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3.86 AVERAGE
3.86 AVERAGE
„Ai grijă“, îmi spune Hugo, „să nu fii prinsă în capcana propriilor tale închipuiri. Aprinzi scântei
în alţii, îi încarci cu iluziile tale şi, când explodează, transformându-se în lumini, eşti absorbită.“
I felt like I was listening to an old academic wax poetic about their intricate yet boring sex life.
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
This was, overall, an interesting re-read. I enjoyed Anaïs Nin's writing style and, most of all, the way she wrote about sensuality, sexual desire, amorous feelings, love, tenderness, and her great love affair with fellow author Henry Miller (her feelings for June were also interesting to read about and empathically arousing as well, but to a much lesser extent).
However, I didn't particularly care for many other aspects of her introspective meanderings, which tended to reflect a very fragmented, often ambivalent, character (e.g., Nin contradicts herself often, or changes her mind about her own feelings within a couple of diary entries). There's nothing wrong with that as such, it's just something I couldn't relate to at all. That being said, it was interesting to follow from a purely "human psychology and its many variations" perspective.
I shared some of her opinions or feelings about certain things, and I completely disagreed with her on other points. Her musings about power dynamics in sexual relationships (mostly heterosexual but lesbian as well when it came to thinking about June and other sexually alluring women) were also a mixed bag: at times they were presented in such a way that I could engage with them and find some common ground with my personal conceptualisation of things, at others they were couched in the language of very traditional gender roles and aggression, which repulses me. And which I also find mildly amusing given Ms. Nin wasn't exactly the most traditionally feminine woman of her time, what with this imperious need she had to be an assertive artist.
The fact she also fell - if only for a while - for the absolute trashfire that is freudian psychoanalysis makes sense, but was frustrating to read through nonetheless.
Still, I'm happy I re-read this, if only for the sensual writing; the efflorescent joy and amorous intimacy I felt, by proxy, emanating from Nin and Miller's very intense and deeply felt relationship (the fact I'm going through the same thing myself probably helps there as well).
PS: since it's been mentioned here and there, no I don't think this concerns itself with "the feminist question" at all. Whether Nin ever considered herself as such is a moot point as far as I'm concerned. Her book (or diary in this case) puts forward the experience of one woman, yes, who strove towards liberation (artistic/creative and amorous liberation specifically), yes. But it's also just one person's experience of love and trying to make sense of themselves (which, hey, I can relate to being a huge introspector myself), and that's it.
And even though this is still somewhat debated by literary people (I think?), I take the position that Nin was indeed bisexual, but very repressed about it, and bogged down by the discourse of the 1930s on the matter. It's also very probable that she had a genuine preference for men too. But I don't think 100% straight women think about other women the way Nin did about June, for example. Then again, being bi myself I might be biased here.
However, I didn't particularly care for many other aspects of her introspective meanderings, which tended to reflect a very fragmented, often ambivalent, character (e.g., Nin contradicts herself often, or changes her mind about her own feelings within a couple of diary entries). There's nothing wrong with that as such, it's just something I couldn't relate to at all. That being said, it was interesting to follow from a purely "human psychology and its many variations" perspective.
I shared some of her opinions or feelings about certain things, and I completely disagreed with her on other points. Her musings about power dynamics in sexual relationships (mostly heterosexual but lesbian as well when it came to thinking about June and other sexually alluring women) were also a mixed bag: at times they were presented in such a way that I could engage with them and find some common ground with my personal conceptualisation of things, at others they were couched in the language of very traditional gender roles and aggression, which repulses me. And which I also find mildly amusing given Ms. Nin wasn't exactly the most traditionally feminine woman of her time, what with this imperious need she had to be an assertive artist.
The fact she also fell - if only for a while - for the absolute trashfire that is freudian psychoanalysis makes sense, but was frustrating to read through nonetheless.
Still, I'm happy I re-read this, if only for the sensual writing; the efflorescent joy and amorous intimacy I felt, by proxy, emanating from Nin and Miller's very intense and deeply felt relationship (the fact I'm going through the same thing myself probably helps there as well).
PS: since it's been mentioned here and there, no I don't think this concerns itself with "the feminist question" at all. Whether Nin ever considered herself as such is a moot point as far as I'm concerned. Her book (or diary in this case) puts forward the experience of one woman, yes, who strove towards liberation (artistic/creative and amorous liberation specifically), yes. But it's also just one person's experience of love and trying to make sense of themselves (which, hey, I can relate to being a huge introspector myself), and that's it.
And even though this is still somewhat debated by literary people (I think?), I take the position that Nin was indeed bisexual, but very repressed about it, and bogged down by the discourse of the 1930s on the matter. It's also very probable that she had a genuine preference for men too. But I don't think 100% straight women think about other women the way Nin did about June, for example. Then again, being bi myself I might be biased here.
This should be retitled "Journal of Lust".
Nin satisfies our voyeurism with this publication of her journal entries dating back to the 1930's and her affair with Henry Miller. She is truly incomparable when it comes to describing the desire games with her multiple lovers. Nin loves to be desired and she plays with men in such a way.
But oh damn, is she repetitive. She's the eternal teenager whose feelings have been hurt, a woman-child trying to act like a 'grande bourgeoise'. But she will never be a woman. She's the quintessential indecisive and frivolous girl that mistakes lust for love, even as she grows older. She's a surfer on the wave of desire but whom fears too much of not being loved (she hates herself when she feels anything more than lust for her lovers), fears too much on the abandonment (otherwise she would have left Hugo) and remains perplexed of her desire of birth.
As she explains it in several instances, she's stuck on the surface. Any man who loves her becomes instantly despicable and weak. And any time she falls in love, she finds herself despicable and weak. I feel like she only went half way towards her lovers and that her secrets kept her from fully embracing her nature. But at the same time, isn’t that all she wants ? She finishes another book being mildly interesting and mildly infuriating.
But that's what makes Nin beautiful also. She, while many do not have the courage to do so, documents her life and opens it. And she's a very talented writer. Nin, was the true player of her time.
Nin satisfies our voyeurism with this publication of her journal entries dating back to the 1930's and her affair with Henry Miller. She is truly incomparable when it comes to describing the desire games with her multiple lovers. Nin loves to be desired and she plays with men in such a way.
But oh damn, is she repetitive. She's the eternal teenager whose feelings have been hurt, a woman-child trying to act like a 'grande bourgeoise'. But she will never be a woman. She's the quintessential indecisive and frivolous girl that mistakes lust for love, even as she grows older. She's a surfer on the wave of desire but whom fears too much of not being loved (she hates herself when she feels anything more than lust for her lovers), fears too much on the abandonment (otherwise she would have left Hugo) and remains perplexed of her desire of birth.
As she explains it in several instances, she's stuck on the surface. Any man who loves her becomes instantly despicable and weak. And any time she falls in love, she finds herself despicable and weak. I feel like she only went half way towards her lovers and that her secrets kept her from fully embracing her nature. But at the same time, isn’t that all she wants ? She finishes another book being mildly interesting and mildly infuriating.
But that's what makes Nin beautiful also. She, while many do not have the courage to do so, documents her life and opens it. And she's a very talented writer. Nin, was the true player of her time.
Overall I loved this book, and I think it would be a great read for anyone. Her words flow like poetry and her language is often blunt and to the point. Sometimes I find it hard to believe this was written a long time ago. I can kind of relate to it. Yet, I didn't agree with most of her points of views. Somehow Anais still found a way to make me like this novel. I will read it again, and i'm glad I bought it.
The perfect companion piece to Henry Miller's Quiet Days in Clichy, with recurring characters, settings, and even some of the same events (but from another perspective, obviously). It's written excellently and I give props to Nin for making a diary so novel-like. Of course, since it is a diary, sometimes it gets a little repetitive and her descriptions/emotions become, dare I say, redundant and ridiculous. All-in-all, though, it's great and worth reading back-to-back with Quiet Days in Clichy.
emotional
slow-paced