Like a bone lodged in the gullet, twenty years after it's gone Meyer Levin is still choking on his The Diary of Anne Frank travail. Nothing -- four analysts, threats from his wife, a court case (actor Joseph Schildkraut once verbally assaulted him for having the chutzpah to sue Otto Frank, a victim of the Holocaust), ads placed in newspapers to give his side of the story, endless appeals to the press (which apparently considers Levin's problems less than front-page news) as well as to political figures and celebrities (Eleanor Roosevelt, Dore Schary, Louis Nizer among them) -- can seem to still the author's ""obsession"" that there exists a ""politically motivated"" conspiracy against him by a group (originally Lillian Hellman, Kermit Bloomgarden and a long list that has since grown to include The New York Review, Kirkus Reviews) which having succeeded in ""suppressing"" his dramatic adaptation of the Diary (Albert and Frances Hackett wrote the final script) is still out to get him. His Zionist views don't square with their ""Party directives."" How much sleep, one wonders, are his influential literary ""enemies"" really losing hatching their plots -- yet, Levin argues, witness the critical reception or, as the case may be, lack of attention given to his books (he will have it both ways): The Settlers, Eva, The Fanatic. A nutty, embarrassing book, potentially explosive, which leaves a reader shaking the head, muttering and paraphrasing Freud: ""Levin, what does he want?