Anais Nin Books

Anais Nin here begins her series of beautiful, thought-provoking diaries. The seeds of her long journey of self-discovery begin here. Although the reader will not encounter the germination until much later, a look at the path Nin set out for herself provides interesting insights into human behavior, the nature of international relationships and challenging perceptions. Whatever your personal opinion of Nin's life might be, hers is a story well worth reading--if only for the beautiful manner in which she constructs it.

A wonderfully written, highly poetic book. It leaves the reader wanting more. Each story is a perfect little world full of beguiling characters. Anais Nin travels the world of Eros and leaves no territory uncharted. You'll love it, trust me!

Evocative, dreamlike portrayal of woman and soul. Much substance, deeply layered. Imagery is gritty, beautiful, real, and stylish simultaneously. Everything is described until you feel dreams are tanglible. Bless you Anais!!

How confusing it is separate Anais' life from her books--or is that the worst one could do to her? The sticking point to a critical understanding of Anais Nin has always been the (incestuous?!) relationship between life and art, diary and fiction. Its especially confusing now that all the truths (or half of them?) are revealed bit by bit in the "unexpurgated" diaries. Is Anais a bigamist? A nymphomaniac? A compulsive liar? Can't she be, and a genius, too? This book has been critical to helping me get my head together about Anais Nin, one of the late twentieth century's most important novelists.

Anais has done it again. A book which captures the reader's need for sensual, lyrical description as well as having the ability to allow common emotional themes to transcend the two covers, Nin paints for us the city of Golconda, Mexico, with its poor but happy natives and sweltering tropical escapism. The main character, Lillian, is a jazz musician who travels to Golconda for a 3 month stint and along the way rediscovers the beauty of Mexico she knew as a child, of the wise and natural existance known to those she meets, and the demons she must exercise from her own past. A beautiful exploration into human existance. If you liked Anais' diaries, try this story...you will see links into her own past. And perhaps, even yours.

Granted, Anais Nin, having spent her life veiling and concealing truths, is a most difficult individual to research. This fact, however, offers no excuse for the writing style of this book. The use of the present tense serves to obscure the meaning of references to the present day. In the text, does "today," mean the year being discussed, or the year of writing? In additon, Fitch mercilessly peppers a paragraph with names, only to use an imprecise pronoun in attributing a quotation. Who was it that said that again? Random comparasions to other writers, (i.e. anne Sexton) spring up in one sentence, neither led up to nor substantiated. Bare facts are laid down side by side with purple prose and phrasal flights of fantasy.
In short, the self-consciousness, name-dropping, and obscuring of facts makes this book only slightly less obsfucating than the writing of Nin herself.

I have to agree with some of the other reviews here that Fitch's work can be cumbersome at times. It is a little confusing in spots, mostly due to the tricky present-tense and Fitch's tendency to make giant, intuitive leaps from one reference to another. I do not, however, feel that this detracts one bit from the subject matter.

I can't imagine another biography addressing Nin's complicated life and neurosis with the same unflinching honesty and compassion. Nin was an extremely complex woman who spent most of her time and energy trying to compartmentalize her life, then painfully pushing against the boundries of those compartments with her life and work. Fitch pulls from multiple sources to draw a more cohesive picture of Nin's life than Anais herself ever did. Though that's rather the point, isn't it? The original published diaries are now understood to be a construct of Nin's talented metaphorical writing: true in a sense, but bearing little resemblence to hard facts. One doesn't read Nin's rich, feminine, lyrical prose for an accurate histoical record. And although it's difficult to be accurate about history under the best of circumstances, Fitch does a fine job piecing together the available clues not only for an accurate timeline, but for some kind of insight into Anais Nin's motivations.

Overall, Fitch portrayed Nin without prejudice, balancing the horrors of childhood abuse and neglect against the adult Nin's conscious betrayals of lovers and friends. Ultimately, she shows Nin to be a very flawed, very passionate artist without excuses. She neither condemns Nin, nor places her on a pedastal. I prefer this way... it's like seeing Nin through the eyes of a true friend;one that loves her for who she was, with no excuses.

If you are fascinated by Anais Nin's diaries, you will find this biography even jucier! Fitch uncovers all in a way that further illuminates what was behind the woman who once said, "Erotica is like a veil."
After reading this book, I felt I'd witnessed Nin in a way no one could have by just knowing her. To me, this is what biographies are all about. It made me see Nin in a new way, and allowed me to finally see what drove her mysterious behavior, talent, obsessions, and extreme privacy. In fact, this book made me more interested in biographies than reading diaries.
If you like this, you might also try the biography of Clara Bow, "Runnin' Wild," as well as the biography of Katherine Ann Porter.

I've read several biographies of 20th century female writers, and this was the worst.

This was a frustrating read because the biographer seemed to dislike Nin, and I felt that Fitch somehow blamed her poor biographical work on Nin's so-called "double life." Fitch reacts to Nin's life as if it were far more pathological and complicated than any other artist a biographer ever had to deal with.

Fitch's telling of events is confusing. The story goes back and forth between decades, enemies, versions of what may or may not be truth- it's a mess. It goes on for pages mentioning this lover and that lover, and then there's little more than a tiny paragraph about a major career step Nin achieves, but little, if any credit, is given to Nin for her work and effort. Fitch never misses an opportunity to explain why Nin was not talented, not a true artist, not a good wife, not a true Parisian, not a true American, not a good daughter, and just does not deserve to be known, appreciated, published or even remotely liked.

The only redeeming point that Fitch can be proud of is sort of investigating a possibly incestuous relationship Nin experienced with her father. Even this uncovering is a half-baked attempt at taking a feminist point of view about sexual abuse and female artists and popularizing it into something salacious and one dimensional. Fitch's inclusion of this relatively new information about Nin is a transparent attempt at making this biography seem scholarly. Biographers who have delved into the lives of Anne Sexton, and other writers who may have been sexually abused should be offended by Fitch's treatment of this information.

Despite the fact that Nin helped and nurtured many artists, this book is full of catty swipes from several of those people. Robert de Niro's mother (a student who typed for Nin), for example, may well have meant her comments to be neutral, but hers and several others comments read as a mid-20th century, Greenwich Village, literary scene "Mean Girls." Gore Vidal is often quoted, without any mention to the fact that Nin helped his early career or even the slightest admission by the biographer that Vidal himself is one of the tallest tale-tellers and self-aggrandizers in American literature. Vidal's agenda was never noted. Fitch does not seem to try to balance them out with a different point of view or interpretation for the reader to try and understand why or what would make some so hateful of Nin. If you read this book, it seems you must blindly accept that Nin had overwhelmingly bad traits, and few, if any, good, or even neutral ones.

I learned nothing about Nin's true philosophy and ideas. Nin's explanations are even filtered through comments and actions by those who clearly dislike her.

What Fitch cannot account for is why Nin became so popular and beloved, yet the biographer does admit Nin had a following. There is no social context, no cultural context, nor objectivity to this biography.

This badly researched and poorly written bio left me with one thought: I must try to find a good, objective biography about Anais Nin.

This book is a thoroughly delicious read for the Nin fan. Noel Riley Fitch's fine scholarship, deft analysis, and solid writing make vivid what is surely one of the most fascinating lives of the 20th century. As the title indicates, this books focuses on Nin's love/sex life, but it uses all available diaries and fictional works to piece together what can sometimes be a real puzzle. And, unlike the biography by Deirdre Bair, Ms. Fitch has an obvious affection, admiration, and appreciation for Nin which does not compromise the objectivity of her analysis.

The one possible problem in Fitch's analysis is that she makes the presumption that Nin was physically violated by her father. There is no doubt whatsoever that Nin was emotionally abused by the man, but Fitch is the first to suggest actual sexual molestation. Though she makes an excellent case for this possibility, her daring thesis caused a bit of an uproar amongst Nin's family and close friends who believe Fitch played fast and loose with the facts. I can understand their concern; it is a serious thing to accuse someone of such a crime. Still, Fitch's argument is so compelling that I don't believe it can be easily overlooked.

For anyone interested in understanding Anais Nin, this book posits a provocative theory while also pulling together the facts of her life.

This is a profound novel about a young but definitely a woman's life.

This is an autobiographical novel about a woman who meets a man on a boat in Paris to do it. They do it a lot and often. Then his wife finds out, and it ends in despair, with some very silly symbolism thrown in about sinking boats while on their boat. I can't say that I got much of anything out of this book, but as far as it went it wasn't too bad. What she is trying to do is portray her affair as a good rather than a dishonorable or bad thing. The execution of it is just mediocre. I do not think Nin is a distinguished writer, either in style or insight.

Not recommended.

But basically, the book is slight and forgettable. Except in Collages, Nin never really managed to put together a book that approached her diaries as literature. I read this as a follow-up to reading the Bair biography, and that kept me interested through the book itself.

I loved it. Sometimes it seemed to drag on about nothing. But it dragged on beautifully I must say. It was the first Nin book I read and now I am on a binge. I loved her use of language and I related a lot to this book. It made me do some serious thinking.

This book has got me hooked and now I've started in on another of her books. It was written in a flowing beautiful manner and it went into great character depth. I think I know more about Djuna then any other fictional character.

While Nalbantian has veiled it in "neutral" academic prose and by using the particular cases of a few famous writers, her argument is just another example of memoir-hating. While I think it's an interesting exercise to try to trace author experience through fiction, doing so in a way that bashes an entire other category of writing should certainly make us suspicious. And while I agree that many readers are obsessed with memoir for all the wrong reasons, there are memoirists who do more than regurgitate facts, who actually write in literarily complex ways. The search for a pithy, simple thesis has unfortunately led S.N. astray in what might otherwise have been very interesting work.

The constant edification of authors reaches a sickening degree when their lives are marched out like so much cannon fodder. Are they interesting people? Undoubtedly. Worthy of print? Surely. Worthy of endless reams of print that never stops? You get the idea

Aesthetic Autobiography is a fascinating study of the transmutation of life fact into fiction. Nalbantian's basic premise is that one's fictionalization of one's own life reveals more about an individual than an individual's earnest attempt at self documentation by way of a "memoir." The first chapter is an analysis of autobiography proper; in the second chapter Nalbantian introduces theories of "aesthetic autobiography," and in the subsequent chapters she relates her model of a shared aesthetics to the giants of twentieth-century autobiography. For example, writers of aesthetic autobiography share a concentration on a place, a childhood memory, and a beloved family member. In additon, they each utilize a concrete element as an anchor in time. It is a very creative work, and any individual interested in the creative process, the transmuation of life fact into fiction, will find this study essential and illuminating.

I picked up this book for the title essay. Since she is "famous," I assumed the author would be a good writer. I can't believe the low quality of these essays. The title essay has no content--it is nothing that goes nowhere, written in prose that nobody would want to read. Her work is assertive rather than analytic, speculative, or highly descriptive. The only interest it has is political.

There is no simple way to explain the meaning of human relationships. Anyone who believes that our socialization as human beings can be easily understood should read 'In Favor of the Sensitive Man'.

The twenty seven pieces included cover Nin's main interest: feminine sexuality, human relationships, and eroticism. The book is divided into 3 sections: Women and Men, "Writing, Music, and Films", Enchanted Places. A book as intelligent as this about human interaction had to written by a someone with a background in psychology and a keen inner awareness.

Anais Nin (1903-1977) was born in France. She began to keep a journal of her life in 1914, when her father, composer Joaquin Nin abandon the family. These journals were published in 1966 and lifted Nin from obscurity into the celebrity. Nin studied psychoanalysis under Otto Rank and practiced as a therapist in New York. At some point, she was even a patient of Carl Jung.

As Nin writes, there are books which we read early in life, which sink into our consciouness. I read the famous Nin "dairies" in my teens. I am convinced that Anais' is a brilliant woman and a gifted writer. This book is a confirmation of those beliefs.

The book is divided into essay on 3 topics: Women and Men; Writing, Music and Films; and Enchanted Places. This is a very developed sense of Anais - open, radiant, and sincere as always. There are several distinct themes throughout the collection. One of these themes, and to her, the most important, is that women (and men) must first come to know themselves intimately and erotically before they can successfully contribute to any other person, group, society, or otherwise. "In denying the need of intimacy with ourselves, our extroverted culture destroys the possibility of intimacy with others." Nin openly discusses her knowledge of feminism and the roles women have traditionally held in dealing with themselves. She also voices in several essays, her opposition to women's "listing of griefs against men." She emphasizes the rebuilding of the self through poetry and eroticism. "Eroticism is one of the basic means of self-knowledge, as indispensible as poetry."

The book is full of discussion of feminism, eroticism, psychology of the self, our roles in relationships, art, and society. There are 2 fascinating interviews with Nin, several of Nin's essays on other writiers and filmmakers, and her magical recreations of enchanted places. It is a must read for Anais Nin fans. It's short, it's sweet (I couldn't put it down), and intellectually, but most importantly, emotionally fulfilling.

Well, it's very hard to decide what exactly to say about this extraordinarily comprehensive book. I do agree that the sarcasm towards the subject was a bit intense sometimes. Generally, biographers should be a bit more objective. However, since I have read Bair's biography on Simone de Beauvoir (which was indeed an exercise in objectivity) I can only conclude that what Bair found out in her research about Anais was so distasteful that she could simply not hide her contempt.

I personally have not read the diaries (I will begin tomorrow) so this is my first and only glimpse into the intensely complicated, tragicomic life that is Anais Nin. While she is, to be sure, a literary genius of sorts, she is also a maddeningly self centered, immature, spoiled, manipulative sometimes downright evil woman with a hefty does of a victim complex. It is truly difficult to come away from this book with any sort of sympathy for the Anais altogether. It is true that the biography (hence the 4 stars) does not delve any deeper into her myriad of neuroses, or even begin to expunge on why in gods name she would continue to fund all those idiotic mens lives and then bitch about it constantly. She not only constantly took advantage of others (Hugo), but also let herself be taken advantage of, only to try and pass herself off as some sort of saint, when all she really was, was downright stupid and gullible.

In any case, before I make any real and final judgements, I will read the Diaries, however, I dont expect my opinion to change much. What really troubles me is that Anais (she does have beautiful, elegant, inspiring prose I will admit) is held up as some sort of feminist icon, when in reality, she could not be farther from anyone I would want myself or any woman to hold in high esteem.

one thing i would have also have liked to see Bair delve deeper into would be the struggle Anais endured, recognized and articulated when it came to being a woman writer in a mans world. I would say it is somewhat a study in irony, the fact that Anais led anything but a feminist life, yet realized the unfairness when it came to woman artists and how they were demeaned and put down but the literary world in general.

In conclusion I will say that Anais literary contributions -which are vast- should in no way be judged or lessed by any aspect concerning her less than savory personal life, because god knows men are not held by by those standards. henry miller being a perfect example.

Bair's hardcore feminism only occasionally gets the best of her here, I believe. She does spend a good deal of this book making her subject out to be a deluded, dishonest, self-centered person, but I have little doubt that's what Anais Nin was. She was also talented, intelligent, generous, and had lots of other good qualities. No person is a saint, and that's what Bair exposes. Her research is solid (in my view) and her view of Nin is clear-eyed. There isn't much more you can ask from a biography, except for good writing, and that exists here as well. After I read this I reread a lot of Nin's diary, and I was impressed by the multi-angled perspective the biography had helped me to acquire. None of the pleasure I take in Nin's writing was dulled by Bair's analysis. The question of Nin as feminist is one that I think Bair has an OK handle on, as well, far more so than most modern feminists (but still not wholly correct).

If you are too dreamy about Nin, you won't like this, but if you want to delve into her as a real person, a human being, beyond the self-centered perspective intrinsically inherent in her diary, this is a terrific place to start.

Like many young adults I was fascinated and inspired by Nin's Diaries when I read them in the seventies. Lately I've been rereading them along with Bair's biography. I was aware that Nin's life was more complex and checkered than what she described, so I came to Bair's book for a more objective account. I think Bair succeeds and without the venom some reviewers here ascribe to this work.

As to the deeper understandings of what really made Nin tick, Bair speculates at times, but the mystery largely remains. However, I find this typical of biographies.

I can understand why people find this biography alienating. Deidre Bair certainly sheds no tears for Anais Nin; her tone is cool and detached at best. There is nothing inherently wrong with this detachment; in fact, coolness is infinitely preferable to heroine-worship and gushing, and I think Bair must have wanted her book to work as a sane, clear-eyed counterpoint to the self-mythology and pop phenomenon of Anais Nin, as well as counterpoint to the rhapsodic narcissism and half-truths that permeate her diaries.
Nonetheless, Bair's detachment occasionally spills over into open dislike of Nin; sentences prickle with moral judgment, ironic rebuke. It is always starkly noticeable when this happens because of Bair's otherwise crisp, self-effacing restraint. The Nin that emerges here is at best a spoilt, manipulative, vain and egocentric little child in need of a good slap across the face; at worst, she's a monster capable of inhuman callousness and indifference. This image is derived partly from fact, true; but there is no objective organization of facts, and these facts are largely unmitigated by humour or any attempt to probe Nin's deeper psychology. All Nin's acts are attributed to base motives - she's a narcissist, she's selfish, she's a manipulator. I've no doubt Nin WAS guilty of all these charges; but in writing the story of a woman like Anais Nin, so fascinated with human psychology and with the possibilites of life beyond moral demarcations, it is the duty of her biographer to probe deeper, to look beyond, even if they do not absolve Nin of her crimes.
As a result, Nin does not really emerge in this pages; it seems like an shopping list of her follies and cruelties rather than a exploration. Bair seems to have little affinity with Nin, and you begin to wonder why she's writing the book at all; obviously, it's not essential a biographer adores their subject (it's probably better they possess a healthy skepticism); but Bair does not even esteem Nin as much of an artist.
So you begin to feel guilty about reading this book. It seems hypocritical, to condemn Nin while enjoying a salacious tour of her very colourful life. It makes Bair seem simultaneously judgmental and scurrilous, an untenable position. Nevertheless, Bair does possess one great virtue as a biographer: she's self-effacing. Her writing and personality does not intrude excessively, except in occasional moments of moral censure; and Nin's life was so full of incident and glamour that you're propelled from page to page regardless. It's great to have the biographical facts of Nin's life as a means of decoding her diaries to some extent, which are so full of self-myth and hyperbole that it can feel like wading through the raptures of a schoolgirl's mind. I think Bair was afraid to engage fully with Nin, believing critical distance was the way of giving this inevitably salacious biography (anything about Nin is inevitably salacious) a sense of validity and rectitude. She shouldn't have bothered with this pretence of scholarly dignity; she should've just admitted that her - and our - interest in Nin is voyeurism and titillation, love of her extremes and her glamour and her erotic knowledge, and that she's our heroine, not our object of revulsion. Anyone who picks up this biography wants to identify with Nin to some extent - this does not mean unqualified endorsement of everything she did.
Bair should let her imagination roam a bit - or else she should stick to subjects like de Beauvoir and Beckett, whose stature and gravity no one is going to dispute.

This biography is a thorough catalogue of facts about the life of a complicated woman, but you can warm your hands off the hatred that emanates from its pages. Why write a book about a subject you do not like? I am also offended by Bair's announcement that Nin is a "minor" writer. Who decides these things? (Let it be known that for decades F. Scott Fitzgerald was also considered a "minor" writer by the critics of the day. A few decades later, they'd changed their minds.)

Anais Nin is not for everyone. If you don't like Anais Nin and need more facts to back your views, check out this book. If you like Nin, or are interested in learning about her, there are other, more discerning, means.