as closely as I used to with my other books is clearly not possible, and I do miss that. However, this is compensated by all the help and cooperation I am receiving through other canals. Ever since it became known that I am working on this subject, I have been approached from all directions by people who want to tell me their stories and give tips. One person’s uncle used to go hunting with him, another person’s cousin used to work in his staff; others still remember him from the war or one of the many social organizations he used to be involved in. This makes me very happy. Not just because of the – often valuable – information I’m getting, but it also gives me a sense of being supported: it seems as if the whole country feels that it is time for a well-balanced book about Bernhard, and puts its trust in me to write it.
And what’s next?
The challenge of this project is mainly the subject itself: will I succeed in putting this life, this man, into a book, in a convincing as well as readable way? After that I would like to experiment a little in form and style again – do something small, for myself, in the same way as Sonny Boy was meant at the time.