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From "A Journal of Love" #3
Fire: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1937
In this “erotically charged�(Publishers Weekly) diary that picks up where Incest left off, Nin chronicles a restless search for fulfillment that leads her to New York City-”that brilliant giant toy� -then back to Paris and Henry, and eventually into the arms of a passionate new lover.
434 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1987
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About the author
Anaïs Nin
349books8,360followersWriter and diarist, born in Paris to a Catalan father and a Danish mother, Anaïs Nin spent many of her early years with Cuban relatives. Later a naturalized American citizen, she lived and worked in Paris, New York and Los Angeles. Author of avant-garde novels in the French surrealistic style and collections of erotica, she is best known for her life and times in The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Volumes I-VII (1966-1980).
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 68 reviews
December 7, 2014
...following one's instincts alone is human, that faithfulness in love is unnatural, that morality is man-made ideology, that self-denial, which is necessary to be good, is denial of the bad natural self out of self-protection, and thus the most selfish thing of all.
Anaïs Nin (1903-1977) began her diaries at age 11 years old as a personal letter to the father who deserted her, her mother and brother. It became a necessary part of her existence, written with melodic lyricism of sex and love. Worked and reworked into a hefty fifty year record, it took the shape of a hybridized art form, serving as a confessional and confidante, a scribbler's notebook, an extremely candid autobiography, a self-research project, and to those who knew her personally, a literary monument interspersed with fiction; leaving many critics to call it a 'journal-novel.'
Fire flows like a continuous private moment focused on the many facets of love, covering Nin's multiple romantic relationships from Hugh Guiler (her husband), simultaneous liaisons with Gonzalo Moré and Dr. Otto Rank (her psychoanalyst) to name a few, to the long standing, complex affair with Henry Miller. Set between Europe and America, Nin paraded alternately as friend, paramour, muse, seductress, artist, woman; duplicitous, illusive shape-shifter.
The entries stand as an authentic, reflective self-exploration, an unrepressed, uninhibited, immodest record of her life, without artifice or shame or apology. Nin habitually wrote as soon as events happened to preserve their emotional power. She faced her writing with the obsessiveness and desperation of an addict needing her 'opium' . Without it, she felt neither real nor original nor alive.
Intimate thoughts and emotions pulsate through her pen organically, passionately, sensually, frenzied. More than mere scribblings of unregulated emotions, Nin self-analyzes with insight deep and incisive, of a degree less from an intuitive or sharpened sense of perception than a honed, disciplined psychoanalytic understanding of human behavior.
Fire, flammable to the senses though small in proportion to what must be a complex, multi-layered set of journals, is as fascinating as a novel compact with sensational characters all portrayed in vibrant colors. Crafted by the tool of a skilled artist - as a woman with the beauty of Venus and the sensual power of the feminine mystique; as a writer with the elegant hand for sultry, poetic prose and a touch of the surreal; as an unbound dabbler in the unconventional and an astute analyzer of it - it is obvious that Nin's greatest creation is herself.
Fire clearly represents the feverish push toward Nin's most ardent desire; the neurotic, breathless, unbridled motion toward satisfaction, the climactic discovery, that is to say - the ultimate knowing and understanding of herself.
This is the story of my incendiary neurosis! I only believe in fire. Life. Fire. Being myself on fire I set others on fire. Never death. Fire and life. Le jeux.
My first thought of Anaïs Nin's Fire
My second thoughts of Anaïs Nin's Fire
Original comment posted on Aug 9th : it's 2 a.m. and I need a cold shower!
Anaïs Nin (1903-1977) began her diaries at age 11 years old as a personal letter to the father who deserted her, her mother and brother. It became a necessary part of her existence, written with melodic lyricism of sex and love. Worked and reworked into a hefty fifty year record, it took the shape of a hybridized art form, serving as a confessional and confidante, a scribbler's notebook, an extremely candid autobiography, a self-research project, and to those who knew her personally, a literary monument interspersed with fiction; leaving many critics to call it a 'journal-novel.'
Fire flows like a continuous private moment focused on the many facets of love, covering Nin's multiple romantic relationships from Hugh Guiler (her husband), simultaneous liaisons with Gonzalo Moré and Dr. Otto Rank (her psychoanalyst) to name a few, to the long standing, complex affair with Henry Miller. Set between Europe and America, Nin paraded alternately as friend, paramour, muse, seductress, artist, woman; duplicitous, illusive shape-shifter.
The entries stand as an authentic, reflective self-exploration, an unrepressed, uninhibited, immodest record of her life, without artifice or shame or apology. Nin habitually wrote as soon as events happened to preserve their emotional power. She faced her writing with the obsessiveness and desperation of an addict needing her 'opium' . Without it, she felt neither real nor original nor alive.
Intimate thoughts and emotions pulsate through her pen organically, passionately, sensually, frenzied. More than mere scribblings of unregulated emotions, Nin self-analyzes with insight deep and incisive, of a degree less from an intuitive or sharpened sense of perception than a honed, disciplined psychoanalytic understanding of human behavior.
Gonzalo is a sensual volcano, afire, never enough. I am ready to ask for mercy! I did not believe, after all the idealism, the chastity, the emotionalism, that we could descend into this furnace of animal desire. Now it is several times in one moment, until we lie dead with exhaustion. He smears his face with honey and sperm, we kiss in this odor and wetness, and we possess each other over and over again madly. Yet I cannot have an orgasm. Why, why, why?
Fire, flammable to the senses though small in proportion to what must be a complex, multi-layered set of journals, is as fascinating as a novel compact with sensational characters all portrayed in vibrant colors. Crafted by the tool of a skilled artist - as a woman with the beauty of Venus and the sensual power of the feminine mystique; as a writer with the elegant hand for sultry, poetic prose and a touch of the surreal; as an unbound dabbler in the unconventional and an astute analyzer of it - it is obvious that Nin's greatest creation is herself.
I live in a sort of furnace of affections, loves, desires, inventions, creations, activities, and reveries. I cannot describe my life in facts because the ecstasy does not lie in the facts, in what happens or what I do, but in what is aroused in me and what is created out of all this... I live in a very physical and metaphysical reality all together...
Fire clearly represents the feverish push toward Nin's most ardent desire; the neurotic, breathless, unbridled motion toward satisfaction, the climactic discovery, that is to say - the ultimate knowing and understanding of herself.
This is the story of my incendiary neurosis! I only believe in fire. Life. Fire. Being myself on fire I set others on fire. Never death. Fire and life. Le jeux.
My first thought of Anaïs Nin's Fire
My second thoughts of Anaïs Nin's Fire
Original comment posted on Aug 9th : it's 2 a.m. and I need a cold shower!
February 7, 2017
To try to describe Anais Nin would be much like an attempt at catching a nebulae three galaxies over, and placing it in a jar. She is essence personified, and she is so absolutely bat-shit crazy that you can't help but wonder if all of us women shouldn't be like that, in order to feel the things she has felt. She had way more than just sex in her life: she had Brancusi and Dali as friends, was the love of Henry Miller's life, was the mistress of Otto Rank, had an incestuous relationship with her father, made love to women, and across all of that the only thing you can map is how absolutely and totally changed the people she touched were left.
Yes, she was absolutely insane to live the way she did, she was promiscuous and gave way too much of herself to the world, was an honest liar, was weak where she should have been strong and harsh where she should have been lenient. But she, as opposed to so many other women, was shining from the inside with such brightness, such intelligence, such natural sexuality, that men and women alike couldn't forget it.
I identify with Anais a lot, and I have said this across many reviews of her journals or writings; her relationship with Henry Miller is my favorite love in the literary power-couple dominion. This must not come across as if I love the fact that they cheated on each other with almost anyone and had massive fights that ended up with them hurting each other, or that she aborted his child. No. It has everything to do with how raw they both were, how they artistically clashed with each other and yet respected the other's work so much, how they were both amazing writers and how they helped each other create. I think that is a very beautiful thing.
Yes, she was absolutely insane to live the way she did, she was promiscuous and gave way too much of herself to the world, was an honest liar, was weak where she should have been strong and harsh where she should have been lenient. But she, as opposed to so many other women, was shining from the inside with such brightness, such intelligence, such natural sexuality, that men and women alike couldn't forget it.
I identify with Anais a lot, and I have said this across many reviews of her journals or writings; her relationship with Henry Miller is my favorite love in the literary power-couple dominion. This must not come across as if I love the fact that they cheated on each other with almost anyone and had massive fights that ended up with them hurting each other, or that she aborted his child. No. It has everything to do with how raw they both were, how they artistically clashed with each other and yet respected the other's work so much, how they were both amazing writers and how they helped each other create. I think that is a very beautiful thing.
February 27, 2011
I have a love-hate relationship with Anaïs Nin, I find her an exquisite writer but her narcissism at times makes her unbearable to read. Her books are addictive though - I'm fascinated with the life she lead and the circle of friends she kept. A part of me is envious of the life she had (except for the incest part), yet at the same time she is so self-absorbed it's infuriating, however this is a diary and diaries are self-absorbed: that is the point. She has an excellent way of conveying emotions and writes with explicit sensuality. There are not many writers out there who write with such "sincerity" (I put this in inverted commas because while I feel she has the ability to write with raw honesty, and genuinely does at times, I'm aware she heavily edited these diaries), and her style has heavily influenced my own writing too. She's a writer who is unique and fascinating, but I can only take her in small doses - perhaps once a year.
Out of her diaries would this be my favourite one? I think "Henry and June" is the best, because I find her more honest to herself since that was a story of self- discovery, whereas "Fire" is more an exploration of decadence and there is a sense of superiority in this diary compared to her older ones. She passes between relationships and seems to take nothing away from them. However, in saying that it's an essential addition to the Nin diary collection, and for those who are making their way through the diaries it's an important part. Maybe I can judge the woman and form an inconsistent opinion of her, from being admirable to irritating, yet as a writer she's brilliant, and there is no course for discussion there.
Out of her diaries would this be my favourite one? I think "Henry and June" is the best, because I find her more honest to herself since that was a story of self- discovery, whereas "Fire" is more an exploration of decadence and there is a sense of superiority in this diary compared to her older ones. She passes between relationships and seems to take nothing away from them. However, in saying that it's an essential addition to the Nin diary collection, and for those who are making their way through the diaries it's an important part. Maybe I can judge the woman and form an inconsistent opinion of her, from being admirable to irritating, yet as a writer she's brilliant, and there is no course for discussion there.
March 16, 2014
If you don't want to be a whore after reading this book then I don't know what to think of you. Anaïs Nin's writing is freeing just as it is intelligent and full of life. I like diaries because they tend to be a whole lot more personal than autobiographies; there's a kindness felt after reading out someone else's private thoughts. She makes you dig deep into yourself and come up with the most rude questions regarding your life. Am I loving wrong? Am I living wrong? Are my sentiments unmatched to the ways I tend to translate them to others? Ugh. Just read it.
December 15, 2022
“Slipping like an eel through barriers.
But I give life. I can rarely wield death. Yet I have the power to destroy.
Life. Fire. Being myself on fire, I set others on fire. Never death. Fire and life. Le jeu.�
these last lines perfectly sum up this journal. anais is a symbol for fiery passion and sensitivity. her heterosexual romantic and sensual subordination for henry is so interesting. after the time jump from first meeting him in Henry and June, i’m really starting to see how it’s sort of wearing her down, how she’s becoming open to other relationships. after all, her free spirited love is almost an altruistic ritual. I really wondered how a woman like her could be with a man like henry (seeing from his writing) but now i get it. she kinda domesticated him. W imo
But I give life. I can rarely wield death. Yet I have the power to destroy.
Life. Fire. Being myself on fire, I set others on fire. Never death. Fire and life. Le jeu.�
these last lines perfectly sum up this journal. anais is a symbol for fiery passion and sensitivity. her heterosexual romantic and sensual subordination for henry is so interesting. after the time jump from first meeting him in Henry and June, i’m really starting to see how it’s sort of wearing her down, how she’s becoming open to other relationships. after all, her free spirited love is almost an altruistic ritual. I really wondered how a woman like her could be with a man like henry (seeing from his writing) but now i get it. she kinda domesticated him. W imo
December 25, 2024
Il diario più bello che abbia mai letto, carico di erotismo, di consapevolezza emotiva, in un contesto lontano nel tempo, ma visceralmente vicino ad ognuno di noi. Unica la capacità di esprimere tanto bene la relazionalità, la complessità emotiva. Unico.
May 4, 2009
Wow, more intense than I had imagined. I am nearing the end, and her encounters with Gonzalo More, wow! So much hunger and soul dancing. I can say what I find amusing about Anais and her life is as free as she seems to most people, she was imprisoned by Henry Miller. Just goes to show how toxic relationships will always be a must in the lives of most artists. Back to the is suffering and pain necessary to create great lasting art debate. Seems to be the case for the majority. Must keep in mind most of this 'great suffering' said artists encounter is self-created though.
Finished the book, Nin had a gift for expressing many human emotions, you suffer alongside her or remember your own intense highs and lows of love, especially where love and wandering hearts lie.
I always feel inspired in my writing, she is a bit of a muse, her sentences read like poetry and are not the text you just lightly skip over. Not everyone understands her 'emotional algebra' but for those that do, it is a devine pleasure. She certainly bared her soul on the pages of her diaries in ways I admit, I would be unable to. My journals are locked away, I hide behind fiction :) as most writers prefer but I delight in the raw nakedness of her confessions!
Finished the book, Nin had a gift for expressing many human emotions, you suffer alongside her or remember your own intense highs and lows of love, especially where love and wandering hearts lie.
I always feel inspired in my writing, she is a bit of a muse, her sentences read like poetry and are not the text you just lightly skip over. Not everyone understands her 'emotional algebra' but for those that do, it is a devine pleasure. She certainly bared her soul on the pages of her diaries in ways I admit, I would be unable to. My journals are locked away, I hide behind fiction :) as most writers prefer but I delight in the raw nakedness of her confessions!
September 6, 2010
Can't say that I'm a fan of Anais Nin. It's interesting to see how sexually liberated she was in a time period that's always portrayed as oppressed, but I found her to be self-centered. One minute she was happy, one minute she was sad. One minute she was an angel, another minute she was a devil. She saw herself as a muse to her lovers, and said that she could never harm people, but I saw a lot of harm and deception come through in her writing, as she was juggling numerous men around (sometimes sleeping with 3 guys in one days?!) and lying to all of them. I gave her 2 stars because she could turn a pretty phrase occasionally.
April 13, 2024
If Anais Nin were alive today she would have been a psychiatrist and not a mere unlicensed psychotherapist and would have been prescribed, minimally, 20 or 16 mg Abilify or Haloperidol for her schizo-affective disorder as well as 40 or 20 mg of Welbutrin due to her major depressive disorder which, in my opinion, caused her to act out in a psychotic-depressive behavior pattern with erotomaniacal features. (I am not a doctor, but I am familiar with women who have been put on similar medications; however, you ought not to consider this note to be serious medical advice!)
July 25, 2024
Ok, interesting. It was good, but I abandoned it halfway through. I found the journal entry style, which, of course, had to be given the nature of the work, none the less tiresome.
February 3, 2025
Incredible #collect lovers 🌷
November 18, 2023
“� dinamite che non è esplosa, ma la miccia è accesa, la fiammella corre su e giù per la miccia con una specie di gioia dionisiaca, una danza in cui le fiammelle corrono intorno al cuore della dinamite e non lo toccano, e la fiammella mi fa trattenere il respiro, con I nervi tesi come corde, il collo allungato, gli occhi spalancati, le orecchie tese, tutti I nervetti in attesa dell’orgasmo che mi irrorerà di sangue e mi farà dormire.�
Non ci sono freni nella vita che Anaïs Nin vuole vivere, nella vita che costruisce intorno a sè, per sè, per coloro che ama e che vuole salvare. Salvare da cosa? Dal grigiore di un’esistenza anonima, senza passione, una vita cerebrale che non contempla il sogno, l’irrealtà, un paradiso artificiale in cui ogni desiderio è appagato, ogni sogno avverato, ogni amore goduto.
Si dona alla vita e agli altri con una generosità edonistica, decisa a dare bellezza e a riceverne fino a sentirsi piena, gravida, felice. Ogni momento viene vissuto con lo stesso coraggio di un funambolo che cammina su una corda sottile senza rete di protezione. Ha mai paura di cadere Anaïs Nin? Ha mai guardato giù e pensato che l’altezza fosse troppa, che non fosse possibile continuare a rimanere in equilibrio?
Forse. Aprirsi al mondo, aprirsi all’amore, al desiderio, al godimento, porta con sè il rischio più grande per una donna: dimenticarsi di sè, smarrirsi negli altri, nelle loro necessità, divenire ciò di cui hanno bisogno e quasi svanire, trasformarsi in un’immagine sbiadita, dimenticare il fuoco che ribolle sotto la pelle, che sfrigola e preme per divampare.
Continua a leggere qui:
Non ci sono freni nella vita che Anaïs Nin vuole vivere, nella vita che costruisce intorno a sè, per sè, per coloro che ama e che vuole salvare. Salvare da cosa? Dal grigiore di un’esistenza anonima, senza passione, una vita cerebrale che non contempla il sogno, l’irrealtà, un paradiso artificiale in cui ogni desiderio è appagato, ogni sogno avverato, ogni amore goduto.
Si dona alla vita e agli altri con una generosità edonistica, decisa a dare bellezza e a riceverne fino a sentirsi piena, gravida, felice. Ogni momento viene vissuto con lo stesso coraggio di un funambolo che cammina su una corda sottile senza rete di protezione. Ha mai paura di cadere Anaïs Nin? Ha mai guardato giù e pensato che l’altezza fosse troppa, che non fosse possibile continuare a rimanere in equilibrio?
Forse. Aprirsi al mondo, aprirsi all’amore, al desiderio, al godimento, porta con sè il rischio più grande per una donna: dimenticarsi di sè, smarrirsi negli altri, nelle loro necessità, divenire ciò di cui hanno bisogno e quasi svanire, trasformarsi in un’immagine sbiadita, dimenticare il fuoco che ribolle sotto la pelle, che sfrigola e preme per divampare.
Continua a leggere qui:
October 14, 2024
az vyrostu, chci byt jako anais
October 14, 2018
Fuego es un viaje a la intimidad incuestionable, al fondo del ser y de la vida en todos sus detalles. Impresiona la forma como Anaïs Nin, aborda de una forma paradójicamente fría y apasionada, los límites más profundos del amor, el sexo, el arte o la revolución. Es imposible no reflexionar sobre uno mismo, en esa especie de camino que traza. También es imposible no admirar la forma en que cada detalla de la escena de la vida se dibuja.
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January 25, 2025Life is a dance to me, a profound, sacred, joyous, mysterious, symbolic, soulful dance�. Through the marketplaces, the whorehouses, the abattoirs, the butcher shops, the laboratories, hospitals, Montparnasse, I walk with my dream unfurled and lose myself in my own labyrinths, and the dream unfurled carries me...
Of course, five stars from me, but silly to rate a diary...
Anaïs is a visionary, a true original. Her diaries are more interesting than her fiction. In her own words: “I make all my efforts in life; all my dynamism is in life. In writing I am passive, flowing, drugged…�
The diaries are alive, pulsing with history and with the energy of a real woman and her real life, the men and women whose lives she touched. Her art was living.
“Analysis is a hothouse, a hastening of wisdom and growth; nevertheless, the life experience must be actually lived out and through, completely, in spite of it; everything that is lived out in the imagination is poison. Wisdom is not... a substitute for life…�
Fire brings to life a mid-1930s Louveciennes, Montparnasse/Paris, Philadelphia, New York. The creatives' scene, full of interesting characters, and Anaïs is deeply involved and perceptive in her inter-personal relations (“On top of a crumbling world. The more it crumbles the more I feel like asserting the possibility of personal love, personal relationships...").
I loved, for instance, the Rebecca West appearances with fabulous character/lines, as recounted by Anaïs: “‘You know, those rats they brought up without magnesium or something, and they lost their maternal love. Well, Americans—there is some element lacking. What is it? One doesn't say soul. One finds other names for it. It's everything deep; everything deep is lacking.’�
This is, I think, essential reading in the practice of analysis and in psychoanalytic history. Anaïs has a depth of lived understanding of the psyche unlike any of the (male) psychoanalytic “greats� I’ve read; of course she is also in dialogue with some of those “greats� in real time...
There is really so much to admire: her creative process, in her own words, in writing fiction, how she cultivates her home(s), dresses, travels, seeking beauty everywhere, how she loves, how she touches the lives of friends and lovers.
“Tendue vers l’impossible toujours, moi. I’m always reaching for the impossible. When I write I eat my neurosis. Out of my neurosis I write.�
"...fear of the world produces crystals in writing. Faultless, crystallized phrases, perfection and hard polish of inhuman things... But such crystals are repulsive to people. No human imperfections..."
"What helps me to dream: luxury, beauty. Nobody understands. They think I love luxury for itself..."
"I feel joy in yielding-- like a religious expiation of the self. This enormous self in me, so egotistical, so hungry, so devouring. I must annihilate it, and so I bow, I bow."
A marvelous life, rich in insight: on art and abstraction, on analysis, womanhood, female friendship, the polar needs for novelty and for stability, on beauty, symbolism, with incredible attention, willingness, receptivity. Life, lived to its very fullest.
January 3, 2012
"I want to live until I crack, crack with too-muchness, until all my harem turns jealously against me, rebels, divorces me, until they all cry out with pain and joy, anger and murder, until they murder me for my betrayals."
On to 1934-37 for Nin in her continuing romantic/sexual exploits as related in her diary. She travels from Paris to America for the first part of this novel, and has a relationship (*cough*cough*) with her analyst, Dr. Otto Rank, and of course continues her romance with Henry Miller, though not at the intensity of the old days. The first half of "Fire" is a bit weak, but it picks up when Nin returns to Paris and has an affair with the Peruvian Gonzalo More, while still being intimate with Miller and her husband, Hugo ("Hugh"). How she managed this may be the greatest logistical juggling act in human history. As she said in the previous volume, "Incest": "I have an emotional tapeworm. Never enough to eat." Fascinating stuff.
Nin again: "More than love, men need the annihilation of their solitude � that IS the function of love. It is through the crevice of this solitude that the magic fluid seeps in and enslaves. And everywhere I walk I seduce."
As a reader, I was seduced again. The diary is hard to digest in large chunks, but chipping away at her fascinating life is worthwhile.
On to 1934-37 for Nin in her continuing romantic/sexual exploits as related in her diary. She travels from Paris to America for the first part of this novel, and has a relationship (*cough*cough*) with her analyst, Dr. Otto Rank, and of course continues her romance with Henry Miller, though not at the intensity of the old days. The first half of "Fire" is a bit weak, but it picks up when Nin returns to Paris and has an affair with the Peruvian Gonzalo More, while still being intimate with Miller and her husband, Hugo ("Hugh"). How she managed this may be the greatest logistical juggling act in human history. As she said in the previous volume, "Incest": "I have an emotional tapeworm. Never enough to eat." Fascinating stuff.
Nin again: "More than love, men need the annihilation of their solitude � that IS the function of love. It is through the crevice of this solitude that the magic fluid seeps in and enslaves. And everywhere I walk I seduce."
As a reader, I was seduced again. The diary is hard to digest in large chunks, but chipping away at her fascinating life is worthwhile.
November 20, 2010
I didn't find this one to have as insightful writing as some of her other diaries. She seems very lost and confused during this time of her life. Towards the end, during the beginning of her relationship with Gonazalo, her writing does catch fire. But the majority of this was negative, going in circles, lacking the clarity of analysis of her emotions that the other unexpurgated diaries had.
The most interesting aspect of this was her decision making process of whether to give up trying to write fiction and focus on the journal instead. In a way, she combined both by creating the expurgated journals, which refined her writing and, mostly by omission, fictionalized her life. I have a DVD that someone gave me of footage of her at home, being interviewed. The most striking image from it for me is a scene where she is sitting at her desk, looking down at her handwritten journal and then editing it in her mind, rewriting it on her typewriter. I think after now having read all 4 of the available unexpurgated diaries, I am excited to go back to reading her more refined writing, and reading about earlier and later periods of her life.
The most interesting aspect of this was her decision making process of whether to give up trying to write fiction and focus on the journal instead. In a way, she combined both by creating the expurgated journals, which refined her writing and, mostly by omission, fictionalized her life. I have a DVD that someone gave me of footage of her at home, being interviewed. The most striking image from it for me is a scene where she is sitting at her desk, looking down at her handwritten journal and then editing it in her mind, rewriting it on her typewriter. I think after now having read all 4 of the available unexpurgated diaries, I am excited to go back to reading her more refined writing, and reading about earlier and later periods of her life.
December 7, 2010
This was the first time i've read one of her diaries and noticed the lies and treachery that she inflicts on the ones she loves and that love her. She is so sure of her power to create and destruct, she tells herself she lies to each lover to protect them--she is the mother, the tormentor, the lover and the child. The lifting of the romantic veil i'd put nin under lifted, and after many unsure moments, I realized that the most important thing about her writing is that it still inspires me, it is still beautiful (even if often overblown, dramatic, and self-pitying...but it's a diary).
She is able to create a whole life out of three lives (Hugh, Henry and Rank/Gonzalo). Part of me wants to lecture and moralize, but another part of me realizes that she defies the ordinary and that is what is so wonderful about reading her diary. She is living in the fullest way she can find, and that is what is inspiring.
She is able to create a whole life out of three lives (Hugh, Henry and Rank/Gonzalo). Part of me wants to lecture and moralize, but another part of me realizes that she defies the ordinary and that is what is so wonderful about reading her diary. She is living in the fullest way she can find, and that is what is inspiring.
December 12, 2012
Well, I've gone and done it, I read the last of Anais Nin's Unexpurgated Diaries first...
A few thoughts come to the fore with regard to this book. First of all, remarkable writing. I'm not generally a fan of diary lit, but Nin's voice is sure and she doesn't bog down. Strangely, her writing seems simultaneously unselfconscious and narcissistic - a puzzle I'm sure to be thinking on for a while to come... But what a wonderful view into an fascinating life - her thoughts, emotions, actions, deceits, not to mention colorful characters with whom she surrounded herself.
Anais Nin's Unexpurgated Diary reads like a novel. All the more wonderful because it's not.
A few thoughts come to the fore with regard to this book. First of all, remarkable writing. I'm not generally a fan of diary lit, but Nin's voice is sure and she doesn't bog down. Strangely, her writing seems simultaneously unselfconscious and narcissistic - a puzzle I'm sure to be thinking on for a while to come... But what a wonderful view into an fascinating life - her thoughts, emotions, actions, deceits, not to mention colorful characters with whom she surrounded herself.
Anais Nin's Unexpurgated Diary reads like a novel. All the more wonderful because it's not.
January 13, 2020
Classic Nin - she holds nothing back in documenting her life and loves during this period.
Whenever I read Nin's diaries, I wonder what it would be like to live a life like hers. She has so many men on the go, but you get the sense that she has a deep love for each of them, despite her lies and deceit. I don't think I could cope with the guilt that such a lifestyle would bring. It would crush me. But there is a part of me that thinks it is possible to feel love and lust for more than one person at a time. Still, I'll stick to my monogamous ways and live out another life vicariously through Nin!
Whenever I read Nin's diaries, I wonder what it would be like to live a life like hers. She has so many men on the go, but you get the sense that she has a deep love for each of them, despite her lies and deceit. I don't think I could cope with the guilt that such a lifestyle would bring. It would crush me. But there is a part of me that thinks it is possible to feel love and lust for more than one person at a time. Still, I'll stick to my monogamous ways and live out another life vicariously through Nin!
June 12, 2017
Anais Nin goes to New York. Chaos ensues. You read her juggling of two and sometimes three lovers at a time like you watch a trapeze artist - is she going to fall? Spoiler alert: not really. Her analyst who she cheats on (yes she sleeps with her analysts, this is Anais Nin, after all) reads her the riot act, but his anger doesn't last. She's a master manipulator of men who love to be manipulated. Her chaotic life makes for fun and exciting reading. And her malleable morality makes every reader smug with satisfaction with the knowledge that no matter how bad they might seem, Anais is worse.
November 24, 2019
March 3, 1937
"But I give life. I can rarely wield death. Yet I have the power to destroy. Life. Fire. Being myself on fire, I set other on fire. Never death. Fire and life. Le jeu.
Over 90 years later, Nin still ignites and in her words, still lives.
"But I give life. I can rarely wield death. Yet I have the power to destroy. Life. Fire. Being myself on fire, I set other on fire. Never death. Fire and life. Le jeu.
Over 90 years later, Nin still ignites and in her words, still lives.
August 17, 2022
Whatever you think of Anais Nin, I don't think anybody journals like her. Fascinating detail of her life and thoughts...at least as she wanted people to read. Had me asking if I could journal with such detail and abandon.
June 9, 2007
If you want people to read your journal, make sure it's chock full of dangerous sexual scandals.
November 2, 2007
Pervy and fascinating and titillating. It's like porno for artsy females.
Read
January 8, 2015Intense and captivating
July 8, 2022
I adore her !!
December 28, 2022
"He says I am so honest in my feelings. The lies are only in the head. The feelings are in the diary. I didn't even go into the lies much in the diary. It was the feeling that was important to me. There I never lie. I lie only for others."
- Anais, on Huck
In a whirlwind of rich sensory feelings, she spilled in her diaries about Huck, Hughs, and Henry; on January 7th, 1935:
- Anais, on Huck
In a whirlwind of rich sensory feelings, she spilled in her diaries about Huck, Hughs, and Henry; on January 7th, 1935:
"I danced for Huck, spontaneously, in my Spanish costumes, and he was moved because he said I was his creation, dancing, and also that he was dancing in me.
Telephone calls. Flowers. Red roses. Courtship. Flattery. Adulation. Carnations. Henry is suffering, but he has become real. Our love has become real to him.
I buy cigarettes, magazines, little things, clothes, for his room, 703 [at the Barbizon Plaza]. I prepare the room for him. I prepare to envelop him. In his last letter he begs me, "Be tender to me, be loving. I need you so much. I have given myself to you." This new love for me, for the Me who ran away, who forgot him, who was cruel: I want it. I have become June. He uses the same phrases, but they sound more sincere. Suffering. Real suffering. Real tears.
Hugh, too, is running after the feu follet, the will-o'-the-wisp. Obsessed, courting, wooing.
The core of my life is a tragic and deep situation which I cannot face. I cannot abandon Hugh. I cannot hurt Henry. I cannot hurt Huck. I belong to all of them.
The core: Henry, my Henry. Mad, like Knut Hamsun, false, and full of literature, and lacking in understanding. Henry.
Huck, Huck, so true in his feelings, so deep in his feelings, so deep in his thoughts, laughing and weeping.
No tragedy. We don't want tragedy. If only I can continue with the lies, the illusions, oh, the lies to Hugh, and yet not all lies.
When I received his red roses New Year's night, I hated them, and yet I was so moved.
Moved.
I kept one under my pillow.
Unalterable ties.
Indissoluble ties. I can only add, expand. I cannot break, dissolve, push away."
February 3, 2025
for me this was a very good example of why sometimes it's better to go and read something which is non-fiction or an autobiography from a writer before going to read anything else, to see more clearly how the author thinks. this was a scary portrait of the author, she is obsessed with Henry Miller, who is not a good character at all, and in a toxic relationship with him, his other love interests and many other men, all at the same time, everyone lying continuously, while she is excusing herself constantly for all the bad things she accepts and for her not so kind thoughts and things she says about June, Henry Miller's wife, the one he is constantly cheating on, including with the author...as well as being pretty much a sex addict, based on her own accounts. her thoughts are not the best, she appears to be very self-absorbed.
...and it's good for me to know all of this before i go and read anything else, to have more context and be able to judge her works of literature better. the only good part about this was the fact that it is written to be honest journaling, and it does actually provide significant insight into the life of the author. for me, this was a yikes. at some point you have to ask yourself if these people don't actually deserve (all of) each other like that...and it does work like that, if they wanted to, they could have stopped the affairs.
“i have to live my life by mysterious laws, but i want to give each man the illusion he needs, of loyalty, exclusivity (�) i say and do the things which resemble absolute love�...a bit of a sociopath, not sure who else would want to purposefully deceive others into believing they are loved by her.
...and it's good for me to know all of this before i go and read anything else, to have more context and be able to judge her works of literature better. the only good part about this was the fact that it is written to be honest journaling, and it does actually provide significant insight into the life of the author. for me, this was a yikes. at some point you have to ask yourself if these people don't actually deserve (all of) each other like that...and it does work like that, if they wanted to, they could have stopped the affairs.
“i have to live my life by mysterious laws, but i want to give each man the illusion he needs, of loyalty, exclusivity (�) i say and do the things which resemble absolute love�...a bit of a sociopath, not sure who else would want to purposefully deceive others into believing they are loved by her.
March 1, 2024
Si puedo condensar en una palabra la escritura de Nin sería "fascinante". Equilibra a la perfección la espontaneidad del ritmo de la narración con el cálculo que requiere la precisión de su estilo, porque se lee como si fuera algo sencillo, casi sin mayor esfuerzo, pero es completamente lo contrario. Sus imágenes, las figuras que emergen de sus emociones como artificios, se desenvuelven en la narración como el abrir de una flor, casi imperceptiblemente, sin forcejeos ni pestañeos, porque su estructura es muy cerebral. Su escritura es una composición de sonidos, figuras retoricas, que se amparan bajo la enorme influencia del psicoanálisis. Por otro lado, el diario se aleja del tono testimonial que caracteriza a éste género, es decir que abarca el desarrollo de la cotidianidad del dueño, su mundo interno y externo (la presencia de la voz interna, el mundo reflexivo, y la conjunción de datos históricos, la realidad presente del sujeto). En el diario de Anais solo importa el interno, pues el contexto es apenas una pálida imagen en el hondo solipsismo que se sumerge la escritora, tanto que puede llegar a apreciarse con claridad la neurosis que la atormenta. Sin embargo, no es una narración reiterativa, aunque ¿realmente importaría que lo fuera si se trata después de todo de diarios personales y no una novela?, no, por el contrario, es un diario muy legible, para nada cansino, lo que probablemente se deba a que Anais Nin siempre tuvo la intención de que fueran publicados en vida.
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