Anais Nin Books

Anais simply put was a grand master artist and her medium was words. I fell in love with her writing within the first two pages. She just lulls you, comforts you, titillates you and completely entertains you in this volume of her diaries.

Wow!! what a LOVELY review!! thanks K. for your boldness and clear audacity and intelligence! i haven't read this one yet but i will. Anais is a phenomenal being who brought to life the inner life so honestly. She should be studied as part of a way to be a better human in my oppinion...

Why???

Because it is only through deep reflection, through willing honesty that we can actually IMPROVE ourselves as human beings.... i.e. EVOLVE. She is an unending inspiration of self-acceptance and shear divulgence that can awaken our society to become more enlightened instead of hiding behind the lies of dominance birthed only by pathological insecurities.

Let us all write our own diaries so that we can see ourselves for what we are actually doing instead of hide behind pretense and the perpetuation of initimidation that keeps the secrets alive and in the shadows... out them through self-acceptance and the desire to change!

Read Anais Nin to know yourself better, even if you think you have nothing in common with what seems so outrageous. Many children are concieved in rape with their "lawful" mates... Wake up and understand humanity still further than you ever imagined!! ENJOY!!

You're generally in one of two camps when it comes to Nin. It was true when she was alive and it seems to be just as true now that she's dead. If you're in the camp that loves her, you will love this diary. Her writing is beautiful. I've read the biographies of her and I know that she had a tendency to embellish the facts or even to outright lie, but that doesn't destroy my enjoyment of her diaries in the least. If the pages contained in her journals are not an exact representation of the reality she was living (is there such a thing?) they are a representation of her life the way she wanted to see it...and really, isn't that what being an artist is all about? She gives a very clear image of a world that is completely alien to most of us; a world that many of us might like to find but have never had the courage to seek. She writes of a world full of artists and lovers and intellectual friends...a world full of life and eaters of life. It's magnificent. Truth or fiction, it doesn't matter to me.

I have read this two or three times in the past five years, and I never tire of Anais's breathless, poetic style and the amazing fluidity with which she exposes contradictory sides to her personality. This is a real diary written by a real woman, and memoirs and other published diaries seem diluted and prepackaged in comparison.

However, the sexual content here is highly charged and not for the squeamish. Only open minds need apply.

In general I find Anais Nin's work to be self-indulgent and her subject matter (largely herself) trivial. Her portraits of others are frequently lightweight and lack perceptiveness. Her Diaries are overwrought and sometimes unintentionally funny but in general aren't worth the time it takes to read them. These previously unpublished sections of her Diaries, in which Nin describes her incestuous relationship with her father, are however the most compelling segments of her writing in the whole canon.

She describes with great insight her father's character, and she sketches his physical attributes with great economy yet enables us to see the man as she saw him - frail, a hopeless narcicist and an aging dandy, yet compelling and vital despite the betrayals of his body (and his betrayals of all those who ever got close to him). Her account of her own feelings is also economical for once, and we don't have to labor through over-written descriptions of her emotional condition in order to get to the point.

While the subject matter may not be to everyone's taste, I would argue that if you have any interest in Nin's work and times, this is the book above all others that you should read.

This book was a captivating dream. I've read it over and over again and enjoy it each time.

This is a nothing book, I mean literally, this book contains NOTHING. No story. No plot. No ending. INCEST?.....there is none, there are not even any people in it.

Anais has such a command of the language found in the undercurrents of our existence. I found each page to move me more, and more deeply. Agreed, this book is not for everyone. It will at best, confuse the simple-minded. It can intoxicate, inspire, and evoke extrodinary compassion for the rest of us.

The most nearly perfect book I have ever read in my entire lifetime. It's like reading a drug: hypnotic, mesmerizing, dream-like. A prose-poem from heaven. . .

HOUSE OF INCEST is a very slim volume of 72 pages. Naturally, I expected to be done with this oddly titled book in one sitting. After reading the brief introductions, with references to the author spitting out her heart and an Indian making a flute out of the bones of his dead wife, I realized this was a book unlike any other I'd seen. I struggled to relate and to understand, but after about 10 minutes on one page, I had a headache. I put the book down, but was determined to figure out what the heck Anais Nin was talking about.

I turned to many other sources for clarification. ANAIS NIN: A BIOGRAPHY by Deirdre Bair was the first outside source. Bair explains that the main supporting character of "Sabina" is none other than June Miller, the notorious second wife of Henry Miller (who appears as "Mona" in Miller's TROPIC OF CANCER). Then I turned to ANAIS NIN READER, which contains introductory essays explaining that the incest referred to in the title is not literal but symbolic. But far, far above the rest, the most helpful was ANAIS NIN: AN INTRODUCTION by Benjamin Franklin V and Duane Schneider; I learned here that HOUSE OF INCEST is not a conventional story by any means. Rather, HOUSE OF INCEST is an exploration of the narrator's subconscious state (very few passages in this book, the two introductory pages for example, reveal the narrator's conscious state). The main theme of HOUSE OF INCEST is the relationship between the narrator and Sabina; but the narrator eventually realizes that her fascination with Sabina is merely a fascination with an aspect of herself, hence the metaphorical incest for which this volume is named. Finally, I understood this book! Finally, I enjoyed it! Now, I love it and think it's brilliant and am glad it was not so easy to get through at first.

If labyrinths, puzzles, and psychology interest you, then you may find HOUSE OF INCEST has something to offer. But a word of caution: even though the over-riding theme is not of literal incest, there is one instance where it is: "... there sat Lot with his hand upon his daughter's breast," Anais writes on page 52, "while the city burned behind them." HOUSE OF INCEST was Anais Nin's first work of fiction, published in 1936 - nearly 40 years before the publication of the famous diaries. Deirdre Bair explains that Nin was already publishing aspects of her diary as fiction, though attempting to disguise the more painful details. Bair writes that in this instance Nin was not successful.

I'm usually grateful for any new book that gets published on Anais Nin, so if you're a lover of Anais Nin's poetic world like me, you'll want to buy this book. However, I need to give you a bit of caution.

Though the book contains an excellent summary of Nin's entire lifespan, which is perhaps its real value substantively, about 80 pages worth, particularly if you're new to the work and life of Anais Nin (-- it'll save you big time on reading Deidre Bair's bitter biography of Ms. Nin, for sure--), there are 14 pages of sophomoric examination of Nin's Diary from the perspective of Thomas Mallon and his book "A Book of One's Own," a book that has the reputation of asserting no favorable opinion of Nin at all. (This should tip the reader right off that the perspective on Nin and her work that Ms. Duxler is going to offer is not going to be decidedly positive.)

Next, there are more than 40 pages of tedious regurgitation of D.W. Winnicott's theories on object relations, pages which effectively turn Nin into a massive lump of clinical symptoms, a reduction that Ms. Duxler weirdly claims is the opposite of her actual aim in wrtiting the book.

Readers who know Nin will understand, for instance, how angry Nin got when Nancy Scholar Zee attempted to examine Ms. Nin's writings with so-called scholarly techniques and objective tools only to point up Nin's "contradictions" and "lies." Ms. Duxler's psychoanalytical "procedures" are similar in that they are equally duplicitous. Ms. Duxler wields a scalpel with her clinical words on Nin's psyche and writings, an approach that Nin herself would have been appalled and angered by if she were alive today.

Finally, Ms. Duxler concludes (assuming one can follow the twisted logic of her arcane psychoanalytic jargon) that Nin was very sick in many ways and that her Diary did nothing to transform her experience or to help her. (Deirdre Bair already said as much in her condescending biography of Nin! Why do we need another backstabber?)

Ms. Duxler insincerely claims to have been a grateful girlfriend of Nin's! ("Where's the evidence, Girlfriend?") Forget the artistry of Nin's short fiction or the entrancing beauty of her novels and her poetic prose. Ms. Duxler here is too busy burying Nin's psyche and memory to realize Nin actually created beautiful works that will live for future generations to read, unlike this rather ugly book written by a so-called professional who deftly shows she has a very cold, distancing (and soul-destroying) touch.

Ms. Duxler wrote her book not to praise to Nin. This much caution should prove enough.

This book offers outstanding insights that may never have been revealed before, through her personal experiences with the subject, which also come to light thru her personal search for truth.

Doing what no other Nin biographer has done, Duxler examines Nin with compassion and uses her own personal and psychological knowledge to pull the reader deeper and deeper into her story. We are taken with Duxler on her journey to understand Nin and when we are finished, we are closer to understanding both equally courageous women. There is also a well-researched short biography of Nin, followed by a fascinating analysis on Nin's inner world.

years after her death, Anais Nin still fascinates both those who knew her and those who may never have met her, but have read her books & stories. I greatly enjoyed learning more about the woman behind the stories & books I have read. Anais Nin intrigues me, and Margot Duxler brilliantly details Nin's life and psychological make-up in this psycho-biography. I highly recommend Seduction: A Portrait of Anais Nin to anyone curious about Anais Nin the person.

I was very pleased to discover that this psychological analysis of Anais Nin's life and work is one that is thorough, sensitive, and amazingly insightful. I have frankly tired of vicious attacks on Nin. Do we disregard the work of Van Gogh because he suffered from mental illness? Do we judge Picasso and belittle his accomplishments because, as we now know, he wasn't the nicest guy to walk the planet? Then why do so many condemn Anais Nin? It was her wish that her unedited diaries, which revealed among other things her affairs and her abortion, be published. I, like many Nin fans, was stunned to discover these facts and had to adjust my thinking, but my interest was in understanding what would drive a bright, talented woman to do the things Nin did. I was disturbed by the blatant character assassination that followed the publication of HENRY AND JUNE and INCEST, usually at the hands of female critics. For these reasons I approached Ms. Duxler's book cautiously, and was very pleasantly surprised.

Unlike Deidre Bair's biography which seemed to distill Nin's life down to an ugly set of facts, SEDUCTION is mainly an analysis, one by an obviously competant psychologist, rather than a catalogue. Also unlike Bair, Duxler actually knew Nin and could call her a friend. Like many of us, Duxler was disillusioned when she discovered that her dear friend and mentor had seemingly deceived her by misrepresenting the facts of her life and feelings. But unlike the character assassins, Duxler was inspired to use her formidable skills to analyze Nin's motivations, particularly through an examination of her childhood diary (LINOTTE). The results are impressive; Duxler wades through the complex facts of a life, the subtle clues, the unsubtle behaviors, and helps the reader come to a more thorough understanding.

Anyone familiar with Nin knows she is one of THE most narcissistic authors of all time. Throughout each and every story, we get a feel each and every story HAS to relate to Nin in some way...its almost a book of staccato self-realization stories rather than pure fiction. It is almost silly at some times, all stories have the small heroine envying the larger-than-life male figure(s) and having a feeling of displacement.
I recommend this book only if you are a Nin-lover and ready for some stories that could come from nowhere but her own pen (or typewriter).

In this intoxicating collection of short stories, Anais Nin delves into the lush imagery of dreams. Her stories touch on issues we carry deep within our unconscious - ideas of ephemerality, sexual identity, experiences of childhood and many others.

Her passion for "transmutation" is evident, as she blends a dream-like hyper-reality into incisive observations of the human experience. Whether exploring human suffering, the fields of memory or the awakenings of artisitc awareness, Nin's writing uncovers new layers of meaning. Her stories seem to glow with a sublime light.

This is a slim book, but it begs several re-readings. It will draw you back, both for its excellent example of one woman's contribution to the modernist literary movement, and for its pure lyricism. Nin's imagery will haunt you long after you've turned the last page.

Anais Nin did not adhere to the traditions of story-telling. Formulaic plots, character arcs, and realistic descriptions didn't interest her. She was a master of character analysis and description -- instead of watching her characters move through the story, you, as the reader, move through the characters. This was because Nin was experimenting with a new artistic movement called surrealism and she ended up being one of its brightest stars.

Because of Edmund Wilson's favorable review (and he was, of course, the king of critics) this was the collection of stories that finally brought Nin's work to the attention of public. Her writing style is simply stunning. Imagine distilling a story, as one distills a liquid, down to the final crystals. Or creating a beautiful and poetic ritual out of something mundane (such as the Geisha's tea ceremony).

I think my personal favorites in this collection are "Ragtime," an amazing description of the poverty-stricken rag-picking community in 1930s Paris, "The Mouse," about Nin's fearful maid, and "Birth," the now notorious story about Nin's abortion. Seem like ugly topics? You'd be amazed at how beautiful Nin can render them.

It takes a sensitive reader to understand Anais Nin's writing, but if you are that, I think you will find value in these stories.

The descriptions Anias Nin uses are extremely detailed and the stories seem to be more focused on the descriptions than an actual plot. there is obviously symbolism being used to express a message through these descriptions. Almost like another subliminal story going on at the same time. The descriptions seem as if they are being used to subconsciously control the reader's emotions.

After reading all of the early journals of Anais Nin, I was very disapointed in her fiction. Her writing is thin and relies on constant metaphysical emotion to create any sense of depth. Her early journals are exceptional, possibly the best diaries ever published, however, her fiction is consistently slow, often painfully dull, and self-absorbed. In comparison to her contemporaries she is almost unreadable. Hers are among the very few books thatI have ever not finished.

Boring and poorly written. The reason I bought this one because I have been miled by reading the othere's reviews. It may be a good book for others but certainly not for me.

For me this book read like a collage of images strung together seamlessly by a multitude of characters in differing places... Places that Renate traveled to, lived in, loved in and much more... Once again, with Anais' mellifluous word usage, I felt like I was right there traveling with her - Savannah Skye...

I can't reasonably express how beautiful this book is. It was my first Nin reading and remains my favorite among her fiction. In my opinion, her prose and story in Collages is at its strongest and most moving. This work shows the heart of a poet.

This book left me speechless....a whole new mode of thinking...

THE DIARY OF ANAIS NIN: VOLUME FIVE 1947-1955 contains beautiful writing. Anais (pronounced "anna - EESE" ["EESE" as in "lease"]) has a very unique writing style, a result of her Spanish and French background, her fondest for extremes, and frequent disregard for correct grammar and punctuation.

The downside to her beautiful prose is that often it is hard to follow what she is talking about. Though I am a huge fan of Anais Nin, I always struggle with her writing, particularly these "expurgated" diaries; because they were so heavily edited they seem very choppy at times. Anais also was not in the habit of sticking to one topic per paragraph. And it is common for one paragraph to be completely unrelated to the previous. I often become so bewildered that I have to put the book down. (It also doesn't help that I was only two when Anais died in 1977, meaning I am often completely unfamiliar with the topics she discusses.)

I now use her diaries as meditations, and am content to read a passage or even paragraph at a time. It no longer bothers me that I often get lost. One paragraph, or even one sentence, often contains enough beauty to make it unimportant that I have no idea what she's talking about (many things I have understood have not been nearly as beautiful). She just had an awesome command of language! My favorite passage in Volume Five is on the very first page where she describes her time in Acapulco. It's stunning poetry! I've never seen anyone else write like this.

I would certainly agree that previous knowledge of Anais's life is helpful in appreciating her diaries and all other works. I am currently reading ANAIS NIN: A BIOGRAPHY by Deirdre Bair. Ms. Bair's book has been incredibly helpful in understanding Nin's work. I recommend Bair's biography of Nin in addition to THE DAIRY OF ANAIS NIN: VOLUME FIVE 1947-1955.

I just finished a book I didn't want to read, The Journals of Anaïs Nin: Volume Five (1947-1955). I had planned to read it, and its time came, but I just didn't feel like it. Happily, it took me about two pages to change my mind and enjoy this book in a little less than a week.

Anaïs Nin was born Angela Anais Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell in France in 1903 to composer Joaquin Nin, who was of Cuban and Spanish background, and his wife, Rosa, who was Cuban, French and Danish. After Joaquin abandoned the family, the family moved to the United States in 1914. With the disapproval of her mother, Nin began work as an artist's model to help pay the family bills, and then returned to Europe in 1923. She studied psychoanalysis under Otto Rank, practiced as a lay analyst and underwent therapy with Carl Jung for a time. Nin is also well known her for lovers, Henry Miller, Otto Rank, Gore Vidal and Edmund Wilson. She was married, I believe, twice, once to Hugh Guiler, who looked the other way regarding her affairs, and once, bigamously, to Rupert Cole.

Nin's fame these days is primarily as a diarist, and there seem to be two veins of her diaries, those she published in an expurgated form in ten volumes, which remain popular, and another five-volume series of unexpurgated journals that focus on a shorter window of time around the decade of the 1930s. This book is from the former series, and is copyrighted in 1974. I have no idea where I got it.

Nin also wrote fiction, and I've read two of her fictional works, Spy in the House of Love and Delta of Venus. I also have read a biography, Anaïs: The Erotic Life of Anaïs Nin by Noel Riley Fitch. She was a peripheral literary figure during most of her lifetime and she died in 1977.

The main focus of her work seems to be psychological realism, and as she grew older, she seemed to see her diaries as the primary outlet of that stream of thought. As she writes in a letter to Max Geismar, copied into her journal in the winter of 1954-1955, "I only need to continue my personal life, so beautiful and in full bloom, and to do my major work, which is the diary. I merely forgot for a few years what I had set out to do."

This diary focuses on various themes of her life during this time, her struggle to get Spy published (she ends up self-publishing it), her travels and time spent living in Mexico, her friendships with Geismars and Jim Herlihy, her psychoanalysis with a Dr. Inge Bogner, and a return to the focus of her work as a diarist. She includes wonderful interludes about her life in Acapulco; a return trip to Paris, which is deliciously recounted with her nostalgic expectations sometimes being born out and sometimes failing; letters to and from Henry Miller; the fruit of her work with Bogner; and the story of her last days with her mother before Rosa's death from a heart attack.

This last is touchingly told, and she follows her feelings about both her parents to see how she reclaimed their characteristics with pride once they were lost to her, the same characteristics she sought to reject in herself while her parents were living.

Nin's writing is rich, like a filling meal, so the episodic and brief passages of the expurgated journals are suitable, somewhat "bite-sized," so to speak. In many ways she is very likable, and her descriptions of her life, travels, lectures and parties (she attends a costume party for which attendees were to dress as their own madness. She went bare-breasted with a bird-cage on her head...!) are fascinating, a look at her social circle and those who influenced her.

And sometimes, I thought, "Wow! I really would not like her!" especially when she wrote about meeting a very bizarre woman in New York, Nina Gitana de la Primavera, whom Nin admired for living even less in reality than Nin herself did. From Nin's diary description, I thought, "This woman is just crazy!" but Nin and Herlihy had a brief friendship with her, even though they had at first a deep visceral negative reaction to her. Herlihy attributed this reaction to his fear that Primavera was living as he would have liked, but was too afraid to do, so they forced themselves to spend time with her.

The book ends with Nin recounting an LSD trip she experienced at the behest of a psychologist who was trying to study its effects. He wanted her to participate because as a writer, she could better articulate the experience, which is clearly drawn in the journal. She seems to come to the conclusion that the drugs merely heightened what was in her own mind, as symbols appeared real to her that she had previously used in her work.

While the book is an enjoyable interlude, there is an underlying loneliness to it, as Nin fights the sadness of being rejected for her work and her dedication to creating a reality that links intellect and emotion in a fiction that she finds truer than literary realism. " I have raged at the wall growing denser between myself and others. I do not want to be exiled, alone, cut off. I wept at being isolated, at the blockade of the publishers." I found the book very interesting and readable. I recommend it.

This volume is number five in the original series of Nin's published expurgated diaries. (As the major players in Nin's life have passed away, and libel suits have become a lessening concern, her literary executor has begun releasing additional volumes from the same time periods as the expurgated works containing previously suppressed material, which makes talking about a "series" confusing at times.) Volume Five finds Nin in America after World War II, during the era of the Feminine Mystique, living what has to have been a fairly expensive lifestyle on both coasts, plus Mexico, with no visible means of support. Knowing more of Nin's actual biography than she is willing to divulge in this volume helps in understanding this puzzle--she was married to two men at the time, one in New York, one on the West Coast.

This volume appears to have been written with more care than the 1944-47 volume, perhaps because with Nin's second marriage she was no longer spending as much time compulsively "ensorcelling" younger men. Nin dates her entries by the month or season of the year, and they appear to be written with reflection, rather than in the heat of the moment. This suggests also that the entries may have been more heavily edited, either before they were ever incorporated into the diary or later, for publication. This raises an interesting question for which there is no answer: If a diary is edited by the alteration of text, as opposed to the deletion of uninteresting or controversial matter, should it still be considered a diary? How much editing can be done before a work becomes no longer a diary but a series of essays? It depends on what the definition of "diary" is, of course, but I think there is a good argument that this volume is no longer a bad diary, as volume four was, but a fairly good series of essays.

A number of interesting events happen in Nin's outer life in this volume that are engagingly described. She goes to Mexico and describes her exotic life there quite beautifully. She copes with the death of her mother. She has an interesting literary friendship with James Leo Herlihy more than a decade before his great success as the author of the book _Midnight Cowboy_. She drops acid under laboratory conditions (in 1955!).

Nin doesn't seem as whiny about her inner life as she did in volume four of this series. Her ongoing struggles with lack of literary recognition are thus easier for at least this reader to take in stride than in volume four. Nin also appears to achieve some sort of psychological breakthough with her therapist of that period, Dr. Inge Bogner, and, as Nin describes it, achieves objectivity. Whatever it was, she seems less frantic at this juncture in her life.

Because Nin has a track record of being somewhat slippery, it is always a great temptation to read her diary volumes in tandem with her letters, biographies...and fiction. Therein lies the rub with her constant complaints about her lack of literary recognition. Although I respect her ambition to show psychoanalytic process in her characters, I just find that she mastered the diary genre much more than the fiction forms she attempted. Read Amy Bloom's and Peter Kramer's fiction, not Nin's, if you want intense psychological fiction, but do read Nin's diary.

Verdict: pretty good, but hard to appreciate fully unless you know a lot about Nin and her work.

Let's get one thing straight right off the bat, Sisters of the Extreme is a "reissue" of 1982's Shaman Woman, Mainline Lady -- cut, streamlined and reformatted beyond all recognition. Evidently, the authors took the edge off their book for a more "conservative" era -- either that, or they assume their reader's minds have been so numbed by drugs that we NEED heavy edits and People Magazine-inspired "look" to hold our limited attention.

Sure, there are a couple of new excerpts worth reading (the one from Mary Woronov's "The Mole People is revealing), but for the most part, Sisters of the Extreme seems to be pandering to old YUPPIES who need a little stimulation. I swear that if I read ANYTHING by Carrie Fisher ever again, it will be too soon -- enough of the "I went to rehab and got a bad haircut" trip. Get over it.

In the introduction, the authors do say that they edited some excerpts for space and deleted others all together. When I got out the two editions and compared them almost line for line, I discovered a disturbing trend -- whereas Shaman Woman, Mainline Lady allowed one to take the writings at face value, Sisters of the Extreme has definite agenda. Sisters of the Extreme doesn't LIKE drugs. It doesn't want ME to like drugs. It wants me to be TITILATED by the writings. The difference is clear.

Sisters of the Extreme is a product of the times. It's been dumbed down and punched up. Sure, the authors include a couple of writings on sex magick and a few counter culture cartoons, but the overall smell of political correctness is stupifying.

The gist of my review is this: if don't already own a copy of Shaman Woman, Mainline Lady, go ahead and buy Sisters of the Extreme. Then, go on a quest for the Real Thing.

In the meantime, the use bibliography in Sisters of the Extreme to find and read the original sourced writings. You'll be glad you did.

Sisters Of The Extreme is an informative and engaging presentation of famous female authors who write about the drug experience includes a variety of works from such notables as Bronte, Alcott, Di Prima, and more. Writings from historical works through modern times are gathered in Sisters Of The Extreme, a fine survey of the lives and experiences of women who have had their lives changed by drugs.

Being on the fringe of consensual reality and yet being able to take some notes of the journeys beyond, is an awesome gift. The stories in SISTERS OF THE EXTREME are such gifts of the God-Us. I have the original SHAMAN WOMAN, MAINLINE LADY and went through my contribution, line for line, and the only difference noted was my photo had shrunk in this new, revised edition. (This is consistent as now, being in my fifties, I notice that I am shrinking some also.) The tone not only is consistent from the first edition but vividly expansive. (I was somewhat embarrassed being in the first edition, with the stereotypic cover -- yet in this new volume, I am honored not only for the outrageous company kept and new sisters included but engaging graphics.)

As the God-Us dances about the universe, skirt swirling the galaxies, being on the fringes gives the wildest ride. This book is a travelogue by explorers of multi-dimensional realities written in white ink, from the heart of our Sisters-in-the-Clan-of-Encouragement: this book is a major herstoric contribution to the sext of human consciousness.

Jeannine Parvati (Baker) Author HYGIEIA: A WOMAN'S HERBAL

White Stains was a sexy and intriguing book, but after reading Delta of Venus, I expected more from Anias Nin. I was also curious, since the author is listed as Anias Nin and friends, which authors were responsible for which works. The book fell short on the oh-so-critical graphic descriptions, leaving the reader to her own imagination. If my imagination cut it, I wouldn't buy the book.

I also felt that White Stains was directed to a male audience more than a female one, which disappointed me after Delta of Venus's abiguity. White Stains was also much less daring and provocative than Nin's other work.

This is certainly a quality work of erotica, just not up to snuff compared to Nin's other sexy tales.

If you love to read the prose style of popular books in the earlier part of the 20th Century, you'll especially enjoy being in the middle of these naughty scenarios with full on sexual and hot writing, yet find it quaint and old timey all at once. Delicious! Fun! Take a bubble bath and gobble it up, page after page.

Anais Nin's erotica is legendary. I heard rumours of it long before I ever got my hands on a copy of this difficult-to-find book. When I finally did, I found myself entranced--both by her words and those of her friends, who wrote and assembled these fierce and delicate works for a private collector. This is, simply put, a beautiful book--erotic and often blunt, but never caught in the common web of sexual guilt and shame. It's a stunning work, and well worth owning.

nearer the moon is a book whic has affected my life in so many good ways. I have become a better lyricist, and a more insightful poet because of her ability to be so bold, honest, and real while being one of the greatist poets and writers of our time. Anais Nin's writting not only stands asa representation of how beautiful life is, but also stands as a bench mark in history. We can look into our past and see when her writing was rejected from culture and society, and see how far we've come. Through Anais Nin we can actully see Americas liberation process.

This unexpurgated volume of Anais Nin's diary contains entries from March 4, 1937 to October 23, 1939. The preface by Rupert Pole (her Los Angeles widower, as opposed to the late Hugh Guiler, her New York widower) notes, "Toward the end of her life Anais and I discussed the original diaries, and she asked me to publish all her diaries just as she wrote them."

Having now read four volumes of the unexpurgated diary, it is my educated opinion that this was _not_ a good idea. It is unfortunate that Pole has dutifully released this volume of material in this form. It's like he published the first draft of a book--there is so much dross among the gold that I often felt that I was not so much reading as doing penance. It is apparent now that not all the material cut from the expurgated volumes was eliminated because of its scandalousness. If we have learned anything after the sexual revolution, surely it is that even the salacious can be dull.

And yet. And yet. Amidst Nin's whiny posturing, her mechanical proclamations of audacity and innocence, nestle passages of such power and beauty (especially starting in 1938) that this volume intermittently becomes riveting. There are also a number of entries where Nin drops her self-glorifying posturing and looks at her own behavior with clear and unflinching eyes. For the first time, for example, I began to understand what she saw in Gonzalo, something that was a mystery to me even from the previous unexpurgated volumes. She becomes enormously likeable when she appears to be displaying some candor.

I regard it as truly unfortunate that this book is unlikely to have many readers owing to its lack of editorial discipline. Be patient with it, but be prepared to skim, and don't read it as an introduction to Nin's work.

Bettina Knapp's monograph on Anais Nin is helpful and interesting. I particularly appreciate the description of surrealism, as well as the history of the movement. This helped me understand Nin's HOUSE OF INCEST. But overall I'd have to say that Knapp's book should be viewed as a secondary source for interpreting Anais Nin's oeuvre. While I appreciate Knapp's positive approach to Nin (a breath of fresh air after some of the anger I've seen directed at Anais), sometimes the writing is just a bit too worshipful, a bit too much of an advocate stance. Rumor has it that Anais Nin herself even helped Knapp prepare this book, so the stance should come as no surprise. Therefore, I would recommend turning to Benjamin Franklin's ANAIS NIN: AN INTRODUCTION first, and then to Knapp's ANAIS NIN. While Franklin is definitely a fan of Anais Nin, he was not afraid to critique her work, pointing out that it was not always successful.

Andrew Michael Parodi