This book took me (what?) three months to finish? Maybe more? It all muddled together in one mess of hot emotionsHoly. Crap. For lack of better words.
This book took me (what?) three months to finish? Maybe more? It all muddled together in one mess of hot emotions...and after having finished it just a moment ago, the only time between being me turning on the computer in a flustered rush and logging in. And I'm shocked I finished it even that quickly. I felt possessed in reading this, dominated and entirely taken over in Anaïs Nin and her life...a life which is certainly unlike others, to say the least.
Throughout this diary Anaïs Nin had three lovers and one husband (four lovers if you'd like to include June.) Yes, all at the same time. And while it mainly focuses on her violent and all-consuming relationship with Henry Miller, it also revolves around her fleeting love with her own husband, her experimental one with her psychologist, angry and often passionless escape of Eduardo, and her deep, connecting feelings to Henry's very own June. It reaches levels of intensity in her honesty of feelings and her own quickly shaping moods that I felt almost sickened while reading it...sick, hungry, desirous, and very much turning into a little Nin myself.
I had first become interested in this diary after becoming an ardent D.H. Lawrence fan and reading a bit of Henry Miller as well, admiring and marveling at his crude genius. When I learned of Anaïs Nin, I was at once excited at the thought of it. D.H. Lawrence greatly affected her as well as Henry Miller, and I could picture in my head the three of them, sitting in a close circle, enveloped in intimacy, speaking in hushed whispers of things us mortal minds could never fathom, but they so easily and brilliantly took on. They are sexual creatures like none other, each so different, and yet so similar that I feel one can only truly respect this diary if you have read, experienced, and loved all three of their writings.
Throughout reading this, I would often fling it away, pressing my hands to my temples, and cry out to whoever was near me to hear it: "I can't take this anymore...I'm quitting, I'm putting the book down. Yes, forever this time. She's crazy, she's mad. They all are--I can't do it..."
And moments later, I would be seen away, painfully reading through this, as though I wanted nothing more than to be at peace, relieved and finished. Though once I did finish, I wanted nothing more than to be in her world once more...to let her poetry sink into me like a nightmare and sweet dream all at once. She is not for everyone--I find that very, very few could appreciate her. And I'll say the same for Henry Miller and D.H. Lawrence, but I personally feel a certain liberation, an excitement and oozing feeling bordering on insanity upon reading from them. And that's what you're supposed to get from them--you're supposed to melt, drown with their own feeling, and thus creating your own. It's not enjoyable, it's not easy, and if you're willing to let yourself run wild into their world, then by all means...I beg of you, for from now and forever, I shall answer the question of "Whose your favorite writer?" with the certain answer of, "Lawrence, Nin, and Miller." ...more
One restless and unproductive afternoon I sat thinking of writers, of books and of something new to read. I didn't just want something on my 'to-read'One restless and unproductive afternoon I sat thinking of writers, of books and of something new to read. I didn't just want something on my 'to-read' list that I finally pull out. No, I wanted something utterly fresh, different, something I would remember whether for good or for bad. This book became Little Birds...
I would never have picked a book like this and thought it to be something good, if I hadn't have learned about her as a person, so in that way, I picked up the book for the writer, and not for the work. How couldn't I, when I found out she had greatly defended my favorite writer, D.H. Lawrence, as well as was lover to Henry Miller, whose Tropic of Cancer I'm still plodding through.
I was expecting something intense; some poetic, flowing writing, some dazzling sense and mood of sensuality; a gush of literary wisdom, though scandalous and provocative, alive and strong nevertheless...What I didn't expect was simple-erotica, and this was all I got. I got no feeling, no excitement, and emotion reading this, I merely felt empty and restless, knowing each short story I read she could have knocked down in ten minutes. Does this mean I hated it, or I hate Anaïs Nin? I don't, and I'm still intrigued and may pick up another book of hers, but sorely disappointing? Yes, it was. ...more
I find my attention slipping as I try to write this review. The Rainbow is not a book which can be easily described. Its plot is thin, nearly non-exisI find my attention slipping as I try to write this review. The Rainbow is not a book which can be easily described. Its plot is thin, nearly non-existent, and its filled with a maddening depth and symbolism that cannot be worded by anyone but the genius himself, D.H. Lawrence. The moment I began this book, it was as though I was swept into another world, and not the way other engaging books can grip your attention and steal your life away. For, you see, The Rainbow is not a fun read, and its not an interesting read. I'll be honest. It isn't. Its a difficult, tedious, overwhelming piece of art in which the reader is attacked with the coldly passionate, haunting brilliance of D.H. Lawrence. In order to read and appreciate this book, you need to be able to understand that this isn't a novel you will have fun reading. Its a novel that should be read in a sort of awe and wonder at the hard truth and emotional soul of D.H. Lawrence. Its a novel that should be read with patience and an open-mind. If you're looking for something 'shocking', as most do when finding a D.H. Lawrence book, than expect to be shocked, but not from any sexual wildness. It centers around several people, their marriage, their children, their life. He writes in a way where you find yourself despairing at life, feeling wretched and hopeless at humanity and love. While reading, you're taken into a dream world of his creation, but the moment you set it down, you have no urge to pick it back up again. I had to force myself to read this, gnawing on the pages and choking down his words. Why, then, did I give this five stars if I didn't enjoy this book and had to force myself to finish? Well, read it, and then you'll understand the crime of giving this any less than five stars. That's all I can say. Read this, and you'll understand the insanity and brilliance of D.H. Lawrence. This, more than any of his other books in my mind, portrays his true genius. ...more
Oh, Lawrence! Lady Chatterley's Lover is certainly not as great Women in Love, though it is more fun. Throughout reading, I was struck with how shameleOh, Lawrence! Lady Chatterley's Lover is certainly not as great Women in Love, though it is more fun. Throughout reading, I was struck with how shamelessly he describes love and sensuality. I love that about D.H. Lawrence. When reading one of his novels, especiallyLady Chatterley's Lover, you don't feel as though you're reading some trashy, scandalous piece that you should feel embarrassed to be seen with. He writes shamelessly, his fascination with the relationship between men and women clear and beautiful. There's such poetic power and passion in his writing, that I was nearly in a dazed, mesmerized state. I'll never fail to be shocked and enthralled by this man. Never. ...more
Every once in a while a book comes along that can steal your life away from you, sending you in a wandering trance. Lolita did this for me. From the vEvery once in a while a book comes along that can steal your life away from you, sending you in a wandering trance. Lolita did this for me. From the very first line, to the very last page, I was enthralled. Vladimir Nabokov is one of the most beautiful writers. Each time I started reading, it was like the first dip of your body in a tub of hot water, the steam curling around you, your mind going blank with the pleasure of the heat and smoke. Reading Lolita is a dangerous, powerful thing. He writes so magnificently, that I started to even forget the book wasn't real. I felt like I was reading a memoir, written truly by a real life Humbert Humbert. This was both marvelous, and very terrible. Tearing myself away from the book grew harder and harder, and though it wasn't a fast read, it was a page-turner. Lolita is brilliant, and that's all I have left to say. This will be a book I return to, again and again, only to marvel in its power. ...more
Oh, wow. *stupefied look*. I don't know what to say. D. H. Lawrence may have created just the most beautiful book. Sensual, rather picturesque, deliciOh, wow. *stupefied look*. I don't know what to say. D. H. Lawrence may have created just the most beautiful book. Sensual, rather picturesque, deliciously exquisite, and flawlessly elegant. His writing seeps into your mind, messing and tangling it, and making everything in life seem so sharp and alluring. His characters, as well, are just as all characters in books should be: hateful, cruel, romantic, wistful, troubled, conceited, beautiful, deep...Half of the time I wanted to throttle them, and the other half I was engulfed in their richness, their vibrancy, their potent personalities. Oh, and the ending! I have no wish to spoil anything, but I'll just say: perfect. The ending is absolutely, unutterably fantastic. I greatly look forward to reading more of Lawrence's works, for this man was a genius. ...more