What do you think?
Rate this book
From "A Journal of Love" #5
Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin
Mirages opens at the dawn of World War II, when Anaïs Nin fled Paris, where she lived for fifteen years with her husband, banker Hugh Guiler, and ends in 1947 when she meets the man who would be “the One,” the lover who would satisfy her insatiable hunger for connection. In the middle looms a period Nin describes as “hell,” during which she experiences a kind of erotic madness, a delirium that fuels her search for love. As a child suffering abandonment by her father, Anaïs wrote, “Close your eyes to the ugly things,” and, against a horrifying backdrop of war and death, Nin combats the world’s darkness with her own search for light.
Mirages collects, for the first time, the story that was cut from all of Nin’s other published diaries, particularly volumes 3 and 4 of The Diary of Anaïs Nin, which cover the same time period. It is the long-awaited successor to the previous unexpurgated diaries Henry and June, Incest, Fire, and Nearer the Moon. Mirages answers the questions Nin readers have been asking for decades: What led to the demise of Nin’s love affair with Henry Miller? Just how troubled was her marriage to Hugh Guiler? What is the story behind Nin’s “children,” the effeminate young men she seemed to collect at will? Mirages is a deeply personal story of heartbreak, despair, desperation, carnage, and deep mourning, but it is also one of courage, persistence, evolution, and redemption that reaches beyond the personal to the universal.
Mirages collects, for the first time, the story that was cut from all of Nin’s other published diaries, particularly volumes 3 and 4 of The Diary of Anaïs Nin, which cover the same time period. It is the long-awaited successor to the previous unexpurgated diaries Henry and June, Incest, Fire, and Nearer the Moon. Mirages answers the questions Nin readers have been asking for decades: What led to the demise of Nin’s love affair with Henry Miller? Just how troubled was her marriage to Hugh Guiler? What is the story behind Nin’s “children,” the effeminate young men she seemed to collect at will? Mirages is a deeply personal story of heartbreak, despair, desperation, carnage, and deep mourning, but it is also one of courage, persistence, evolution, and redemption that reaches beyond the personal to the universal.
440 pages, Hardcover
First published October 13, 2013
114 people are currently reading
2676 people want to read
About the author
Anaïs Nin
355 books8,883 followersWriter 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).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ana%C3%...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ana%C3%...
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
December 2, 2015
The most recent volume of The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin entitled “Mirages” begins with Anais Nin and Henry Miller who continue to correspond with each other. Along with her letters to Henry, she is still sending him her husband Hugo's money so that Miller can survive as a “starving artist.” Anais and Henry are no longer a romantic couple because he has moved away, and Anais considers this break of their bond a personal rejection because by moving away, he has proven he can live without her. By this time, she is growing weary of his lifestyle, finding his comments against the bourgeois, or even worker's lifestyle, hypocritical since has no problem taking money from workers like Hugo. She sees his behavior as childish, selfish and parasitic which she hadn't in the previous volumes of the Diaries. She longs for a clean break from him.
This break in her decades-long love affair with Henry sets the tone for “Mirages,” leading Anais on an odyssey to find the one, true love of her life who can be an equal partner to her, both of mind, maturity and sexuality, in which she feels both Hugo and Henry fall short. She has a series of affairs and becomes obsessed with one man after the other.
In her efforts to free herself from Henry, she switches her focus to a man named Albert and falls in love with him. She is so distraught during her relationship with him and its aftermath only to have her feelings transferred to yet another man who is also a mismatch for her named Bill. There are three Bills that she falls for in Mirages, and none of them are The One, but Bill Pinckard is the Bill she falls the hardest for. She has an affair with him and spends time with him and his platonic female friend named Frances. Frances knows that Anais and Bill are lovers and that Anais is torn up about the fact that Bill can't be the partner she longs for. Frances criticizes Anais, saying she shouldn't sexualize everything. She tells Anais that her own non-sexual relationship with Bill is a beautiful relationship that is intellectual and pure which can last forever. Anais senses jealousy in Frances' attempt at comforting her and says: “Well, we each got what we wanted. I wanted passion.” This is a recurring problem for Anais – the fact that she is a sexual person and a lot of the women around her aren't. It's a problem that continues today: the fact that women have to choose whether they are going to be seen primarily for their sexuality or primarily as a platonic, intellectual friend. It is a choice that men never have to make. The truth is, whether women choose to be the sexual mate or the intellectual mate, both types of women lose. It's a lesson demonstrated perfectly in the film, “Splendor in the Grass,” starring Natalie Wood. But if there ever was a woman who could encompass both, it was Anais Nin. She didn't lose, and she never shied away from defending her lifestyle.
After her devastating break-up with Bill, she continues to meet more men: the two other Bills and a man she calls “Chinchillito” who she sees on the beach one day and realizes she just has to have him because of his beauty. She calls him “Sun Man.” I was surprised to see her still involved with her “fiery” lover, Gonzalo More, from previous volumes of the Diaries, and she's still hot and heavy with him, but his parasitic nature, similar to Henry Miller, is becoming distasteful to her. She also thinks he is lazy. One of the very last men she falls hard for is a young Gore Vidal who was the only name I recognized out of her string of new men mentioned in “Mirages.” She feels a very strong mental connection with Gore and falls madly in love with him. But he is like Frances and only wants a platonic relationship with her. He is primarily homosexual but does indeed love Anais. He wants to marry her and live non-sexually. Anais toys with this idea but realizes that as a supremely passionate woman, she would never be satisfied in a marriage like that.
After reading her accounts of her extreme depressions which often drive her near suicide following her break-ups with Albert, Bill and Gore, I wanted to smack her and ask her how she could keep falling madly in love over and over again? But then I realized that through her examinations of both herself and each man and the dedicated documenting of them in her diary, she is actually making progress and learning how to shield herself away from falling for the wrong man in the future. If she didn't painstakingly examine each relationship, she wouldn't make the progress she does by the end of the book. After hours and hours of writing, she realizes that all of these men are fantasies she built up in her mind, yet she wouldn't know that if she hadn't been keeping her diary.
Finally, she meets Rupert Pole who is a suitable partner for her both mentally and sexually. He embraces her strength, and he has a much stronger sense of self than any of the others did. “Mirages” ends with the beginning of her relationship with Rupert Pole which continued for the rest of her life.
After the 2006 death of Rupert Pole who faithfully began publishing her previously edited diaries in their original form years after Anais Nin's death, I feared there would never be another unexpurgated diary released. But Paul Herron of Sky Blue Press has taken over the publishing of her diaries, and in my opinion, he is her Patron Saint and someone whom all die-hard Nin fans like myself should be indebted to.
I really enjoyed “Mirages” immensely. In addition to being able to experience her development of self throughout this volume, there are also more of her trademark descriptions of how to enjoy the simple, everyday things in life which are contained in every volume of her Diaries, both edited and unexpurgated. “Mirages” is an incredible read and a must for every Nin fan. I'm thoroughly looking forward to “Trapeze,” the next installment of the Unexpurgated Diary due to be released next year, to read more of Anais Nin's accounts of finally finding happiness and satisfaction with Rupert Pole.
This break in her decades-long love affair with Henry sets the tone for “Mirages,” leading Anais on an odyssey to find the one, true love of her life who can be an equal partner to her, both of mind, maturity and sexuality, in which she feels both Hugo and Henry fall short. She has a series of affairs and becomes obsessed with one man after the other.
In her efforts to free herself from Henry, she switches her focus to a man named Albert and falls in love with him. She is so distraught during her relationship with him and its aftermath only to have her feelings transferred to yet another man who is also a mismatch for her named Bill. There are three Bills that she falls for in Mirages, and none of them are The One, but Bill Pinckard is the Bill she falls the hardest for. She has an affair with him and spends time with him and his platonic female friend named Frances. Frances knows that Anais and Bill are lovers and that Anais is torn up about the fact that Bill can't be the partner she longs for. Frances criticizes Anais, saying she shouldn't sexualize everything. She tells Anais that her own non-sexual relationship with Bill is a beautiful relationship that is intellectual and pure which can last forever. Anais senses jealousy in Frances' attempt at comforting her and says: “Well, we each got what we wanted. I wanted passion.” This is a recurring problem for Anais – the fact that she is a sexual person and a lot of the women around her aren't. It's a problem that continues today: the fact that women have to choose whether they are going to be seen primarily for their sexuality or primarily as a platonic, intellectual friend. It is a choice that men never have to make. The truth is, whether women choose to be the sexual mate or the intellectual mate, both types of women lose. It's a lesson demonstrated perfectly in the film, “Splendor in the Grass,” starring Natalie Wood. But if there ever was a woman who could encompass both, it was Anais Nin. She didn't lose, and she never shied away from defending her lifestyle.
After her devastating break-up with Bill, she continues to meet more men: the two other Bills and a man she calls “Chinchillito” who she sees on the beach one day and realizes she just has to have him because of his beauty. She calls him “Sun Man.” I was surprised to see her still involved with her “fiery” lover, Gonzalo More, from previous volumes of the Diaries, and she's still hot and heavy with him, but his parasitic nature, similar to Henry Miller, is becoming distasteful to her. She also thinks he is lazy. One of the very last men she falls hard for is a young Gore Vidal who was the only name I recognized out of her string of new men mentioned in “Mirages.” She feels a very strong mental connection with Gore and falls madly in love with him. But he is like Frances and only wants a platonic relationship with her. He is primarily homosexual but does indeed love Anais. He wants to marry her and live non-sexually. Anais toys with this idea but realizes that as a supremely passionate woman, she would never be satisfied in a marriage like that.
After reading her accounts of her extreme depressions which often drive her near suicide following her break-ups with Albert, Bill and Gore, I wanted to smack her and ask her how she could keep falling madly in love over and over again? But then I realized that through her examinations of both herself and each man and the dedicated documenting of them in her diary, she is actually making progress and learning how to shield herself away from falling for the wrong man in the future. If she didn't painstakingly examine each relationship, she wouldn't make the progress she does by the end of the book. After hours and hours of writing, she realizes that all of these men are fantasies she built up in her mind, yet she wouldn't know that if she hadn't been keeping her diary.
Finally, she meets Rupert Pole who is a suitable partner for her both mentally and sexually. He embraces her strength, and he has a much stronger sense of self than any of the others did. “Mirages” ends with the beginning of her relationship with Rupert Pole which continued for the rest of her life.
After the 2006 death of Rupert Pole who faithfully began publishing her previously edited diaries in their original form years after Anais Nin's death, I feared there would never be another unexpurgated diary released. But Paul Herron of Sky Blue Press has taken over the publishing of her diaries, and in my opinion, he is her Patron Saint and someone whom all die-hard Nin fans like myself should be indebted to.
I really enjoyed “Mirages” immensely. In addition to being able to experience her development of self throughout this volume, there are also more of her trademark descriptions of how to enjoy the simple, everyday things in life which are contained in every volume of her Diaries, both edited and unexpurgated. “Mirages” is an incredible read and a must for every Nin fan. I'm thoroughly looking forward to “Trapeze,” the next installment of the Unexpurgated Diary due to be released next year, to read more of Anais Nin's accounts of finally finding happiness and satisfaction with Rupert Pole.
October 20, 2018
Edited by Paul Herron.While Nin’s writing skill and candor are admirable, her continuous focus on sex and facilitating the welfare of various lovers becomes as tiresome to read as it must have been to enact. Nin’s diary and her fiction are literary feats, but one can’t help thinking that larger social and political issues could have been supported or at any rate, approached. Her fixations seem like psychological disorders rather than liberation. When she broke with Henry Miller, the letters that flew between them revealed her overweening egotism as she accuses him of not sufficiently valuing the financial help she had, for years, extended. Yet this was her choice. Miller had existed without her aid for years prior to their meeting. One sees that Nin’s generosity was largely based on how this made her feel: powerful, kind, important. Henry, 12 years into their affair, gained the confidence along with the increasing interest in his books, to branch out beyond Nin’s purview: going to Greece or Corfu to meet with Durrell and when relocated to the U.S., traveling to California where he reveled in his freedom. This enraged Nin who accused him of denying the importance of her support, not appreciating her suffering in order to give to him and her other “children” Her need to give was anchored in a deeper need to control. Letters of this period reveal Nin as having an hysterical bent, concentrating on her psychic pain and wounds for which she blamed her lovers. While clearly intuitive and creative, she expected gratitude from those she supported. She believed she restructured their personalities, channeled their talent and opened them sexually. After distancing herself from Henry and Gonzalo, Nin concentrated on young men, some homosexual such as Gore Vidal with whom she had a non-physical affair or the 17 year old Bill with whom she found the height of sexual pleasure. She enjoyed introducing young inexperienced boys to the joys of sex, while realizing she needed an adult man to fulfill her pursuit of the ideal. Hugh remained in the role of husband, never realizing the extent of Anais’ infidelities. Anais’ mercurial nature made her leap from love to hatred in a matter of days, most of which was transference of her own unsatisfied emotions. It is difficult to form a concrete opinion of Anais Nin. Despite her faults, she was well aware of her narcissistic tendencies, though for the most part her interior self-regard made her fancy her role as a benevolent goddess. A pioneer of female adventurism, her diary will remain as an important document.
April 19, 2019
Call me prude whatever i don't care....but if only she didn't sleep with teenagers when she's reaching 40 (i call it pulling a Madonna), this would have been a better book. Seriously. Don't talk to me about the norm of that time. I really don't care. This is not a line i'm willing to cross.
February 8, 2014
I just love Anais. I feel a lot like her, while being a lot unlike her, empathising with her, confused by her, always astounded by her. I simply find her fascinating and provoking. I can't help but be pulled into a fantasy with her. All dreams are real. She was unique.
Read
April 7, 2024feels wrong to rate someone’s diary, so i won’t. but i loved this. she speaks to my soul.
May 14, 2014
Nin's diaries are perfect for when you only have ten minutes here or twenty minutes there to read them, as the entries are short. This particular volume seems to encompass the period of the greatest unhappiness in her life, but then again this is Anais Nin, so she squeezes in some terrific hot sex into her general ennui. And, as always, Nin provides a feast of language. I've just been reading some letters passed back and forth with Henry Miller toward the end of their relationship. She manages the difficult feat of making him look like a reasonable person. She can only be described as distraught during this period, and manages to find insult in Miller's most conciliatory passages.
But I still love the diaries. Taken altogether this is your best chance to really know a person through a lifetime of their most intimate thoughts.
But I still love the diaries. Taken altogether this is your best chance to really know a person through a lifetime of their most intimate thoughts.
January 24, 2017
"Only in fever do I feel life."
Nin is nothing without others-- a depressive shell of a soul-- but with others, she is beautifully, wonderfully, achingly everything. She cannot endure the mild temperament of simple love, of settling, of ennui. She is manic and wild and obsessed with her lovers, a chameleon-collage of them all. And I can't get enough.
To be in love with passion is to be absolutely mad, a manic enigma. Nin expresses it perfectly.
I have never related so deeply to another description of a vicarious life through passion. I am obsessed with Nin's writing. It brings me great peace to know I'm not alone in my love for love, and in the ensuing madness.
Nin is nothing without others-- a depressive shell of a soul-- but with others, she is beautifully, wonderfully, achingly everything. She cannot endure the mild temperament of simple love, of settling, of ennui. She is manic and wild and obsessed with her lovers, a chameleon-collage of them all. And I can't get enough.
To be in love with passion is to be absolutely mad, a manic enigma. Nin expresses it perfectly.
I have never related so deeply to another description of a vicarious life through passion. I am obsessed with Nin's writing. It brings me great peace to know I'm not alone in my love for love, and in the ensuing madness.
July 4, 2019
Llevo tanto tiempo leyendo a Anaïs Nin que ya es más amiga mía que algunas de mis amigas. Pero que ninguna se me ofenda, por favor. Es que esta señora era pura introspección y puro fuego. Podría haber vivido en cualquier época y el resultado de estos diarios fascinantes sería el mismo porque en ellos habla de lo universal, de lo único que importa en realidad. Os recomiendo que también vosotras os hagáis sus amigas. Ya veréis como después lo entendéis todo. Pero todo.
stopped
February 22, 2020I really love Nin's writing style and way of thinking about many things. Just too long to finish now, but absolutely a writer I would love to return to.
March 21, 2021
Mirages brings Nin’s complicated, dramatic, and lust-filled affairs to the forefront, as she searches for the real lover who understands the depths of her being. Oftentimes, I saw myself in her––her anxious attachment style, the idealisation of a partner’s potential, always living in the dream, and how the unhealed wounds of her father plagued her romantic life.
And yet, in a strange paradox, Nin has the rare power of being completely open and vulnerable, but carries the heaviest secret of all: somehow keeping her numerous affairs (and even second marriage!!) from her devoted husband, Hugo. I still can’t wrap my brain around how he could have been completely oblivious to Nin’s unfaithfulness. I suppose sometimes we only see what we wish to see, blinding ourselves to the truth.
Regardless, it’s a fascinating diary filled with sexual exploration, the lovers that come and go, sensitivity, and healing, healing, healing. It is a constant journey of being pulled into the darkness of the shadow self and finding the light again and again ("I touched the bottom again and then liberated myself”).
Here are a few of my favorite quotes, to gain a sense of Nin’s poetic and lovely writing style:
“I felt the flow again, the mellowness, a sense of connection with the currents of life. I am in the dream again.”
“Yes, I am in love; it is a feeling that opens one like a flower, fills one with essences that make one mobile and singing like the wind or the sea.”
“I am so open to the world, so open, so much in contact with it, it is like a huge cosmic love affair!”
“I gave myself to the sea and returned with strength.”
“I live openly, ready for the pain, the separations and losses. I am not holding on. Open and free, sad at moments, but knowing the deep joys are worth all that follows. Deep joys. One must be willing to suffer, to surrender.”
“Pleasure is always there, always possible, when one is not obsessed with a quest to conquer the unattainable, to force one’s will upon the unwilling, to change the unchangeable, to conquer what is not conquerable, to want what cannot be taken.”
“The cage is open, but I don’t know how to fly.”
“How some can find the entrances to the being, and others cannot.”
And yet, in a strange paradox, Nin has the rare power of being completely open and vulnerable, but carries the heaviest secret of all: somehow keeping her numerous affairs (and even second marriage!!) from her devoted husband, Hugo. I still can’t wrap my brain around how he could have been completely oblivious to Nin’s unfaithfulness. I suppose sometimes we only see what we wish to see, blinding ourselves to the truth.
Regardless, it’s a fascinating diary filled with sexual exploration, the lovers that come and go, sensitivity, and healing, healing, healing. It is a constant journey of being pulled into the darkness of the shadow self and finding the light again and again ("I touched the bottom again and then liberated myself”).
Here are a few of my favorite quotes, to gain a sense of Nin’s poetic and lovely writing style:
“I felt the flow again, the mellowness, a sense of connection with the currents of life. I am in the dream again.”
“Yes, I am in love; it is a feeling that opens one like a flower, fills one with essences that make one mobile and singing like the wind or the sea.”
“I am so open to the world, so open, so much in contact with it, it is like a huge cosmic love affair!”
“I gave myself to the sea and returned with strength.”
“I live openly, ready for the pain, the separations and losses. I am not holding on. Open and free, sad at moments, but knowing the deep joys are worth all that follows. Deep joys. One must be willing to suffer, to surrender.”
“Pleasure is always there, always possible, when one is not obsessed with a quest to conquer the unattainable, to force one’s will upon the unwilling, to change the unchangeable, to conquer what is not conquerable, to want what cannot be taken.”
“The cage is open, but I don’t know how to fly.”
“How some can find the entrances to the being, and others cannot.”
January 3, 2017
The writing is lush and bold. She writes beautifully. That alone would make this worth reading for many people. I can easily image, as well, how responsive a person in the 15 year old - 25 year old range may be to Anais' experiences. Also, how titillating this would have been to a person of any age reading it in the 30s, 40s, and 50s.
I could not feel that, being a 40ish woman in 2013. I found her overly dramatic and honestly did not care much for her life choices and lifestyle. So, as much credit I will give to her writing style, and as fulfilled I am having finally read one of Anais Nin's books, I know I will not reread this nor read another of hers. The preface by Paul Herron and introduction by Kim Krizan were fabulous, and contributed to the 3 stars.
I could not feel that, being a 40ish woman in 2013. I found her overly dramatic and honestly did not care much for her life choices and lifestyle. So, as much credit I will give to her writing style, and as fulfilled I am having finally read one of Anais Nin's books, I know I will not reread this nor read another of hers. The preface by Paul Herron and introduction by Kim Krizan were fabulous, and contributed to the 3 stars.
June 22, 2019
On par with some of the more recent volumes of Nin's unexpurgated diaries in terms of writing style, Mirages is mainly about Nin's search for a man who will love her as she wants to be loved, though what that would require changes quite a bit. She seems attracted to men-children. The diary entries offer portraits of her many lovers, including Henry Miller and Edmund Wilson, and those she wanted to be (Gore Vidal). It talks to some extent about psychoanalysis and her fiction. There aren't any notes telling a new reader who the men and women in Nin's new york circle are, which is a drawback. Of some interest, then, on those levels, and of primary interest for how one woman thought of the duties and roles of women in the 1930s-1940s in the united states.
December 10, 2025
I’m going to change this review to something more honest and ‘me’ which is my own journal. It’s the right mirror and it’s what I did with Alphabetical Diaries. It’s impulsive and indulgent but I think the more manicured pieces I’ve been writing, though fun, have taken me too far from my more direct and exposed style. So I’m not going to try anymore.
Feel free to flag as parts of this are outrageous.
First Anaïs though. I wanted to include more of her explicit passages but I’ve literally hit the character limit.
1939-1947
*
2025
If you’re attracted to a woman, don’t deny that for yourself or let it drive you but rather let it nudge you to create a space for her to step into if she wants to.
T thinks I should use dating apps twice a year for a month each. R thinks I should be with someone thoughtful.
I articulated a lot to C and her friends about what I was looking for in a partner and the challenges I faced.
On what I was looking for I explained why I wanted a relationship. Regular quality time to be myself with someone. Physical intimacy. Laughter. Banal but essential.
Who I wanted was hard to say: people are complex and dynamic. It is hard to be certain about real people. But I knew what I valued. And it is interesting that I could only say three.
I started with health. I said I didn’t want a woman’s poor mental health to dominate our relationship. I was unapologetic about wanting someone who exercised. I said strength which I applied many meanings to: resilience, effort, stability. I said beauty, again unapologetically, because I had been with women I was not attracted to and it was unsustainable. But also beauty in the broader sense of the word, that which is pleasing to the senses, because I wanted to live in a beautiful home in a beautiful neighbourhood, and be in delightful spaces, even things like clutter and cleanliness.
I don’t know if I said it but I don’t think I did, but warmth. I should have said warmth. The enthusiasm of R to make plans. The ease with which to be with them.
But it was something else X told me that made me realise something. He became trapped in a relationship. He had to end it with a letter and the woman was distraught. He reminded her of her dead father. He said she was dependent on him.
I realised then that I feared being trapped.
I realised I needed the confidence to leave. I need the confidence to start and stop.
I want a woman who watches porn, who doesn’t have a fully furnished home, and who doesn’t know how to drive, or have a lot of savings. I want someone like me. So why do I apply these as conditions to myself as if I am not good enough for a relationship now?
I think what I want more than anything is equality. Equal strength, equal goals, equal effort.
What did I learn from the session with B? He thought the N situation was lovely but agreed with me that I should leave it to her to reach out and continue with my plans: both to visit Copenhagen next year, and to still try to set things up in the real world with people like X. I can still post on Goodreads, not as indirect communication with her but still with an awareness that she is reading it.
It’s been six months since my five weeks off. The note where I recorded my lessons has lost its salience but I want to record what was important.
Most of all I enjoyed the freedom of not going to work—the thing I wouldn’t do in my free time. I need to take more time off. Each day I napped and felt refreshed. The gigs, Amelie Lens and Solomon, were important experiences in dancing which made me feel vigorous and more loose and confident with my body. Mushrooms were brilliant for reflection and 2CB was odd, I’m not sure I want to do it again but I’m glad I did. A swim at the beach was beautiful, and I felt so fit going to the gym regularly. Started each day at the café was delightful and led to so many unpredictable interactions.
I loved the lazy days at home in my beautiful space, reading books and listening to music, and even writing songs. I kept my digital space relatively clean. I got my teethed fixed, I saw B, I cut and coloured my hair, and I had a delightful experience talking with X in the gallery after a long stroll.
I enjoyed chatting to X and others in the gym. Lunches and brunches and breakfasts and dinners with H and P and X, M (surprise coffee and watermelon), T, T, R, tennis with H, Christmas cocaine with P and A and C’s pals. N was a fun creative engagement that I didn’t expect to generate such strong romantic feelings which are still burning six months later.
It was nice to see others too. I was sad I didn’t get to see R who seems like just someone I see at work.
G said I looked jacked which I really appreciated and felt was true.
Hey don’t give a fuck saying hello warmly to someone like M at the gym. You would appreciate it if she did it to you, providing you are respectful. The key is not having a strategy, thinking you have to take it somewhere. The point is literally just to create a moment and not try to control its outcome.
I wake up at 4am and masturbate to the thought of N. I come, ecstatic thinking of her. I look at my phone, she has posted a photo of a vibrator, her beautiful face, and she says she sent me a drop of herself after melting in the sun.
I think M can meet a partner online but it is unlikely to happen at work due to the nature of that environment. It could happen totally randomly in a break from the usual environment. That’s how Stephen Colbert meet his parter—a random family cultural event. That’s how Conan O’Brien meet his wife—a random work remote.
Just had P and A over and they were so kind and glowing about my apartment. I really appreciated it and they made me feel like I didn’t need to do anymore but also that what I had done was beautiful and complete.
X is so good at initiating. She said ‘you’re welcome to join me’.
I want a way out of fantasising about N. Not because I don’t love her and because she doesn’t love me, but because what’s the point. I want to partner with a woman I can share something physical and beautiful with. I want to get her pregnant and be a supportive father. I’m drawn to N in part because there is no real world alternative, not that N isn’t real. It would have been different if she spoke to me normally. I’m still confused about her decision to message me obliquely and then end it with offering her number, like a last ditch effort to hold onto me even though she herself wouldn’t initiate. That was the point, she wants me to initiate, not her, even though there is no point to initiation. If she was here or I there and she didn’t have a boyfriend all I would want would be a coffee. Simple. Do I want to keep engaging with this creative writing dialogue? Maybe. I just don’t expect it to go anywhere. It’s more so an opportunity to indulge my romantic fantasy. A creative intelligent mocking caring slightly acerbic woman who wants to start a family.
There’s an element of N that is humorous and ridiculous. Silly almost. Yet tormented at the same time. Odd.
Dreamt about M from the gym. She was sitting with me and could see my iPad which kept bringing up porn. I tried to say it kept coming up when I was trying to get to a website and she reached out to have a look and then started caressing me and getting me to touch her. It was erotic and relieving. To have my sexuality accepted by a woman I desired. I really appreciate her warmth at the gym.
C comforted me about my dead plants by saying if they weren’t strong enough to survive then fuck em.
N resonates because her blog embodies an intense longing. Strange for someone in a relationship. But anyway, we don’t know each other socially. It’s more a connection based on relating to similar emotions.
N is really fun. I don’t know if it will go anywhere but I really value the creative interaction.
Sex dream about X and X. Class with them at the gym. Spilled something. Sat back down and X pulled me in and kissed me on the cheek. Happened after the night of going to HIIT at 7 wearing a singlet and feeling like I had a large chest and arms. Woke up 3am and masturbated to orgasm to the fantasy of sex with both of them. Sharing their love of each other with me.
It’s so silly how happy I am that I had a successful conversation with X at the gym.
Why do I feel like I love P? Because he hugged me and said I was part of the family after regularly inviting me around to do cocaine with his wife, kids and friends in a beautiful home and he is a well-dressed family man who cares about culture and enjoying life after a long career?
I think what I’ve realised through N is that I long to devote myself to someone I admire. Because situations in the past haven’t worked out where I have done that I have blamed devotion as an unhealthy romantic quality. It’s not. It’s about that devotion being accepted and returned. I want a woman to love my devotion and feel devoted to me in her own way, not necessarily looking like how I do it but genuine to her. I do feel devoted to N and I feel a strange devotion back from her. She wants my attention and desire. She desires me but in a way that says she will not choose me over her life or her partner which is appropriate and healthy. An interesting year.
Lately I’ve been thinking about bisexuality. It probably stems from the porn I like to watch. But I also fantasise about threesomes with B and D where D would fuck me while B would blow/suck/theres not a good word for it
I want to remove my body hair. Maybe even armpit. Men can be so beautiful.
N’s voice is still my fantasy. I find her face and body so beautiful.
Intense edging this morning thinking of N. Her black hair. Her flat chest. Her pregnant body. I precum and taste it which has become a thing lately, its sweetness. I go to shower because I don’t want to have an orgasm, I want to hold onto this energy. I keep edging. I’ve become vocal lately. I say things ‘I want to cum in N, I want to cum her pussy, I want to cum in her pregnant pussy.’ Hearing the words out loud I go a bit insane and try desperately not to cum. So much energy. It feels amazing.
Should I abandon this part of me that posts on Goodreads. There are two reads of it: one, I am being off-putting and repelling the very love I want through my intensity. Two, I am being myself.
Imagine how I would come across as an attractive woman.
I successfully asked X to back off! Freedom! She pushed and pushed and pushed so oblivious until I finally said ‘no it’s fine, X sorry, I just want to reach out on my own time, hope that’s alright’. She respected the boundary with politeness and warmth and I feel free and not even feeling nervous about it.
I think having one sexual partner in seven years for seventeen weeks is not how I would wish for someone to spend their late twenties and early thirties. I blame things like porn but that assumes I had options and felt safe exploring sexual relationships which I fundamentally don’t.
Porn doesn’t change that and relationships have always been toxic before porn became free and widely accessible.
I really appreciate how AL demonstrates a kind of unselfconscious freedom of expression.
I get home and start crying waiting for the lift. A comes in of all people. “Hello beautiful man.”
Feel free to flag as parts of this are outrageous.
First Anaïs though. I wanted to include more of her explicit passages but I’ve literally hit the character limit.
1939-1947
With Hugo returned the budgets, the accounts, the bills, the calculations, the sense of restrictions, the meals at home, tenderness, absence of fantasy, ennui, gloominess (he always errors in his calculations which makes our situation seem worse), talk of insurance, taxes, indulgence towards my stories, towards the smiles I gather from so many people, the forced lovemaking, the refuge from the sickness.
Becalmed. The sails no longer swollen by great winds.
I never desire him. I feel I must obey his will because he is good to me, because he has a right to me, because I want to give him what he needs as he gives me what I need. Also, I would like to find satisfaction at home. The asexual relation to Gore, which keeps me so erotically aroused, and the fact I do not desire anyone else, is hard to bear. I am filled with sensuality. So I will yield to Hugo. But my body bristles against him. I can't bear his eroticism, his preliminary caresses. I hasten his taking me because his caresses have the opposite effect they are intended to have. They make me bristle, and I want to cry out, "I don't want you!" That would break his life. I can't do it. So I will submit, close my eyes.
I think I am a little mad with feeling, with awareness, with obstacles. Create, Anaïs. Every word you wrote was always the golden key which opened the doors of your prison. The Lawrence book brought you Henry. The House of Incest Gonzalo. The Winter of Artifice John. It is your female chant for man, for the lover. Write. It is your ornament, your grace, your seduction, your chant for courting.
That is my own interest in writing, not to make a name, not to be exposed in libraries, or celebrated after death, but to create life, immediate life around me. I cannot go into new lives without my books. They are my boat and sail, my passport and map, my compass and telescope.
Success itself makes me sad because it is the story of having to prove your value, to convince, to assert. Just as I wanted to be protected without defending myself, to be loved without doubt of this love, to be treated as I treat others, and to have others see the potential me as I see their potential selves, none of this happened. I had to fight for everything, as if people in general were blind, deaf and dumb. My gratitude goes only to those who believed at first, without proof.
Anaïs, beware. Il faut savoir jouer. Il ne faut pas rêver. [...]
La petite Anaïs ne sait pas jouer.
[Anaïs, beware. One must know how to play. One must not dream. […]
Little Anaïs doesn’t know how to play.]
I can see the trees are beautiful—the vastness of the sky, the immense possibilities of love spreading out. I can see beyond fixation and obsession. How light I feel!
I found the only mature jeux possible—humour.
The great beauty of my life was that I lived out what others only talk about, or dream about, or analyze. I want to go on, living out the uncensored dream, the free unconscious.
Staff [her therapist] took the diary, and while I was uneasy, I didn't expect the remark he made. I expected a condemnation, a judgment, but not what he said: "You live in fantasy. You see things that are not there. You are inventing a world, not because of a conflict between fantasy and reality, but because of the fear of being rejected in the real world (of the father), of being inadequate."
No. Here I resisted. If what I write here is fantasy then my life itself is in danger. […] My fantasy world: Gore, the warmth I feel...unreal? The desire? The elation? Is it all unreal?
The evening of Hazel McKinley's party I met Rupert Pole, an actor who is Welsh and looks like Pinckard, but as soon as I saw his handsome face, I felt: Caution. Danger. He is probably homosexual. He spoke first, having heard I was Spanish. Ordinary remarks. We sat on the couch with a friend of his, discussing Schoenenberg, whom he had met in Hollywood. He intimated his belief of pacifism and mystical studies. Then people intervened.
I remember that as we talked we plunged deep, deep eyes into each other. The homosexual is passive, so I was surprised when I was getting ready to leave, Rupert came up and said “I would like to see you again.”
As I got up to go out with him, he embraced me. Once we began to kiss we could not separate. Desire, desire, desire, desire. His gestures are strong and romantic. Where did he learn to carry the woman to the couch? His long, long slender body. Lean. Lean and strong. His nervous, wiry, electric quality suits mine.
For ten days I thought my night with him would not be repeated.
He challenges my strength, my softness.
We never went out to dinner. We cooked here, together. He is active, capable, free. He travels on little money. He plays the guitar. He sings. He speaks Spanish. He prints to earn a living. He is healthy and beautiful and alive. […]
The children entered my womb seeking refuge and peace, and while I felt desire immediately, another part of me, the strong part, lay dormant, aroused only occasionally. But Rupert challenges this part of me. […]
He likes rhythm. His impulsiveness is a delight, his vehemence, his beauty. I suppose when I did not believe in my own beauty, I did not dare love beauty. […]
Life heals you if you allow it to flow, if you do not allow it to trap you.
Have I achieved freedom? Freedom? Freedom?
That no one should be able to destroy you, enslave you, paralyze you?
The Anaïs who writes here tonight is the same child Anaïs who could not believe in happiness. I write tonight to reassure myself that it is true and palpable. With words, I must touch this. […]
Touch, oh, touch this man of fire, who enters smiling, who throws off his coat, who is free and timeless, who comes with his guitar. We forget to make dinner, because he begins to kiss me, to kiss me, to kiss me, until we are in a frenzy. His mouth. It is he who kisses, takes, and every move is strong. […] I feel his sex against mine, the sexual act is so violent, each spurt of semen causing a tremor through his body, a somersault, and he puts me in such a frenzy that I feel as if I were not experiencing one orgasm or two, but hundreds of them. Frenzy! Frenzy! He comes twice without leaving me.
Rupert enjoys his food, enjoys his pipe, enjoys resting after dinner with his head on my breast, enjoys playing his guitar, enjoys singing.
Oh, god, he is a man, a sensual man, a romantic.
Wildly beautiful. Intense. Healthy.
I cannot believe it...
As he sits there singing warmly with color and power, playing the guitar he taught himself to play, with his beautiful face, his long, slender neck, his ruddy hands which are not delicate, but strong, the rich, warm tones of his skin, his beautiful teeth, I cannot believe it.
Has my charm brought me this?
For the first time, I allowed my joy to explode. I had been subdued, passive. I received him with effervescence, but not love, no words of love, for this is passion. How good it is to be so thoroughly caressed, to be caressed and kissed while I cook, to be caressed and kissed every moment.
He looks at Under a Glass Bell, which I finally decided to give to him, and like me, he reads one phrase and divines the rest. One phrase of my preface, and taking me in his arms, he rocks me and says: "But we need the dreamer! We need dreamers!"
After making love to exhaustion, he says, "You destroy me, you destroy me only to give birth to me again, each time a new man!"
Life again! Life!
*
2025
If you’re attracted to a woman, don’t deny that for yourself or let it drive you but rather let it nudge you to create a space for her to step into if she wants to.
T thinks I should use dating apps twice a year for a month each. R thinks I should be with someone thoughtful.
I articulated a lot to C and her friends about what I was looking for in a partner and the challenges I faced.
On what I was looking for I explained why I wanted a relationship. Regular quality time to be myself with someone. Physical intimacy. Laughter. Banal but essential.
Who I wanted was hard to say: people are complex and dynamic. It is hard to be certain about real people. But I knew what I valued. And it is interesting that I could only say three.
I started with health. I said I didn’t want a woman’s poor mental health to dominate our relationship. I was unapologetic about wanting someone who exercised. I said strength which I applied many meanings to: resilience, effort, stability. I said beauty, again unapologetically, because I had been with women I was not attracted to and it was unsustainable. But also beauty in the broader sense of the word, that which is pleasing to the senses, because I wanted to live in a beautiful home in a beautiful neighbourhood, and be in delightful spaces, even things like clutter and cleanliness.
I don’t know if I said it but I don’t think I did, but warmth. I should have said warmth. The enthusiasm of R to make plans. The ease with which to be with them.
But it was something else X told me that made me realise something. He became trapped in a relationship. He had to end it with a letter and the woman was distraught. He reminded her of her dead father. He said she was dependent on him.
I realised then that I feared being trapped.
I realised I needed the confidence to leave. I need the confidence to start and stop.
I want a woman who watches porn, who doesn’t have a fully furnished home, and who doesn’t know how to drive, or have a lot of savings. I want someone like me. So why do I apply these as conditions to myself as if I am not good enough for a relationship now?
I think what I want more than anything is equality. Equal strength, equal goals, equal effort.
What did I learn from the session with B? He thought the N situation was lovely but agreed with me that I should leave it to her to reach out and continue with my plans: both to visit Copenhagen next year, and to still try to set things up in the real world with people like X. I can still post on Goodreads, not as indirect communication with her but still with an awareness that she is reading it.
It’s been six months since my five weeks off. The note where I recorded my lessons has lost its salience but I want to record what was important.
Most of all I enjoyed the freedom of not going to work—the thing I wouldn’t do in my free time. I need to take more time off. Each day I napped and felt refreshed. The gigs, Amelie Lens and Solomon, were important experiences in dancing which made me feel vigorous and more loose and confident with my body. Mushrooms were brilliant for reflection and 2CB was odd, I’m not sure I want to do it again but I’m glad I did. A swim at the beach was beautiful, and I felt so fit going to the gym regularly. Started each day at the café was delightful and led to so many unpredictable interactions.
I loved the lazy days at home in my beautiful space, reading books and listening to music, and even writing songs. I kept my digital space relatively clean. I got my teethed fixed, I saw B, I cut and coloured my hair, and I had a delightful experience talking with X in the gallery after a long stroll.
I enjoyed chatting to X and others in the gym. Lunches and brunches and breakfasts and dinners with H and P and X, M (surprise coffee and watermelon), T, T, R, tennis with H, Christmas cocaine with P and A and C’s pals. N was a fun creative engagement that I didn’t expect to generate such strong romantic feelings which are still burning six months later.
It was nice to see others too. I was sad I didn’t get to see R who seems like just someone I see at work.
G said I looked jacked which I really appreciated and felt was true.
Hey don’t give a fuck saying hello warmly to someone like M at the gym. You would appreciate it if she did it to you, providing you are respectful. The key is not having a strategy, thinking you have to take it somewhere. The point is literally just to create a moment and not try to control its outcome.
I wake up at 4am and masturbate to the thought of N. I come, ecstatic thinking of her. I look at my phone, she has posted a photo of a vibrator, her beautiful face, and she says she sent me a drop of herself after melting in the sun.
I think M can meet a partner online but it is unlikely to happen at work due to the nature of that environment. It could happen totally randomly in a break from the usual environment. That’s how Stephen Colbert meet his parter—a random family cultural event. That’s how Conan O’Brien meet his wife—a random work remote.
Just had P and A over and they were so kind and glowing about my apartment. I really appreciated it and they made me feel like I didn’t need to do anymore but also that what I had done was beautiful and complete.
X is so good at initiating. She said ‘you’re welcome to join me’.
I want a way out of fantasising about N. Not because I don’t love her and because she doesn’t love me, but because what’s the point. I want to partner with a woman I can share something physical and beautiful with. I want to get her pregnant and be a supportive father. I’m drawn to N in part because there is no real world alternative, not that N isn’t real. It would have been different if she spoke to me normally. I’m still confused about her decision to message me obliquely and then end it with offering her number, like a last ditch effort to hold onto me even though she herself wouldn’t initiate. That was the point, she wants me to initiate, not her, even though there is no point to initiation. If she was here or I there and she didn’t have a boyfriend all I would want would be a coffee. Simple. Do I want to keep engaging with this creative writing dialogue? Maybe. I just don’t expect it to go anywhere. It’s more so an opportunity to indulge my romantic fantasy. A creative intelligent mocking caring slightly acerbic woman who wants to start a family.
There’s an element of N that is humorous and ridiculous. Silly almost. Yet tormented at the same time. Odd.
Dreamt about M from the gym. She was sitting with me and could see my iPad which kept bringing up porn. I tried to say it kept coming up when I was trying to get to a website and she reached out to have a look and then started caressing me and getting me to touch her. It was erotic and relieving. To have my sexuality accepted by a woman I desired. I really appreciate her warmth at the gym.
C comforted me about my dead plants by saying if they weren’t strong enough to survive then fuck em.
N resonates because her blog embodies an intense longing. Strange for someone in a relationship. But anyway, we don’t know each other socially. It’s more a connection based on relating to similar emotions.
N is really fun. I don’t know if it will go anywhere but I really value the creative interaction.
Sex dream about X and X. Class with them at the gym. Spilled something. Sat back down and X pulled me in and kissed me on the cheek. Happened after the night of going to HIIT at 7 wearing a singlet and feeling like I had a large chest and arms. Woke up 3am and masturbated to orgasm to the fantasy of sex with both of them. Sharing their love of each other with me.
It’s so silly how happy I am that I had a successful conversation with X at the gym.
Why do I feel like I love P? Because he hugged me and said I was part of the family after regularly inviting me around to do cocaine with his wife, kids and friends in a beautiful home and he is a well-dressed family man who cares about culture and enjoying life after a long career?
I think what I’ve realised through N is that I long to devote myself to someone I admire. Because situations in the past haven’t worked out where I have done that I have blamed devotion as an unhealthy romantic quality. It’s not. It’s about that devotion being accepted and returned. I want a woman to love my devotion and feel devoted to me in her own way, not necessarily looking like how I do it but genuine to her. I do feel devoted to N and I feel a strange devotion back from her. She wants my attention and desire. She desires me but in a way that says she will not choose me over her life or her partner which is appropriate and healthy. An interesting year.
Lately I’ve been thinking about bisexuality. It probably stems from the porn I like to watch. But I also fantasise about threesomes with B and D where D would fuck me while B would blow/suck/theres not a good word for it
I want to remove my body hair. Maybe even armpit. Men can be so beautiful.
N’s voice is still my fantasy. I find her face and body so beautiful.
Intense edging this morning thinking of N. Her black hair. Her flat chest. Her pregnant body. I precum and taste it which has become a thing lately, its sweetness. I go to shower because I don’t want to have an orgasm, I want to hold onto this energy. I keep edging. I’ve become vocal lately. I say things ‘I want to cum in N, I want to cum her pussy, I want to cum in her pregnant pussy.’ Hearing the words out loud I go a bit insane and try desperately not to cum. So much energy. It feels amazing.
Should I abandon this part of me that posts on Goodreads. There are two reads of it: one, I am being off-putting and repelling the very love I want through my intensity. Two, I am being myself.
Imagine how I would come across as an attractive woman.
I successfully asked X to back off! Freedom! She pushed and pushed and pushed so oblivious until I finally said ‘no it’s fine, X sorry, I just want to reach out on my own time, hope that’s alright’. She respected the boundary with politeness and warmth and I feel free and not even feeling nervous about it.
I think having one sexual partner in seven years for seventeen weeks is not how I would wish for someone to spend their late twenties and early thirties. I blame things like porn but that assumes I had options and felt safe exploring sexual relationships which I fundamentally don’t.
Porn doesn’t change that and relationships have always been toxic before porn became free and widely accessible.
I really appreciate how AL demonstrates a kind of unselfconscious freedom of expression.
I get home and start crying waiting for the lift. A comes in of all people. “Hello beautiful man.”
December 19, 2023
Reviewing Anis nin is a staggering task. She lived for the flesh and she would spare nothing for this goal, even if that means sleeping with her therapists, two of them in facts, cheating on her husband, having multi affairs at the same times and sleeping with minors. Her life revolves around the ups and downs of having affairs, fabricating lies, getting tired of the affairs when the highs cannot be sustained and then repeat the same thing thousands time again.
All the psychoanalysis she’s gone through, all her writing, all her reading and all her intellects cannot save her from this addictions of affairs.
While reading here, however, I was thinking what if as she was laying to everyone, she also lied to herself or us on this situation. Her style of writing imply authenticity but maybe she is not telling the whole truth about the her self and the affairs.
Furthermore, even though she was presumably having a lot of sex, there is not a lot of description about it. she is completely occupied with the sensuality to the point she is only emphasizing about being “possessed” but will not explain how the way Henry miller for example might.
Also, here is another insight about her from reading the her diaries, you can see how little respect she has for Henry Miller in this book or any of her lovers once she is no longer in love with them or how badly she is talking about her husband who was financing her other lovers without his knowledge, the way she made him this pathetic cuckold without his knowledge is just heartbreaking, and all of that is for the name of love. It just reminds me of the atrocities the United States keeps doing in the name of peace.
All the psychoanalysis she’s gone through, all her writing, all her reading and all her intellects cannot save her from this addictions of affairs.
While reading here, however, I was thinking what if as she was laying to everyone, she also lied to herself or us on this situation. Her style of writing imply authenticity but maybe she is not telling the whole truth about the her self and the affairs.
Furthermore, even though she was presumably having a lot of sex, there is not a lot of description about it. she is completely occupied with the sensuality to the point she is only emphasizing about being “possessed” but will not explain how the way Henry miller for example might.
Also, here is another insight about her from reading the her diaries, you can see how little respect she has for Henry Miller in this book or any of her lovers once she is no longer in love with them or how badly she is talking about her husband who was financing her other lovers without his knowledge, the way she made him this pathetic cuckold without his knowledge is just heartbreaking, and all of that is for the name of love. It just reminds me of the atrocities the United States keeps doing in the name of peace.
March 13, 2024
Anaïs Nin vive por nosotros todo aquello que rechazamos y deseamos secretamente, vive en el constante equívoco del adolescente que tan pregnable es corriendo un riesgo ineluctable; la exposición con el juicio del lector más dispuesto al análisis que a lo vivencial.
El valor del diario es justamente este exhibicionismo del error. La muestra a los 40 años de un yo que se emborracha de narcisismo y de belleza, persigue el capricho y lo captura en la escritura, que comete sincericidios a través de la mentira, que es estancamiento en una huida hacia adelante paradójicamente brillante y valiente, que transmuta su sintética juventud en una repetición de imágenes de dormitorio y la calle que va de la casa del amante al hogar.
De este camino hace un ritual del déjà vu amatorio que en ocasiones derrocha cierto patetismo en la búsqueda de la aceptación ajena. Su mundo resulta poco oxigenado y sin embargo, sus diarios son una joya de la que resalta su rareza y su belleza creada por y para sí misma.
El valor del diario es justamente este exhibicionismo del error. La muestra a los 40 años de un yo que se emborracha de narcisismo y de belleza, persigue el capricho y lo captura en la escritura, que comete sincericidios a través de la mentira, que es estancamiento en una huida hacia adelante paradójicamente brillante y valiente, que transmuta su sintética juventud en una repetición de imágenes de dormitorio y la calle que va de la casa del amante al hogar.
De este camino hace un ritual del déjà vu amatorio que en ocasiones derrocha cierto patetismo en la búsqueda de la aceptación ajena. Su mundo resulta poco oxigenado y sin embargo, sus diarios son una joya de la que resalta su rareza y su belleza creada por y para sí misma.
July 26, 2018
Very interesting but too much psychoanalysis- the last few sections focused on it very heavily and it was frustrating, although it seemed to help her work through some of her issues.
August 6, 2018
Absolutely fantastic, at times challenging but consistently rich with insight and truth. Not many women are brave enough to share so openly. This level of transparency is inspiring.
February 20, 2020
I love this woman's writing so much!
Read
March 7, 2022“i am swallowed by the infinite ocean of my own unconscious. i lose my grip on reality, my construction.”
May 23, 2023
Fun and sexy if you can get past all the 🍆.
November 25, 2024
Unhinged? totally and I loved it.
October 24, 2025
Having read al!most all of these it is interesting to explore the arch of subtle writing changes she has developed. Grateful for her literary contribution.
November 14, 2013
I won this on goodreads.
What's good: Personal account of a woman's life from 1939 to 1947. Anais Nin has a very descriptive and intense writing style draws you in, and has many unusual people to make her life interesting.
What's bad: Anais Nin is just not the type of person I would like to spend much time with, let alone be inside her diary. She is narcissistic and sexually oriented. If she wanted to have a husband, two long term affairs, and lots of casual flings that's fine. I just don't want to read about them.
What's good: Personal account of a woman's life from 1939 to 1947. Anais Nin has a very descriptive and intense writing style draws you in, and has many unusual people to make her life interesting.
What's bad: Anais Nin is just not the type of person I would like to spend much time with, let alone be inside her diary. She is narcissistic and sexually oriented. If she wanted to have a husband, two long term affairs, and lots of casual flings that's fine. I just don't want to read about them.
November 4, 2019
Excellent : Again an again she plays the role of creative mother, muse, lover
Painful and beautiful. Like watching the birth of a butterfly.
"We choose not randomly each other. We meet only those who already exists in our subconscious."
Sigmund Freud
Again an again she plays the role of creative mother, muse, lover - all the while taking the depth of her own and her various lovers souls.
..."strength is a rhythm, not an absolute."
"Life heals you if you allow it to flow, if you do not allow it to trap you."
Anaïs Nin, Mirages
Painful and beautiful. Like watching the birth of a butterfly.
"We choose not randomly each other. We meet only those who already exists in our subconscious."
Sigmund Freud
Again an again she plays the role of creative mother, muse, lover - all the while taking the depth of her own and her various lovers souls.
..."strength is a rhythm, not an absolute."
"Life heals you if you allow it to flow, if you do not allow it to trap you."
Anaïs Nin, Mirages
April 8, 2015
Dense stream of consciousness and should have been called the "unedited" diary. I learned some new things about Nin from this book, but the selection of what was included almost drove me mad with its run-on scenes of her isolation and self-destruction by sex. Readers are let in on the secrets that were kept hidden by her naive husband, but they all ran the same theme. Could have been much more compact and still worth the read.
August 15, 2016
Exhilarating book. You go from hell and back with her many times over as she searches for a love that seems to not exist until the very end when Rupert Pole finally enters her life. She goes through many lovers during this time, each of them giving her only fragments of the love she seeks. The ending is a happy and abrupt one, but you know there is much more to come.
Read
January 17, 2014818.5209 N714m 2013
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews