Nijinsky

by Vaslav Nijinsky, Romola Nijinsky

It was there that on the stage of a theatre for me undistinguishable-through a mass of unimportant plasterwork-from an esplanade of the forest, I saw for the first and last time, Nijinsky. We had already reached the third year of the war; he himself had just escaped from a concentration camp, and for me, the acute accents of the little orchestra which under Ansermet's baton was addressing the backcloth through the curtain wave mingled simultaneously on that strange Antarctic shore, with the noise of the! ocean flinging its prodigious fireworks against the breakwater of Beira Mar, and that of the ever present cannonade over there. l was like someone who is about to enter a ballroom from the outside, throws his cigar one way, and casts a final glance the other way towards the horizon where a dreadful moon is spreading its blaze behind a curtain of poisoned vapours. The storm had thrown up between Capocabana and the Sugarloaf the gaily-painted vessel of the Russian Ballets, and I was invited to take my ticket like those one-time emigrants going to applaud some exile from the Royal Opera on a chance stage of Coblenz or Spa. ...Nijinsky appeared. Romola Nijinsky

Genres: Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir, Russia, Art, Biography Memoir, Diary

Paperback

First published January 1, 1934

About the author

Vaslav Nijinsky (Also: Wacław Niżyński, Вацлав Нижинский) (December 28, 1889 - April 8, 1950) was a Russian ballet dancer and choreographer of Polish descent. Nijinsky was one of the most gifted male dancers in history, and he grew to be celebrated for his virtuosity and for the depth and intensity of his characterizations. He could perform en pointe, a rare skill among male dancers at the time and his ability to perform seemingly gravity-defying leaps was also legendary. The choreographer Bronislava Nijinska was his sister.

Reviews

[Katriina ❆ · Rating 5 out of 5]

[ I am full of life, and therefore I suffer ]

is a quote out of this book, but so is

[ I am no turkey with feathers of steel. I am a turkey with feathers of God]

or, my all-time-favourite, as I spent all of my life convinced that Dostoevsky was a stick and got really enlightened:

[Dostoevsky is no stick.]

No, really. I find it easy to make fun of some of these lines in Nijinskys diary, but I'm actually overwhelmed with the sheer genius of this man. Already quite early Nijinsky himself admitted that „people will say Nijinsky pretends to be mad.“. However, it is hard to pretend you're mad, and it's even harder to pretend to be mad and have people believe you. Plus, it's now a wide-known fact that Nijinsky was „mad“, a schizophrenic, and this book is quite an evidence.

They say there's a very thin line between being a genius and being a madman, and Nijinsky has crossed it. Nijinsky has been undeniably a master of ballet; very few have been able to dance in the way Nijinsky does. Most unfortunately, I was not alive when he was, so I never got the chance to actually see him. Now, admittedly, I'm not exactly the kind of woman to go and see a ballet show every other week, but I do appreciate it and have actually been dancing ballet in the past.
I had heard of Nijinsky long before I knew he suffered from schizophrenia because as a young girl taking ballet classes, my teacher would be so happy about being able to teach some boys and would call them “my little Nijinskys”.

But there seems to be a thing with ballet and madness. There's this movie, Black Swan – which I've admittedly never seen – and there's Nijinskys diary. There's the fact that I, a former ballet dancer, suffer from schizoaffective disorder too. Schizoaffective disorder is like a schizophrenia-&-bipolar-disorder crossover, so within the 7 years since my first outbreak I have suffered a lot of psychoses, delusions, grandiosity thoughts, hallucinations and the like. I'm skilled at being mentally disordered, one could nastily say, and I recognised myself a surprising lot in this book. Some of the lines sound as if you'd taken them right out of my very own psychosis-diary, which I had and have to keep from time to time. It's surprising how many parallel lines there are. I'm just throwing that in because that's one of the reasons I liked this book so much.

I read the unabridged diary, and I had been searching for an unabridged copy costing less than 88€ for a long, long while. Just after I found and purchased it a wonderful, amazing person had send me a PDF version and when I opened it it, turned out that about 40% of the book were missing.
I hopped to Wikipedia as I wondered why, and found out that his wife had been – after his death – erasing parts where Nijinsky talked about his homosexual relationships, or wrote of his wife negatively, or wrote about his experiences with „upper-class“ prostitutes etc. etc. etc. And it's such a pity that his wife erased all of this because it depicts Nijinskys inner controversy and ambivalence so much. If you're heading straight for psychosis, thinking clear and structured isn't always a thing you necessarily do. Neither did Nijinsky.

While he surprisingly managed to – mostly – focus his thoughts on one topic he constantly, he would constantly, constantly, constantly contradict himself in everything he said. One time, he'd hate his wife, the other time he'd love her more than everything. One time he was God, one time he was God in man and one time he wasn't God, but only Nijinsky.

If you're looking for a gripping book, this is not for you and yet, this book is nowhere near boring. If you're looking for a funny read, this is not for you, and yet, there is a few funny phrases. However, they're not funny on intent, they're rather grotesquely, absurdly funny and plain sad when you think about it for a minute or two. This book has no genre; there's no action, no suspense, no character-development, no love stories, no nothing. This book is merely a depiction of a poor mind descending into madness, with all of the sadness and absurdities accompanying it. And yet, I have to rate it 5 stars.

[Jesse · Rating 3 out of 5]

Reads like a disorienting fusion of high Modernist stream-of-consciousness, Kafka's psychological claustrophobia and the postmodern penchant for shifting personas and unreliable narrators. It could be considered a quite impressive (if impenetrable) literary achievement if stripped of its context-- that is, a record of its author's descent into the schizophrenia from which he would never reemerge. Basically, it's several hundred pages of this type of thing:

"I am the artist who loves shapes and all kinds of beauty. Beauty is not a relative thing. Beauty is God. God is beauty with feeling. Beauty is in feeling. I love beauty because I feel it and therefore understand it. Thinking people write nonsense about beauty. Beauty cannot be discussed. Beauty cannot be criticized. I am no criticism. Criticism is an attempt to be clever. I flaunt my beauty. I feel love for beauty. I am not looking for straight noses. I like straight noses. I like my wife's nose because it has feeling."

I fully expected to get a little ways into the book and have to skim the rest, but I have to say, once I adjusted to the general ebb and flow of Nijinsky's mental associations it became a fascinating read, especially when he'll wander, almost accidentally, into musings of his dancing career and the people associated with it (Diaghilev, Nijinska, his various patrons, etc). To my surprise, I ended up reading the whole thing. Those looking for Nijinsky to provide any kind of extended commentary on his dancing or career will be disappointed, however, because he barely mentions it directly (I'd wager just several pages worth in the entire volume), and the "unexpurgated" part doesn't mean juicy sex details, but rather long digressions on things like bowel movements.

In it's own way quite beautiful, but also ultimately, and inevitably, sad.

"I loved the Ballets Russes. I gave my whole heart to it. I worked like an ox. I lived like a martyr."

[عماد العتيلي · Rating 5 out of 5]

هذا الكِتاب عزيزٌ جدّا عليّ، وله مكانة في قلبِي لا يُنازعه عليها أحد.
سعيدٌ بترجمته. وعلى الرّغم من تأخّر صدوره، فإنّهُ أوّل كتابٍ ترجمته. هوَ الابن البِكر!

[Julio The Fox · Rating 5 out of 5]

The ravings of a genius, the greatest dancer in history, written just a few weeks before he was committed to an asylum. This is the unexpurgated version filled with repetitions like "shit, shit, God, shit..." and lucid homosexual dreams put on paper.

[Sharon Barrow Wilfong · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nijinksy is a fascinating character. In the first twenty years of the 20th century he rose to become the world's greatest dancer. Then at the age of 29, he came crashing down into a world of insanity.
Diagnosed with schizophrenia, Nijinsky spent the last thirty years of his life in and out of insane asylums.

In 1919 Nijinsky kept a diary. The original version is a heavily bowdlerized publication that his wife, Romala edited. This edition by Joan Acocella is unexpurgated and quite wild.

It is not easy to read because Nijinsky rambles all over the place. His mind is obviously scrambled. But there are glimpses of his heart and his suffering and also of his history, giving hints as to what triggers in his life may have sent him over into his own mental chaos.

Ms. Acocella gives an excellent introduction that helps clarify much of the book and also gives invaluable background which will enhance the understanding and appreciation of the reader.

[Jesica Sabrina Canto · Rating 4 out of 5]

Para mi, que me interesa la psicología, este libro es un tesoro. La forma en la que permite adentrarse en la mente de alguien con trastorno mental es impresionante. Hay pocos registros en primera persona, hasta donde se, de pacientes afectados y permiten esa intrusión que de la que otro modo solo es un registro mediado por alguien mas.
Por momentos parece que los pensamientos se desarrollan al nivel de un niño, así como también se refleja en no tener control de los actos propios y la desesperación por la preocupación de los otros así como el temor a los médicos.
No es un diario en términos corrientes, es el de una persona afectada mentalmente, por tanto impredecible.

[Tudor Crețu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Am fost invitat de o buna prietena la un spectacol de teatru despre viata lui Nijinski bazat pe aceste caiete, jurnalul lui. Ele surprind fix perioada de dinainte de a fi institutionalizat pentru 30 de ani, pana la moarte, in diferite centre de ingrijire.

Nijinski a fost un mare dansator in jurul anilor 1910-1915 cu baletul rus si impresarul Diaghilev. Acestia au o relatie de care Vaslav vrea sa se rupa si astfel se casatoreste cu Romola, o fana de-ale lui. Nijinski are parte de mari traume pentru el in timpul razboiului, cand el incearca sa plece din Ungaria, acolo unde era retinut (rus fiind) si cred ca asta impreuna cu alte motive ii declanseaza lui un episod psihotic foarte puternic.

Neinteresandu-ma dinainte despre piesa, am intuit nativ ca Nijinski a suferit de schizofrenie. S-a dovedit ca am avut dreptate. Si am stiut asta pentru ca tata a suferit cateva episoade de acest fel de-a lungul vietii lui. In 2002 dupa un total esec in incercarea de a face bani in Italia, in 2017 dupa un esec partial in incercarea de a face bani in Germania si in 2021 prin faptul ca se autoconsidera un esec, neputand contribui la finantele familiei.

Din cate am aflat si vazut pe pielea mea pana acum, schizofrenia te face sau iti da impresia (in masura in care esti si inculcat de societate si crestinism) ca esti Dumnezeu sau Hristos, ca esti totul, ca simti totul, ca toti inteleg ce gandesti telepatic, ca nu poti sa ascunzi nimic, ca esti cel mai mare pacatos din lume, ca simti nevoia sa te izolezi complet de societate pentru a usura familia de problemele pe care le creezi. Este un delir continuu si poti functiona semi-normal doar cu o combinatie corecta de medicamente. In cazul tatalui meu, este vorba despre amisulprida, dar difera de la un om la altul. Cand este sub efectul pastilelor (acum non-stop, caci a avut deja trei episoade si e mai groasa treaba), tata este mult mai docil, ii vine sa doarma mai mult si poate sa manance mai mult. In acelasi timp, dozele de compasiune si empatie sunt foarte sterse, el nu se poate bucura sau intrista la fel de mult ca toti ceilalti atunci cand situatia este de o asa natura.

Pentru mine a fost una dintre cele mai minunate lecturi pentru ca am putut intelege astfel modalitatea de a gandi a unei asemenea persoane. Urmatorul pas va fi sa ii arat si tatei ca nu este singurul care a suferit, ca nu este fiul omului si ca fiecare intrebare pe care si-o pune poate avea si un raspuns rational, nemaiducandu-ne in misticism religios. Cel de-al doilea pas cred ca va fi sa avem o comunicare mai buna si sa il fac sa aiba incredere in mine sa impartaseasca si cu mine caietele pe care le-a scris el insusi fiind internat la neuropsihiatrie.

[lilly amber · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 stars because it’s vitally important this book exists. It is an imperfect incantation, thin as muslin; but it’s vulnerabilities and simplicity of speech are innocent, much like prince myshkin is in The Idiot (a book Nijinsky himself references several times)

it’s easy to see Nijinsky’s nomadic style and his tendency to contradict himself from sentence to sentence as evidence of nonsensical madness - and it’s true Nijinsky does show himself to be “mad”, though perhaps in a sense that can only be understood if one reads his work ingenuously. However, as one gets used to his technique (a sort of somnambulistic narration of feeling, a writing that could basically be said to be sub-conscious, “with eyes closed,”) you begin to experience a sensation of inversion, as if his writing not only reflected his own deteriorating state of mind, but of the external conditions that surrounded him, as well....I can’t quite express exactly what I mean though 😅

also, Nijinsky predicted ecological collapse, has the most plausible theory regarding nietzsche’s madness I’ve yet to read, and his drawings included in my secondhand cal press edition somehow have the same beautiful logic as his writing.

[Federica ~ Excusetheink · Rating 5 out of 5]

Che ne è stato di lui?
Ha vissuto altri trentuno anni così... sentendo, di conseguenza capendo. Tutto.

Le prime pagine non sono semplici, ci piomba addosso all'improvviso come un uragano e in un soffio finisce togliendo il disturbo. Non lo è il resto, all'indomani della sua ultima danza davanti un grande pubblico l'uomo si getta nella scrittura riempiendo tre quaderni. Pensieri fitti, liberati e trasformati in lettere per necessità e urgenza di scrivere. Argomento vario, dalla politica, alla filosofia, alla vita famigliare, non un diario nel vero senso della parola o un'autobiografia e per questo tanto sentito. Dal 1919 ad oggi e per l'eternità.
Io non sono Nijinsky. Io amo Nijinsky.

[Jon Nakapalau · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nijinsky helped redefine the role of men in ballet. If contemporary accounts are accurate he could probably have been a long jump champion, he could cover the length of a stage - holding an arabesque in the air that seemed suspended until he chose to allow gravity to exercise its force over him. His diary documents his decent into madness and makes us wonder what he could have accomplished had he not had to battle mental illness.

[Noah W]

like..........how do you even rate this...........my poor boy.

will say that "man to man" nearly made me cry

[Robin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book has no logical reasoning whatsoever. It it deeply contradictory. Highly naive. It is repetitive. Anti-science even. It is signed, in the end, by 'God & Nijinsky'. And yet, it is absolutely beautiful.

The diaries of Vaslav Nijinsky are the diaries of a genius -perhaps the best dancer who ever lived- who increasingly suffers from psychosis, presumably schizophrenia. The book was meant to be published by Nijinsky, but it does not seem as if that stopped him from penning down every single honest thought.
It reads not as parts of a book but as one long stream of consciousness. There are descriptions of his personal life, reflections on art, on philosophy, on faith, on vegetarianism but most of all: on love. Nijinsky is obviously a sensitive and empathetic soul, who constantly cries tears for the world around him. He stresses the point that he has no political preference, his only 'preference' is that people should be kind and loving to each other.

The book is written as a kind of chant of love and God. It is written as if by a child, but a brilliant and depressed child. Throughout the writing the profound sadness of Nijinsky is present all the time and it makes one want to hug the man and tell him everything will be alright.

Then for the psychosis. Nijinsky knows that people think he is sick, but he claims in the diary that he just claims to be sick. However, he describes on almost every page how God talks to him and tells him to do or don't do certain things. Not in a way that your average religious person does, but in a way that elevates him to be almost Christlike, in his experience. He does not have mere opinions on things, he has the truth, because his ideas come from God. He wants to go to bed, but does not, because God tells him not to. He wants to comfort his wife, but God tells him not to. And in the end, he almost jumps of a cliff as well as almost freezes to death laying in the snow, because God tells him to. He sees blood in the snow, of which he later realizes that it is not actually there.
Still, there also seem to be pages of clear thinking, not bothered to much by schizophrenia, where he describes things of his personal and professional life.

Putting aside all of the psychosis and the personal parts, what remains is a sort of manifesto of love. And, if nothing else, it deserves to be read for just that reason.

[Sharon Barrow Wilfong · Rating 2 out of 5]

I read the Richard Buckle bio and saw that he got a lot of his information from Nijinsky's wife and the biography she wrote.

This book is not without merit and for those of us who are dedicated Nijinsky fans, the book will prove informational. The main problem is Mrs. Nijinsky's poor writing skills. The book reads like an over-long Christmas letter.

Also there is something artificial about it. No, she does not ignore any of the less savory details of her husband's life, such as the fact that he was sexually exploited, some would say abused, by Sergei Diaghilev. Nor does she hide the fact that her husband became increasingly unstable and finally broke down altogether spending most of his adult life in a mental hospital. The official diagnosis was schizophrenia.

Yet she writes with a happy gloss, like a hostess explaining a painting. It's like she herself cannot feel real emotion, or as if she cannot take off her company face.

So if you can stomach her schmaltzy writing style, you will find the book informative.

[Misty · Rating 4 out of 5]

total freak. you get the feeling the term "free spirit" was coined specifically for him. i had no idea, what a creative force he was. he was a dancer in a truly golden age, when dancers were famous, and real artists. amazing life story.

[Sam · Rating 5 out of 5]

big enjoyment reading this. hes like god but also speaks to god if that makes sense?? so like thought of the schizo is revealed as thought thinking itself which is really profound if you think about it.

[Eman · Rating 5 out of 5]

كأي فنان كان نجنسكي مرهف الحس ولكنها الرهافة التي بلغت درجة الضرر .. كان يؤمن بالحب وحده.. الحب في كل شيء وفي كل علاقة سواء كانت مع الله أم البشر أم الطبيعة أم الفن.. وكان ينطلق في تصرفاته اعتماداً على ما يشعر به وتكون قراراته مبنية على احساسه فحسب.. هكذا تفكير مثالي ومرهف ورقيق ينسجم مع روح الفنان ولكنه يتنافى مع حقيقة الحياة القاسية ومعتركها ..لذلك نشأ الاضطراب في حياة نجنسكي فلا شيء في هذه الدنيا مثالي وجميل ونقي.
خاض طفولة قاسية و فقراً دفع بوالدته إلى تعليمه الرقص منذ صغره فحمل العبء صغيراً وقاسى من الاستغلال الجسدي والمكائد ودخلت الحروب على الساحة فملأت الدنيا ظلماً فلم يجد نفسه سوى في معية الله والحب والفن .
علاقة نجنسكي بالفن حقيقية ومخلصة وبسبب شغفه الصادق لقي نجاحاً ضخماً ولكن النجاح لا يعني السعادة امتلك كل شيء ولكنه أضاع روحه وكان احساسه بعدم الانتماء وبأن لا أحد يفهمه يلقي بظلاله الكئيبة عليه ويحاصره حتى أصيب بالفصام وأدخل المصح العقلي حتى وفاته.
نشرت زوجته مذكراته هذه بعد وفاته .. ورغم أنها قد تبدو مذكرات شخصية جداً ولكن تأثيرها يخترق مشاعر القارئ ليثير فيها زوبعة قلق تماماً كما التي تنوء به الصفحات.. لم اقرأ من قبل مذكرات صادقة تماماً دون محاولة تلميع ودون محاولة ظهور بصورة لائقة.. صفحات من القلق والخوف والنقاء والصدق والانكسار.

لم اتوقع أن تعني لي مذكرات راقص باليه روسي الكثير ! ولكن حديث كولون ولسن في كتاب اللامنتمي عنه جذبني وقادني للبحث عن المذكرات التي ترجمها ببراعة الأستاذ عماد العتيلي مشكوراً.

[Maria Bodin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jag läste den, förstås, i den av Ellerströms utgivna svenska översättningen.

Nijinskys skrivhäften har coolt språk, men bara ibland kan man mystifierande inbilla sig att man läser något med sublima litterära kvaliteter, sprungna från en sjuk skalle. Till stor del består texten av torftiga politiska iakttagelser, i stil med "vi alla blöder rött", eller mer korrekt parafraserat "Jag är inte bolsjevik. Jag tillhör inte något parti utom Guds".

Som kulturhistorisk artefakt är väl verket mer intressant, särskilt med översättare Gunnar Linnaeus extremt långa förord, som ger inblick både i Nijinskys personliga öde och baletthistorien. Att Nijinskys dikter finns i original i boken är också det en sanslös lyx.

Översättarens noter och anmärkningar vittnar om ett kämpigt arbete med en kämpig text. De är också det mest estetiskt slående för mig. Det är fantastiskt konstigt att se vilka passager som Linnaeus väljer kommentera "Här blir Nijinskys resonemang otydligt" etc. i ett manus som är totalt blaj.

[Tony Gualtieri · Rating 5 out of 5]

This extremely moving diary was written as Nijinsky struggled with symptoms of schizophrenia in the spring of 1919. It's a painfully honest book. Throughout the text Nijinsky struggles with the horrors of the First World War, his acrimonious relationship with his ex-lover Diaghilev [who had spitefully fired him from Ballets Russes after Nijinsky married a Hungarian woman on a South American tour], his revulsion at eating meat, his deteriorating marriage, and the delusions that increasingly clouded his thoughts. It's heartbreaking for the reader to feel Nijinsky's mind fragmenting even as he proclaims his love for humanity and desire to atone for past failings. At the same time, there are passages of piercing lucidity where he discusses his career, dance, art, and his feelings about life and death. A complex and unforgettable work.

[Tatyana · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I am not crying, but have tears in my heart …"

"I like to speak in rhymes, because I am a rhyme myself."

"I loved listening to my footsteps; they were full of life."

"The Russian people are like children. One must love them and govern them well."

"You think that because I build everything on feeling, I have lost my mind. A man who bases everything on feeling is not horrible …"

"I will remain alone and cry in my loneliness. I cry in such a way as not to interfere with anyone. I will not cry now, because everyone will feel sorry for me. I do not want people to pity me, but to be loved."

"She thinks too much, and therefore has not enough feeling."

"I am happy because I am love"

[Jale · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dansta Tanrı'nın eli diye bir şey olsaydı bunun muhatabı olacak Nijinsky'nin günlüğü. Van Gogh gibi deli olmadığını, sadece "farklı" olduğunu anlatma çabası içindeki satırlar, aynı zamanda sanat dünyasının acımasızlığını, adaletsizliğini ve çarpık düzenini de yansıtıyor. Bir hümanist ve düşüncede anarşist olan Nijinsky'nin dünyanı anlama çabasına da tanıklık etme şansı buluyoruz.

[Ρένα Λούνα]

Η κουνελότρυπα των τελευταίων χρόνων με έριξε στα ημερολογιακά τετράδια του Βάτσλαφ Νιζίνσκι, ένα βιβλίο εξαντλημένο (κρίμα! Πρόκειται για πραγματικά εντυπωσιακά προσεγμένη έκδοση, γεμάτη με τρομερές πληροφορίες, αναλύσεις, βαθιές προσπάθειες κατανόησης, με ευγένεια και ανθρωπιά), για το οποίο δεν έχω να σας δώσω κανέναν ‘καλό’ λόγο να το διαβάσετε, όσοι κυνηγάτε την ‘καλή λογοτεχνία’.

Εγώ έχω τη δικιά μου κουνελότρυπα επιλογών, εσείς τη δικιά σας – εάν αυτές συνορεύουν, τότε ίσως να το αναζητήσετε, διότι παρά τον σπασμένο, σε άπειρα μέρη, λόγο του Νιζίνσκι, ίσως να υπάρχει κάποιο κέρδος. Προσωπικό, αόρατο και δύσκολο στην κατανόηση, αλλά αναμφισβήτητα, ψυχικό κέρδος. Το δικό μου ήταν: Πόσο σκληρή είναι η ζωή!· στο τέλος του βιβλίου –όταν πια ο πονοκέφαλος του αναγνώστη μπορεί να καταπιεί τη γη- φιγουράρουν πίνακες και σκίτσα όπου σημαντικές προσωπικότητες της εποχής, ζωγράφισαν τον βασιλιά του μπαλέτου. Πόσο λεπτή είναι η γραμμή της κοινωνίας, ανάμεσα στην αποθέωση και στο γύρισμα του ψυχρού ώμου.

Μάλλον συναισθηματισμοί – άρα ατόφιο καλό κέρδος για να αποκτήσει κανείς από ένα βιβλίο. Ταπεινό και μεγαλομανές αντικείμενο, κυρίως όμως μαγικό, εάν σκεφτεί κανείς πως το παραλήρημα ενός ανθρώπου διασώθηκε - και τώρα, σήμερα, εμείς από την άλλη πλευρά της γης μπορούμε να διαβάζουμε μικρές φωτεινές εκλάμψεις μέσα στο πελώριο σκοτεινό του. Μπορούμε να διαβάζουμε την απογύμνωση του, μιας και σε αυτό το σημείο ο χορευτής των αιώνων δεν θα μπορούσε να νοιαστεί για την αρετή των καλών τρόπων. Ελεύθερος και ψυχικά διαμελισμένος, παραδέχεται χαρωπά το μίσος για την πεθερά του, την αγάπη για τον Θεό του, την ανησυχία για την αγωνία της γυναίκας του, ενώ επιμένει πως θα ήθελε να δώσει τα ρούχα του στα φτωχά παιδιά, παρά την απέχθειά του στα δώρα. Αγάπη για το όρος Σινά, για τους μουζίκους, για τα μπαούλα. Δεν θέλει λέει να φάει σκοτωμένα ζώα, λέει, φοβάται τον θάνατο. Λέει πως ο Νίτσε τρελάθηκε γιατί κατάλαβε πως «δεν έγραψε τίποτα καλό».

Σκέψεις, αναμνήσεις, συναισθήματα, όλα σαν μια τελευταία, μακρά, πυρετωδώς γραμμένη, χορογραφία συνειρμών.

(Σας θυμίζω πως στο ίδιο πνεύμα, κυκλοφορεί από τις εκδύσεις Κοβάλτιο το «Περί τρέλας», μικρά κείμενα των Αντονέν Αρτώ, Βιρτζίνια Γουλφ, Φρήντριχ Νίτσε, Έντγκαρ Άλλαν Πόε, Μαίρη Σέλλεϋ σε μετάφραση Λαμπριάνα Οικονόμου – Μιχάλης Παπαντωνόπουλος)

Πως ξεκινάνε τα ημερολόγια του Νιζίνσκι:

«ΓΕΥΜΑΤΙΣΑ ΩΡΑΙΑ: ἔφαγα δυὸ αὐγά βραστά μαζί με πατάτες τηγανητὲς καὶ κουκιά. Μοῦ ἀρέσουν τὰ κουκιὰ ἀλλὰ εἶναι ξερά. Δὲν μοῦ ἀρέσουν τὰ ξερὰ κουκιά, γιατὶ δὲν ὑπάρχει ζωὴ μέσα τους. Ἡ Ἐλβετία εἶναι ἄρρωστη, γιατὶ εἶναι γεμάτη βουνά. Στὴν Ἐλβετία οἱ ἄνθρωποι εἶναι ξεροὶ γιατὶ δὲν ὑπάρχει ζωὴ μέσα τους. Ἔχω μιὰ καμαριέρα ξερή, ἐπειδὴ (δεν) αἰσθάνεται. Σκέφτεται πολύ, γιατὶ στὸ προηγούμενο μέρος ποὺ δούλευε γιὰ καιρό, τὴν ἀποξέραναν. Δὲν ἀγαπῶ τὴ Ζυρίχη, γιατί εἶναι μιὰ ξερὴ πόλη, μὲ πολλὰ ἐργοστάσια καὶ ἐπιχειρηματίες. Δὲν μοῦ ἀρέσουν οἱ στεγνοὶ ἄνθρωποι, γι' αὐτὸ δὲν μοῦ ἀρέσουν οἱ ἐπιχειρηματίες.»

Κλείνοντας, στο παρακάτω κείμενο ο Σεφέρης καταγράφει την εντύπωση του για τον Νιζίνσκι:

«Παρουσιάστηκε καθώς κοίταζα στο τζάκι μου τ’ αναμμένα κάρβουνα.

Κρατούσε στα χέρια ένα μεγάλο κουτί κόκκινα σπίρτα. Μου το ’δειξε σαν τους ταχυδακτυλουργούς που βγάζουν από τη μύτη του διπλανού μας ένα αυγό. Τράβηξε ένα σπίρτο, έβαλε φωτιά στο κουτί, χάθηκε πίσω από μια πελώρια φλόγα, κι ύστερα στάθηκε μπροστά μου.

Θυμάμαι το βυσσινί του χαμόγελο και τα γυαλένια του μάτια. Ένα οργανέτο στο δρόμο χτυπούσε ολοένα την ίδια νότα. Δεν ξέρω να πω τί φορούσε. Μ’ έκανε να συλλογίζομαι επίμονα ένα πορφυρό κυπαρίσσι. Σιγά σιγά τα χέρια του άρχισαν να ξεχωρίζουν από το τεντωμένο του κορμί σε σταυρό. Από πού μαζεύτηκαν τόσα πουλιά; Θα ’λεγες πως τα είχε κρυμμένα κάτω από τις φτερούγες του.

Πετούσαν αδέξια, παλαβά, με ορμή· χτυπούσαν πάνω στους τοίχους της στενής κάμαρας, πάνω στα τζάμια, και στρώνανε το πάτωμα σα χτυπημένα. Ένιωθα στα πόδια ένα ζεστό στρώμα από πούπουλα και σφυγμούς να φουσκώνει.

Τον κοίταζα με μια παράξενη θέρμη που κυρίευε το κορμί μου σαν κυκλοφορία. Όταν τελείωσε να υψώνει τα χέρια, όταν οι παλάμες του άγγιξαν η μια την άλλη, έκανε ένα ξαφνικό πήδημα, σα να είχε σπάσει το ελατήριο του ρολογιού μπροστά μου. Χτύπησε στο ταβάνι που ήχησε μονοκόμματα μ’ έναν ήχο κυμβάλου, τέντωσε το δεξί του χέρι, έπιασε το σύρμα της λάμπας, κουνήθηκε λιγάκι, αφέθηκε, κι άρχισε να γράφει μέσα στο σκοτεινό φως, με το κορμί του, τον αριθμό 8.

Το θέαμα αυτό με ζάλισε και σκέπασα με τα δυο μου χέρια το πρόσωπό μου. Έσφιγγα το σκοτάδι πάνω στα βλέφαρά μου, ακούγοντας το οργανέτο που εξακολουθούσε ακόμη στην ίδια νότα κι έπειτα σταμάτησε απότομα. Ένας ξαφνικός αέρας με χτύπησε, παγωμένος. Ένιωσα τα πόδια μου ξυλιασμένα. Άκουσα ακόμη ένα χαμηλό και βελουδένιο ήχο φλογέρας, κι αμέσως έπειτα, ένα στρωτό και παχύ πλατάγισμα. Άνοιξα τα μάτια. Τον είδα πάλι να πατά με τα νύχια σε μια κρουσταλλένια σφαίρα, στη μέση της κάμαρας, κρατώντας στο στόμα ένα αλλόκοτο πράσινο σουραύλι, που το κυβερνούσαν τα δάχτυλά του, σα να ήταν εφτά χιλιάδες. Τα πουλιά τώρα ξαναζωντάνευαν με μια εξωφρενική τάξη, υψωνόντουσαν, σμίγανε, σχηματίζανε μια χοντρή συνοδεία που θα μπορούσες να την αγκαλιάσεις, και βγαίναν προς τη νύχτα, από το παράθυρο, που, δεν ξέρω πώς, βρέθηκε ανοιχτό.

Όταν δεν απόμεινε πια ούτε μισή φτερούγα, εκτός από μια πνιγερή μυρωδιά κυνηγιού, αποφάσισα να τον κοιτάξω κατά πρόσωπο. Πρόσωπο δεν υπήρχε· πάνω από το πορφυρό κορμί, θα ’λεγες ακέφαλο, καμάρωνε μια μαλαματένια προσωπίδα, από εκείνες που βρέθηκαν στους μυκηναϊκούς τάφους, μ’ ένα μυτερό γένι που άγγιζε την τραχηλιά. Προσπάθησα να σηκωθώ. Δεν είχα κάνει την πρώτη κίνηση, κι ένας κατακλυσμιαίος ήχος, σα να είχαν σωριαστεί μια στοίβα τάσια σε νεκρώσιμο εμβατήριο, με κάρφωσε στη θέση μου.

Ήταν η προσωπίδα. Το πρόσωπό του φανερώθηκε πάλι, όπως το είδα στην αρχή, τα μάτια, το χαμόγελο και κάτι που τώρα παρατηρούσα για πρώτη φορά: το λευκό δέρμα τεντωμένο από δυο κατάμαυρα τσουλούφια που το δάγκωναν μπροστά στ’ αυτιά. Δοκίμασε να πηδήξει, μα δεν είχε πια την ευκινησία του την πρώτη. Θαρρώ μάλιστα πως σκόνταψε σ’ ένα βιβλίο πεσμένο κατά τύχη και γονάτισε με το ένα γόνατο. Μπορούσα τώρα να τον κοιτάξω με προσοχή. Έβλεπα τους πόρους στο δέρμα του να βγάζουν ψιλές στάλες ιδρώτα. Κάτι σα λαχάνιασμα με βάραινε. Προσπάθησα να εξηγήσω γιατί τα μάτια του μου είχαν φανεί τόσο περίεργα. Τα ’κλεισε. Έκανε να σηκωθεί, μα θα ήταν τρομερά δύσκολο, γιατί φαινόταν ν’ αγωνίζεται να μαζέψει όλη του τη δύναμη, χωρίς να μπορεί να καταφέρει τίποτε. Απεναντίας γονάτισε και με το άλλο γόνατο. Έβλεπα το άσπρο δέρμα τρομερά χλωμό, προς ένα κίτρινο φιλντισί, και τα μαύρα μαλλιά σαν πεθαμένα. Μολονότι βρισκόμουνα μπροστά σε μιαν αγωνία, είχα το συναίσθημα πως ήμουνα καλύτερα, πως είχα κάτι νικήσει. Δεν πρόφταξα να ανασάνω και τον είδα, ολότελα πεσμένο χάμω, να βυθίζεται μέσα σε μια πράσινη παγόδα που είναι ζωγραφισμένη πάνω στο χαλί μου.»

[Lindsey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Like Romola's edition of The Diary of Vaslav Nijinsky, it is difficult to rate this text on Nijinsky's words alone (and not only because this is an English translation of the original Russian & French). Acocella has an influence over the Diary through her introduction, footnotes, and inclusion of photographs of and artwork by Nijinsky. It is also much more clinical in comparison to Romola's 1968 edition, since Acocella's point-of-view is more objective, even as her in-depth contextualizing sometimes gets in the way of the Vaslav Nijinsky Experience.

All of those blasphemous, sex-addled, what-the-fuck-is-he-talking-about moments are now available in FULL though (does that mean the Diary suddenly makes sense? Who knows!). Until you read this edition, however: you will not know the full extent to which sex impacts Nijinsky. You will not fully understand why Nijinsky is a tragedy, as abhorrent as he is beautiful. You will not understand his relationships with the people closest to him in life, from his mother to Diaghilev to Romola, his wife, and Kyra, his daughter. This text is definitely not his diary though; material has been added and mistakes have been removed. Nonetheless, it is a culmination of hard work and research, so any fan of Nijinsky, personal writings, or something on the stranger side will enjoy reading it. (I do recommend reading Romola's edition beforehand, if you decide to read them both.)

[Melissa Crady · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nijinsky's thoughts seem so jumbled an contradicting. I felt confused a lot by his frequent terms of "feeling" and "love". It made me feel sad as it came across to me that he didn't really know what either really meant and didn't use them in proper context or he would contradict himself by saying he loved someone but then say he didn't.

I'm quite fascinated by Nijinsky and just recently started really learning about him but one common thread seems to be that people thought he was stupid, and I found it to be quite the opposite. By the way he writes I can see how people would think that however his writing just seems like he doesn't know the correct words to properly express what he wants to say. From the footnotes on some of the pages it was obvious that he misused words or used different terms and languages. It could simply be a case of miscommunication by not sticking to a static language.

In any case this view into his mind was a wonderful read, though it left me with more questions than answers and more curiosities that have yet to be satisfied so I shall continue my research. I wished to learn more about his relationship with Diaghilev. For someone who was in a physical relationship which affected him professionally for so long, Nijinsky seems to be mostly indifferent to it.

[Karin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quite possibly THE most fascinating book I have ever read, and ever will read. This book is literally the diary of one of the greatest ballet legends as he takes a nose-dive into insanity. It's not just written to mimic madness; it actually is raw madness. This is definitely not a family-friendly book. It's kind of hard to read because his thought process is so random, and it's very candid and sometimes kind of gross. The diary covers the last few months of his life, during which his wife has him start seeing a psychologist, and then go to an asylum where he later dies. It's kind of a love it or hate it book.

There really isn't much of a story line, it's mostly just Nijinsky's rambling thoughts and ideas about dance, God, bodily functions, future plans to get rich, debating his sanity, etc. Buried in the randomness there are actually some pretty brilliant insights. I read it for a psychology class presentation on Schizophrenia, and pulled from the text to exemplify certain trademark thought processes in people with Schizophrenia.

I didn't finish reading it before I had to take it back, but getting immersed in it was making me feel like I was going crazy too, so I was ok with leaving the rest unread :)

[Haruka · Rating 4 out of 5]

He is simply beautiful in every way. He makes me sad and he makes me happy. He makes me think about everything and he makes me think about nothing. One of the most beautiful things one can read is a pure genuine, bare and bold person's diary. Which is precisely what this is. His personal writing describes why human beings are endlessly beautiful, and that there is nothing more impacting than purity and genuineness. Why this is not a full five stars rating is for no other reason that it simply doesn't feel like a book, or something period, to hail. It simply is what it is, and that is all there needs to be. So to me, there is not really a significant difference between five and four stars, I love books that I've rated four and five just as much, but in different ways obviously. Some books I feel like saying they are a five to me, and for some books I don't feel like it. But it has nothing to do with superiority in any kind of way just because they are a five to me over a four. Had the rating system been more complex, what I am saying would make sense. Beautiful, genuine, pure, as it should be.

[Alex Diaz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am a biography fanatic, and seeing as Nijinsky is one of the most famous and influential dancers of all time, I figured this would be a pretty rewarding read. What I didn’t anticipate was how uncomfortable I would feel while reading it. This diary captures Nijisnky’s descent into madness over the course of one month, and between Nijinsky’s unfortunate love of repetition and his insistence that he is God, much of it reads like a compendium of Gertrude Stein’s “what-would-i-say” posts (out of context, hilarious, in context, devastating). This book represents to me the dangers of fame when dealing with one’s humanity, and the further dangers of repressing one’s homosexual tendencies through marriage. Either way, this book hit me in a place I didn’t realize I had, and I almost wish I hadn’t read it because it makes me hesitant about the road ahead, as both an artist, a gay man, and a human being. Definitely not a book for the weak of heart (or stomach).

Overall Rating: Devastating, but fascinating. A train wreck of human frailty and the cruelties of fame.

[Pedro · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mixed feelings. Perhaps I had lots of expectations about this book. I expected much more about ballet, creation and performance. All we got it’s a portrait of the human madness. Sometimes I felt like a morbid invader of the sick psyche of this genius and that makes it painful, not only because of the empathy it generates but because we know how it ended. It becomes even more ironic because the fantasy of ballet and artistic creation, which makes us dream and gain wings, has roots so deep and so black.

[Sandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I fell in love with this angst-ridden diary when we read it in "Madness in Literature" with Don Levine at UMASS in the late 70's. I was at a point in my life where I could immerse myself in other peoples woes and be riveted and woe-filled myself.... utterly absurd in retrospect. But it was an interesting insight into the dance world of Diaghelev and the Ballet Russe in the teens and twenties, and the mind of a brilliant dancer spiraling down into his own abyss.

[flo · Rating 1 out of 5]

I always finish books, but can't make it through this one. Although it's interesting, after a while it feels a little sad and voyeuristic. Nijinsky repeats and contradicts himself constantly, there's no real constant train of thought.

[A. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Repetitive, pedantic, contradictory, ecstatic.
I'm overwhelmed with love for these simplistic rants - amazing, cyclical arrogance.
Apparently, all you have to do is chant "god", "meat", "heart", and "blood", and I am won.