Children Of the Albatross

Cities of the Interior #2

by Anaïs Nin

Children of the Albatross is divided into two “The Sealed Room” focuses on the dancer Djuna and a set of characters, chiefly male, who surround her; “The Café” brings together a cast of characters already familiar to Nin’s readers, but it is their meeting place that is the focal point of the story. As always, in Children of the Albatross , Nin’s writing is inseparable from her life. From Djuna’s story, told in “The Sealed Room” through hints and allusions, hazy in their details and chronology, the most important event to emerge is her father’s desertion (like Nin’s) when she was sixteen. By rejecting realistic writing for the experience and intuitions she drew from her diary, Nin was able to forge a novelistic style emphasizing free association, spontaneity, and improvisation, a technique that finds its parallel in the jazz music performed at the café where Nin’s characters meet.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Literature, Erotica, France, Novels, Romance

111 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1959

About the author

Writer 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%...

Reviews

[Elia · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is one of very few books where I can not sum up the line of thought. It's as if you had a private tour in the many narrators' minds, streams and journeys. I would definitely read other Nin books. The way she writes is just mesmerizing.

[Dario Malic · Rating 3 out of 5]

Djeca albatrosa prožeta su lako raspoznatljivim autobiografskim elementima i upravo oni čine ovo djelo zanimljivim. Ne zato što saznajemo sočne detalje iz života Anaïs Nin, već zbog njenog pristupa životu koji je bio izrazito osebujan i samim time intrigantan, a takav je posljedično i ovaj roman. Nin odbacuje klasičnu pripovjednu strukturu, nema konkretne radnje niti previše važnih događaja, a sve bitno zbiva se unutar likova. Iz tog naglaska na bogatom nutarnjem, emocionalnom i duhovnom, i nužno pomalo melankoličnom životu, kao i kontrasta s vanjskim životom druženja, zabave i bezbrižnosti, proizlazi zavodljivost ove knjige koja nas tjera da, barem nakratko, svrnemo pogled s drugih i pogledamo duboko u sebe.

[Mighty Aphrodite · Rating 4 out of 5]

I piedi di Djuna danzano a tempo, nascosti sotto una gonna dai petali delicati, che si aprono e si chiudono ad ogni movimento e che nascondono un nucleo caldo, pulsante: il nucleo del desiderio.

Un desiderio come un’onda, un’onda che travolge, devasta, domina, che cresce dal ventre e imporpora le guance, un’onda senza freni e che la stessa Djuna quasi non riesce a dominare.

Quanto fuoco brucia nascosto nel dedalo infinito dell’anima di Djuna, fatta di strade senza uscita e di camere murate, nelle quali nascondere il vero io, quello ferito a morte dall’abbandono, quello spaventato e indifeso, che rifugge l’uomo-padre per quel primo intollerabile tradimento.

Come mostrare a un mondo spaventato dalla sofferenza quella ferita ancora sanguinante? Come mostrare agli occhi chiusi sulla verità il suo tormento sempre vivo, il suo cuore spezzato da un passato che brilla ancor più del presente? Djuna, infatti, è cristallizzata in una dimensione atemporale, uno strano miscuglio di passato e presente, in cui la sua storia rivive ogni giorno su un palcoscenico invisibile, in cui ogni uomo è l’uomo – padre che ha tradito, che vuole imporsi, che approfitta del suo dolore per dominarla. Invischiata nelle trame dei ricordi, dimentica la sua forza e – in un solo breve attimo – si perde.

Ma come in un gioco di specchi, in cui la verità è anch’essa un’illusione, la voragine nel cuore di Djuna non si vede ad occhio nudo. Uno sguardo distratto coglie solo la sua calma dolcezza, la sua pazienza, la sua pelle ammantata d’oro e di bellezza. Sotto la superficie, però, la faglia si allarga, la terra trema e la donna vorrebbe poter urlare tutta la sua disperazione.

Continua a leggere qui: https://parlaredilibri.wordpress.com/...

[Adrienne · Rating 4 out of 5]

To appriciate Nin you actual have take the time absorb what you are reading. Beautifully written, this volume follows Djuna and just when you think you know all about her Nin takes you off to meet Lillian who sees Djuna in a completly different light thus throwing all you believe into a whirl.

Although the publishers encourage you to read this by flaunting it's eroticism, this volume barley hints at that side of Nins writting, it does however take you on a journey exploring mind and soul. Nin is very intuitive. This is a quality I like. So, whilst regaling us with tales about Djuna and her desire to cocoon herself in her inner child, Micheal and his seemingly unrequieted love for Donald, the wonderfully mercurial Sabine or Lillian whose insecurities and her desire to be loved make her one of Nins most likeable characters, she gives us strong insight into our own human conflicts, freedoms and desires and how our reltionships are held very tenuously together.

Nin has become a firm favourite on my shelves.

[Fiona · Rating 5 out of 5]

A coming-of-age novel but Anaïs Lin's writing is so lyrical it often blurs the boundary between poetry and prose. I could re-read passages over and over to savour her writing. One of the most uniquely female world-views I've ever read with such a strong sense of identity in the main character, Djuna. Loved it and didn't want this book to end.

[Zuby]

I had been meaning to read something by Anais Nin for a while now after looking her up after hearing about her in an episode of the Simpsons a few years ago. I got to the library and decided I wouldn't start with her most esteemed work, which interestingly enough is a collection of erotica. I randomly picked this up, and I am glad I did.

Nin is so good at describing specific, subtle emotions that arise between two people. She is really a master at this. This book in general has some of the most poetic and introspective writing I've ever read. It's heavy with metaphors and comparisons but easily understandable because of the commonness of the feelings and sensations described. This is the type of writing that occasionally had me putting the book down to contemplate what she had just written.

A big negative of this book is the lack of discernible plot, after a while I gave up trying to latch on to anything and just enjoyed the writing and the interactions. Overall I liked it though.

"to allow paralellism, but no loss of self into the other" -Idk I just really liked this line

[me_secina]

όποιος ξέρει που θα βρω τα υπόλοιπα δύο βιβλία της συλλογής, πριν τον κατάσκοπο στο σπίτι του έρωτα, να μιλήσει τώρα, αλλιώς να σωπάσει για πάντα

[Annetius · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Ξαναγυρνούσε στις εφηβικές ερήμους της δυσπιστίας για την αγάπη.

Διασχίζοντας το χιόνι, κρατώντας το μανσόν της σαν ένα αχρηστευμένο μαγικό ραβδί που δεν είχε πια τη δύναμη να δίνει ζωή στο πρόσωπο που η Τζιούνα είχε ανάγκη να υποδυθεί, ένιωθε τον εαυτό της να διασχίζει μια έρημο χιονιού.

Το κορμί της πνιγμένο στις γούνες, η καρδιά της πνιγμένη σαν τα βήματά της και η οδύνη της ζωής πνιγμένη σαν μέσα στα παχιά, πλούσια χαλιά, ενώ το νήμα της Αριάδνης που οδηγούσε παντού, δεξιά και αριστερά, σαν σκόρπιες πατημασιές μέσα στο χιόνι, τραβούσε και τέντωνε μέσα τη μνήμη της και αυτή άρχιζε να ξετυλίγει αυτό το νήμα (μεταξωτό για τις μέρες του θαύματος και βαμβακερό για το ψωμί της καθημερινής ζωής που ήταν πάντοτε λίγο μπαγιάτικο), όπως κανείς ξετυλίγει ένα καρούλι, και άκουγε το άδειο ξύλινο καρούλι να κατρακυλάει πάνω στο πάτωμα διαφορετικών σπιτιών.

Κρατώντας το μετάξι ή το βαμβάκι άρχισε να κόβει τα δάχτυλά της που μάτωναν από το πολύ ξετύλιγμα, ή μήπως ήταν το νήμα της Αριάδνης που είχε οδηγήσει σε μια πληγή;

Το νήμα γλιστρούσε τώρα ανάμεσα στα δάχτυλά της, με αίμα πάνω του, και το χιόνι δεν ήταν πια λευκό.

Πάρα πολύ το χιόνι πάνω στο καρούλι που ξετύλιγε από τις σφιχτοτυλιγμένες μνήμες. Ξετυλίγοντας χιόνι που πλάγιαζε παχύ και σκληρό γύρω στις παρυφές της εφηβείας της, γιατί ο πόθος των ανδρών δεν έβρισκε έναν μαγικό τρόπο για ν’ ανοίξει την ύπαρξή της.

Οι μόνες λέξεις που άνοιγαν την ύπαρξή της ήταν οι πνιγμένες λέξεις των ποιητών, που τόσο σπάνια εκστόμιζαν οι άνθρωποι. Μόνον αυτές τη διαπερνούσαν δίχως ν’ αφυπνίζουν τους πάνολπους αγκαθωτούς φύλακες που φρουρούσαν τις πύλες της εισόδου, θωρακισμένοι σαν ασημένιοι ακανθόχοιροι με την αρματωσιά της καχυποψίας, κι έφραζαν το δρόμο για τις μυστικές κρύπτες των σκέψεων και των συναισθημάτων της.»



«Φτιάχνουν για μένα έναν καινούριο κόσμο, ένιωσε η Τζιούνα, έναν κόσμο πιο ανάλαφρο. Είναι ίσως ένα όνειρο και μπορεί να μη μου επιτραπεί να μείνω. Μου συμπεριφέρονται σαν να’μαι δικός τους άνθρωπος, γιατί πιστεύω ό,τι πιστεύουν, επειδή νιώθω όπως αυτοί. Μισώ τον πατέρα, την εξουσία, τους ισχυρούς, τους πλούσιους, κάθε είδους τυραννία, κάθε είδους εξουσία, κάθε είδους αποκρυσταλλώσεις. Νιώθω όπως ο Λόρενς και ο Πολ: εκεί έξω βρίσκεται ένας κόσμος μεγαλύτερος, γεμάτος σκληρότητα, κινδύνους και διαφθορά, όπου ξεπουλάς τη χάρη σου, την ξεγνοιασιά σου και μπαίνεις σ’ έναν άκαμπτο κόσμο πειθαρχίας, καθήκοντος, συμβάσεων, υπολογισμών. Ένας συμπαγής αδιάφανος κόσμος δίχως φωσφορισμό. Θέλω να μείνω σ’ αυτό το δωμάτιο για πάντα, όχι με τον άντρα-πατέρα αλλά με τον άντρα-γιο, να σκαλίζω, να ζωγραφίζω, να χορεύω, να ονειρεύομαι και πάντα ν’ αρχίζω, να ξαναγεννιέμαι καθημερινά, ποτέ να μη γερνώ, γεμάτη πίστη και παρόρμηση, να μεταστρέφομαι και να αλλάζω σε κάθε πνοή του ανέμου όπως τα κινητά. Δεν αγαπώ εκείνους που έχουν πάψει να ρέουν, να πιστεύουν, να αισθάνονται. Εκείνους που δεν μπορούν πια να λιώσουν, ν’ αναγαλλιάσουν, που δεν μπορούν ν’ αφήσουν τον εαυτό τους να εξαπατηθεί, που κοροϊδεύουν την απώλεια, εκείνους που είναι δέσμιοι και παγωμένοι.»

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Με τη Αναΐς Νιν, ένιωσα ότι βρέθηκε αυτός ο κάποιος άλλος που έχει μπει μέσα στον χορό κι έχει χορέψει για σένα, έχει εκφραστεί για σένα, έχει πιάσει τα πιο λεπτεπίλεπτα νοήματα, αισθήσεις και παθήματα, έχει περιγράψει με τον πιο ποιητικό και ειλικρινή τρόπο τους βαθύτερους θαλάμους της σκέψης σου. Είναι από τα πιο ερωτικά, pure ερωτικά κείμενα, που έτυχε να διαβάσω. Ήταν ένα αισθαντικό διάβασμα και, όπως με την ποίηση νιώθω ανήμπορη να καταφύγω σε αναλυτικές και ακριβείς περιγραφές, έτσι και με αυτό το βιβλίο αδυνατώ να βρω τις σωστές λέξεις για να πω περί τίνος πρόκειται. Απλώς πρέπει να διαβαστεί. Είναι μόλις 150 σελίδες αλλά έχω τσακίσει καμιά 30αριά – καθόλου λίγο.

Είναι η αντ’ αυτού όλων των γυναικών. Νινιάστηκα πλήρως και ολοσχερώς. Τα ξαναλέμε όταν συνέλθω.

[ciel · Rating 4 out of 5]

/ djuna is lovely/ airier and opener than ladders to fire/ paris scenes reminded me of hemingway combined with clarice's heat/ lillian's re-appearance spiced things up again/ not sure about the focus on paul beyond djuna's feelings/

[Hannah · Rating 2 out of 5]

Wasn't that into this one; I think it skipped around from character to character too much for me to get attached to it, and it took me way longer to read than it should have because of that.

[Greta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Anais Nin is a woman who wrote fiction and non-fiction in Paris in the early 20th century, and yet she isn't mentioned often among the Americans in Paris around the same time. Her fiction is interesting and pleasant to read. I look forward to reading more of her work.

[Betsy · Rating 3 out of 5]

like the friends at central perk of the 1940s

[Jacob Hurley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nin was an unusual figure, perhaps to be identified with people like Goethe (discounting Faust) and Wilde who were more known for their social presence and their way of seeing the world than for any individual work. Indeed a google search of her name identifies her profession as 'diarist'. Of Spanish heritage and midway between French and American sensibilities, she was very firmly in the school of DH Lawrence, her first book a study of him and her diaries and tales filled with references ... of course Nin is more of a peer in my eye to Lawrence than an imitator, at least inasmuch as her style derives from an independently thorough study of psychoanalysis and beauty-in-the-world as did Lawrence' work. Her general theory of writing seems to have promoted A) poetic sentences, which 'transform' the world through surreal or profound metaphors, and B) genuine erotic titillation, considered fully. This book, a volume from an open-ended 'novel' that resembles more an undivided collection of short stories with recurring characters, seems to me indicative of her literary intentions: her style is very direct and elliptic, many "she felt [x]. She felt [x]. She felt [x]" paragraphs, with occasional runs of beautiful sentences (or mangled attempts thereat); her narratives are about the same, mostly featuring indeterminate sexual relations and emotional developments, occasionally peppered with hallucinatory sequences (whether from dreams or opium), rarely concluding or coming to any definitive point. To me her style seems to work best when read in short bursts, perhaps aloud or otherwise in intense personal regarding, in that sense quite poetical; if you read more than twenty pages at a time the thinness of her worldly insight and repetitive aesthetic devices become much more apparent.

She was the one who taught Henry Miller to write erotica (both on, it seems, a literary and personal level); I think of the scene in Seinfeld where Jerry recalls wooing a date by reading passages from Tropic of Cancer to her. To me, it seems that Nin's work has a similar intent, providing short bursts of intense impressionism and encouragement towards a more fluid, appreciative experience of sexuality to its readers, suggesting a personal experience less typical of literature and more typical of special social / romantic / sexual encounters. Of course, both the notoriety of Nin's personal life as well as the dubious character of many of her fans may give qualifier to the authenticity of this unique social-therapeutic literary phenomenon; but I enjoyed it all the same and perhaps so will you

[Amy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really wanted to like Anais Nin, and this is the first writing of hers that I've read. I found it very hard to follow the daydreamy fights of fancy and must confess that I sped-read most of the first half. Would rather read her lover, Henry Miller.

[Nourhan Wael · Rating 5 out of 5]

The second book in the series is just as chaotic as the first one. This book follows Djuna who spent a considerable amount of her life in an orphan asylum and got assaulted as a child. It then describes how these events shaped her life starting from her choice in lovers and friends to her philosophy in life.

After that, the writer delves into the traumas of all her lovers and friends. In the end, it goes back to Lillian and her unsatisfactory marriage to Jay who was always cheating on her and never paid attention to her needs or even to who she was as a human being.

I liked this book even more than the last one, because one of Djuna’s lovers actually loved and wanted her. It was just as intense and overwhelming (in a good way) as the first one.

“Everyone, Djuna felt, saw the dancer on light
feet but no one seized the moment when she vacillated, fell. No one perceived or shared her difficulties, the mere technical difficulties of loving, dancing, believing. When she fell, she fell alone, as she had in
adolescence.”

“When will I stop loving these airy young men
who move in a realm like the realm of the birds, always a little quicker than most human beings, always a little above, or beyond humanity, always in flight, out of some great fear of human beings, always seeking the open space, wary of enclosures, anxious for their freedom, vibrating with a multitude of alarms, always sensing danger all around them.”

“Within her the leaves did not wait for autumn,
but were torn off prematurely by unexpected sorrows. Within her, leaves did not wait for spring to sprout but bloomed in sudden hothouse exaggerations”

“To allow parallelism, but no loss of the self into the
other. To play at marriage, step by step, to read the same book together, to dance a dance of elusiveness on the rim of desire, to remain within circles of heightened lighting without touching the core that would set the circle on
fire”

“I do not love those who have ceased to flow, to believe, to feel. Those who can no longer melt, exult, who cannot let themselves be cheated, laugh at loss, those who are bound and frozen.”

“Jay upon awakening did not turn about and contemplate her even for a moment as Lillian, a particular woman, but that when he took her, or looked at her he did so gaily, anonymously, as if any woman lying there would have been equally pleasant, natural, and not Lillian among all women”

“One cannot fight alone for a living relationship. It takes the effort of two. Effort, effort. The word most foreign to Jay. He does not like effort or struggles. He wants only his pleasure”

“She was making a voyage which would forever take her away from the prison of anxiety, the pain of dependence on a human being she could not trust”

[Kubilay K · Rating 4 out of 5]

İçsel Kentler Serisi’nin ikinci durağı Albatrosun Çocukları ekmeğe, ateşe ve ışığa dair bir hikâye: Nin’in günlüklerinden harlanan üç "kadın-yangın"ın duygu sökümleri. Bedene, yıkıma ve aşkınlığa uzanan bir bilinçaltı jeolojisi yaratan Nin, çocukluğun büyülü dünyasından çıkarken kaybedilen o albatros fosforunun peşinde bir yolculuğa çıkarıyor bizi. Uzaklara değil, içe; tantanacı bir gürültüye değil, yırtıcı bir sessizliğe.

Aynaya bakınca gözyaşlarına yabancılaşan, içsel ormanında yaprakları sonbaharı beklemeksizin dökülüp duran Djuna, amberçiçeği kokulu belleğinin arka odalarında bulunmak için kayboluyor. Odalarının kapıları gece bekçisinin kirli elleri, Micheal’in şaşkın parmakları, Lawrence’in zarif bileği, Paul’un beceriksiz pembe avuçları ile çarpılıp dururken Debussy’den L’Isle Joyeuse çınlıyor kulaklarımızda. Keşfedilmekten ödü kopan, harcıâlem yaşamın sıradan yalınlıklarından irkilen, insanlara içsel şenlik ateşinin yakıtları olarak bakan, siyah pelerini sırtında tutkunun yalazlı elebaşı Sabina geceye karışırken Carmen’in taşkın ezgileri ruhumuza işliyor. Anasonlu bir içki kadar ilham veremediği yüreğine izmaritlerle kazınan, ısıtmak için yaşarken donarak ölmeye mahkum edilen, avuç içinde ufalanan bir kuru ekmek Lillian, Jay’in gölgesinde erirken de sadece ama sadece sessizlik var kulaklarda.

Nin’in sayısız metaforları burgaçlanırken nehir-roman bir senfoniye dönüşüyor. Yaylılar yüreğimize saplanan çıkışlarını doğururken içsel odalardan doğan özsu, insan ilişkilerinin yörüngelerden ve gezegen sistemlerinden oluşan evrensel yüreğinde bir gayzere dönüşüyor. Duyguların şiiri çağıldıyor, Nin mitolojiden sanata uzanan bir ilham şelalesinin köpüklü sularından yeşil bir mürekkep damıtıyor, satırlar nehri derinleştiriyor. Bu su, hiç durmuyor.

[yassie · Rating 3 out of 5]

'I am the dancer who falls, always, into traps of depression, breaking my heart and my body almost at every turn, losing my tempo and my lightness, falling out of groups, out of grace, out of perfection.'

'She failed to hear some of his words because she was following with her eyes and her feelings the contours of his lips moving as if they were moving on the surface of her skin.'

'Carmen was eating the mock orange of love: the white blossoms which she bit were like skin. Her lips had pressed around the mock-orange petals of desire.'

'Through all the mists as her body approached to greet him there was an echo of her movements within him.'

'Through this fear of loss she took longer glances at his face, and every facet of it, every gesture, every inflection of his voice thus sank deeper into her, to be stored away against future loss'

'Tears from this unbearable melting of her heart and body—a complete melting before the face of Paul, and the muted way his body spoke, the gentle way he was hungering, reaching, groping'

'When he tasted her he tasted a suffering which had borne a fragrance, a fragrance which made deeper grooves.'

'Her hands always appeared first from out of the sheets, hands without memories, wounds, weights, and these hands danced.'

[giovi · Rating 5 out of 5]

(They are making a new world for me, felt Djuna, a world of greater lightness. It is perhaps a dream and I may not be allowed to stay. They treat me as one of their own, because I believe what they believe, I feel as they do. I hate the father, authority, men of power, men of wealth, all tyranny, all authority, all crystallizations. I feel as Lawrence and Paul: outside there lies a bigger world full of cruelties, dangers and corruptions, where one sells out one's charms, one's playful-ness, and enters a rigid world of discipline, duty, contracts, accountings. A thick opaque world without phosphorescence.
I want to stay in this room forever not with man the father but with man the son, carving, painting, dancing, dreaming, and always beginning, born anew every day, never aging, full of faith and impulse, turning and changing to every wind like the mobiles. I do not love those who have ceased to flow, to believe, to feel. Those who can no longer melt, exult, who cannot let themselves be cheated, laugh at loss, those who are bound and frozen.)

[Serene Chang · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't think Ladders to Fire should be read just on its own because it's so much of a set up to Children of the Albatross. This one is also independently strong though. Begins with Djuna being molded (in the worst way) by her ballet instructor and is basically about how your childhood world continues in adulthood. I like how she adds in that all these ideas are simple "like a leaf," "such simple fears behind the elaborate constructions of art," and moves through the simple and abstract in a way that makes perfect sense. It's a reminder to maintain childlike wonder and an otherworldly presence which is what actually fosters connection, to "belong to your dream."

The main quote: "the mothers who kiss them are eating light. There is a phosphorescence which comes from the magic world of childhood. Where does this illumination go later? Is it the substance of faith which shines from their bodies like phosphorescence from the albatross, and what kills it?"

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

Com els albatros que han d'agafar embranzida perquè l'aire corri per sota les seves ales i així poder volar, les protagonistes d'aquests dos relats han d'agafar forces per poder emprendre el vol majestuós de les seves vides.
El primer relat, L'habitació cega, té per protagonista a la Djuna i la seva relació amorosa amb un menor. Història amb molta força, els sentiments enfrontats molt ben explicats i una sensualitat que batega per sota de les línies de text, molt treballada.
El segon relat, El cafè, no m'ha acabat de convèncer, tot i que ens permet retrobar-nos amb les protagonistes de la pentalogia de les Ciutats interiors —la Djuna, la Sabina i la Lillian—. Les veiem evolucionar cap a unes noves fites que ens seran explicades en la resta de novel·les.
Com sempre, Anaïs Nin, no deixa indiferent.

[S · Rating 5 out of 5]

A friend suggested that I read Anais. So I did. And. I am in love with her writing. Her thoughts: the independence. The sensuality. The depth. The connection. I read the words again and again. Went back to my favourite passages and savoured them.
"They persisted in living on familiar terms only with the surface of their personalities, and what she reached lay deeper where they could not see it."
"She had always liked objects without solidity. The solid ones bound her to permanency. She had never wanted a solid house, enduring furniture. All these were traps. Then you belonged to them forever."

[Alice · Rating 3 out of 5]

I appreciate what Nin is trying to do here, with her mix of characters. However, it is easy to lose track of who is who. She also burns to the ground the old adage regarding staying OUT of character’s heads. This whole book is one of feeling, showing with the minimum of telling. In addition, her standard form of over-wrought imagery is at play here; as is the 3-synonyms-per-metaphor. I have not read yet the others in this series, but I hope that they are better. It is also uncomfortable to read, in 2025, detailed intimate scenes between a runaway 17-year-old and a woman of 40, including taking his virginity; etc. Of its time, but does not translate all that well to nowadays.

[Mellon Collie · Rating 2 out of 5]

No se si ponerle una estrella más. La verdad arrancó bastante bien, creo que es un libro que de adolescente me hubiera fascinado pero ahora me parece excesivo en sobreanálisis y en pasiones irrefrenables.
Pasando la mitad empieza a cansar porque básicamente no pasa nada, todo es una especie de auto-psicoanálisis de los personajes.
Me perdí en la cantidad de analogías y metáforas, alguna muy lindas e inteligentes pero tanto y todo junto fue demasiado. Le falta desarrollo de la acción o le sobra descripción de las personalidades de los personajes.

[Meg · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was the first book of Nin's that I have read and it was so beautifully poetic that I found myself quite mesmerized by it. The way in which Nin writes about intimacy is iconic in my eyes. The vivid descriptions capture the elements of a love affair that are much deeper than the physical realm. The whole book is a playground for psychoanalysis too, which made it extremely interesting to read. I read half the book before bed and ended up waking hours earlier than normal with the dire need to keep reading.

[DonutKnow · Rating 3 out of 5]

I feel like this book was a step up from the last one, perhaps due to the fact I was already introduced to the characters and I can see their growth in the second book.

Everyone's a little messed up inside, which I find poignantly realistic. However, I must say that sometimes I don't understand the winding descriptions or the references that are made; but I guess its fine because I just skip over them and continue on with the story.

[Eulalia]

Per entendre aquest llibre, com, suposo, tots els d’Anaïs Nin, has de coneixer una mica la història de la seva vida (bastant moguda en tots els sentits, per cert) : entens l’anàlisi psicològic que fa dels personatges. Aquest llibre son 2 relats: el primer, al meu entendre s’entén millor, està més lligat tot; es centra en un únic personatge. El segon, és una mescla de personatges i salta amb facilitat de l’un a l’altre.
Anaïs Nin va néixer a França, al 1903, però va viure a diferents països. Pare pianista/compositor que va abandonar la família quan Anaïs Nin tenia 11 anys: d’aquí l’anàlisi psicològic dels personatges dels seus llibres i el voler entendre el perquè dels comportaments. Amb el anys, Anaïs Nin es va retrobar amb el seu pare Joaquin Nin.

[[ashes] · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nin’s talent with describing feelings and scenes is impeccable. Both eloquent and heartfelt, she portrays her characters with a care for them and their inner worlds. Furthermore, the way Nin uses her leitmotifs (such as the bodies of water and Dutch painting style) puts the reader in a certain mood.

[Adair S · Rating 4 out of 5]

The subtlety and complexity which with Nin writes is superb. She winds her way into emotional worlds in ways that can appear opaque at first, though are expansive when you sink into them and understand that the words are often more evocative than literal.

[Stella · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderfully poetic and invocative. There's hardly any traditional storyline to it, so I needed to really focus on it to enjoy it. It's not something to read on the side - you can't read small bits and pieces. But if you take the time, it envelopes you.

[Mary Ana · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dreamlike quality, not limited by plot or even a desire for completeness. The magic is in the incomplete, in what is flowing, ever-changing. Transmutation. What a mesmerizing book, enjoyed it even more than the first.


Symphony in D minor - Franck