HENRY AND JUNE, FROM THE UNEXPURGATED DIARY OF

From "A Journal of Love" #1

by Anaïs Nin

Taken from the original, uncensored journals of Anaïs Nin, Henry and June spans a single year in Nin's life when she discovers love and torment in one insatiable couple. From late 1931 to the end of 1932, Nin falls in love with Henry Miller's writing and his wife June's striking beauty. When June leaves Paris for New York, Henry and Anaïs begin a fiery affair that liberates her sexually and morally, but also undermines her marriage and eventually leads her into psychoanalysis. As she grapples with her own conscience, a single question dominates her What will happen when June returns to Paris? An intimate account of one woman's sexual awakening, Henry and June exposes the pain and pleasure felt by a single person trapped between two loves.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Classics, Biography, Erotica, Romance, France

Paperback

First published January 1, 1986

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

[Teresa Jusino · Rating 4 out of 5]

How does one review published diaries? According to literary merit? Though Anais Nin is a beautiful, insightful writer, I feel strange talking about her "writing style" when discussing a section of her journal. What I will talk about instead is the way that books often come into your life at a time when you need them. It happened to me once with 1984 (when I needed to crystalize exactly why writing was so important to me), then again with Everything is Illuminated (when I needed to be encouraged back into writing after I'd stopped for a long time).

I was inspired to walk into a bookstore and purchase Henry and June a week or two ago, because I've been doing a lot of self-examination recently, and having heard a lot about Anais Nin I thought her journals would be the best thing to accompany me on the beginning of my journey. Originally, I'd wanted a full volume of her journals, but everything was sold out, so I ended up buying Henry and June...and since I'd never read her before, I thought it would be a good introduction.

I am so grateful that this book came into my life when it did. All I knew about Nin before reading it had to do with the sex she had. People love to sensationalize, and so when one hears the name, Anais Nin, one automatically thinks "sexual awakening", "deviance", "erotica." What amazed me was how much we had in common outside of that - the insecurities, the way in which we see men and the world, the positive and negative aspects of a Catholic upbringing, and most importantly: the ongoing battle between loving submission and intellectual assertiveness; how difficult it is to be a strong woman while still holding on to one's emotional vulnerability. I learned so much from her insights...and while I won't be having three or four lovers any time soon (heh), I appreciate the spirit of adventure with which she tried to live her life. It's something I hope to emulate in my own way.
I cried (wept) as I read the last paragraph of Henry and June, because it magically captured exactly where I am at this moment in my life:

"Last night, I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality - to Henry's selfishness, June's love of power, my insatiable creativity which must concern itself with others and cannot be sufficient to itself. I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence."

How did she know?

[Molly · Rating 1 out of 5]

Dear Anaïs,
You think too much. You need to act your age. Get a job. Honor your marriage vows or get a divorce.
You're like a teenager with a tattered, doodled spiral-bound notebook and a Starbucks prepaid account app.
Or like one of our modern day hipsters, a trustafarian thinking you're so edgy in your ragged velvet dress with the holes in the elbows, going against convention in dive cafés and being bicurious with the friend du jour.
You're not deep. Or avant-garde. You're just self-indulgent, inconstant, and annoying. You're not sucking the marrow out of life; you're just sucking.
Grow up. Get out in the world. Take on some responsibility. Then you'll have something real to write about.
Sincerely,
A Twenty-first Century Woman

[Jo (The Book Geek) · Rating 5 out of 5]

'I am almost afraid to suggest it-but Anaïs, when I think of how you press against me, how eagerly you open your legs and how wet you are, God, it drives me mad to think what you would be like when everything falls away'.

Henry and June is comparable to one of those classy tasting menus you find in fine dining restaurants. You know, the one where you get about twelve different miniature dishes, and as you progress with the menu, the courses become more decadent, and you become fuller. You see, that's Henry and June in a nutshell. One doesn't want to overindulge, in case they ruin their appetite and have no room for dessert. Believe me, we all want the dessert.

This diary is all about sex interwined with deep, emotional relationships. But this isn't about the 'for the sake of it' sex that you find a lot of in some books, where the alpha male simply seeks to dip his bread, but the sex that keeps you yearning for more even when the sheets are still damp with perspiration and bodily fluids from just an hour earlier. This is sex in it's most beautiful and purest form, and frankly, I couldn't get enough of it.

Nin describes the heat, the electricity, the feeling of being weightless in an expertly style. I felt the enticingly beautiful love that she was experiencing for Henry, and I more than understood the affection she craved from being close to another. To share that personal space together, to join as one, to not care about the world around them until until their sexual needs are sated.

Sex shouldn't be robotic and it certainly isn't there just to make a baby. We should enjoy sex, explore more, not be afraid to make ourselves a little vulnerable to try different things. Nin was a sexual being long before anything like that was socially acceptable, which to me, says much about how we are today. I mean, is it even socially acceptable today? I think not.

I'll not be discussing this with my Dad when I see him tomorrow, that's for sure.

'Henry, kiss my eyelashes, put your fingers on my eyelids. Bite my ear. Push back my hair. I have learned to unbutton you so swiftly. All, in my mouth, sucking. Your fingers. The hotness. The frenzy. Our cries of satisfaction. One for each impact of your body against mine. Each blow a sting of joy. Driving in a spiral. The core touched. The womb sucks back and forth, open, closed. Lips flicking, snake tongues flicking. Ah-the rupture -a blood cell burst with joy. Dissolution'.

This was a beautifully written book, full to the luscious brim of passionate, sometimes eyebrow-raising sex, which I'm sure I'll return to in the future. Anaïs Nin has a stunning style which cannot be matched, and it is for this reason, she is one of my favourite female writers.

[lisa (fc hollywood's version) · Rating 2 out of 5]

tiktok girlies step aside, anaïs nin is the actual og delulu

[Gabrielle (Reading Rampage) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't remember the first time I read Nin's short stories; I was probably technically a bit too young for that kind of stuff (my mom left all her books laying around and did not really believe in hiding the R-rated material), but I also feel weirdly lucky I was exposed to her writing early because it clearly influenced my ideas about sex in (what I believe to be) a positive way. Her emphasis on sensuality, her honesty and frankness about the beautiful and complicated emotions that go with sex, the diversity of her characters, her female characters' enjoyment of their bodies; that kind of stuff is not usually what you are exposed to as a teenager, which is a shame. But more importantly, I learnt from Nin that sex is something you can write about shamelessly and beautifully, that you can make literature out of dirty stories and that is a wonderful thing! I'll always have a soft spot for her work.

But "Henry and June" is not fiction; its material lifted more or less directly from Nin's very detailed diaries, and documents the intense year of her life when she first met Henry Miller (whose work I have never read, and must now absolutely get to) and his wife June. Nin becomes fascinated with June at first, but quickly develops feelings for Henry as well, the whole situation turning quickly into a blend of obsession, intense physical desire, intellectual stimulation and search for personal identity. The two writers throw themselves into a passionate affair, while understanding perfectly that neither of them will leave their respective spouses. The affair eventually ended but they remained in touch for the rest of their lives, having left a long-lasting influence on each other.

Nin was psychoanalyzed when the science was still relatively new, and she was an insightful amateur analyst herself; she kept a meticulous and deeply introspective record of her life, spending a long time detailing her inner world and trying to understand it. In this book, she struggles with conflicting desires and ideas, tries to make sense of it all, with varying levels of success.

In Anaïs Nin, I have found something of a kindred spirit: a pervert* and an iconoclast, but also a feminist (yes, you read that right) who felt very strong - and deeply vulnerable at the same time, and who had a really hard time reconciling those parts of herself. That wonderful quote: "I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman" perfectly captures how I felt in my search for a partner. I read that sentence and I wanted to scream: "This! This is what I looked for my whole life!", and eventually found in my husband. It felt like such a huge contradiction to be happy to "submit" to someone and still be assertive and living on my own terms; Anaïs clearly struggled with that conundrum - though I understand she never truly resolved it.

No, she is not perfect, not always likable, or even moral; the idea of all that lying and cheating actually grosses me out. I wouldn't want to hang out with someone that selfish and fickle. But it is a complete mistake and egregious simplification to reduce this book to simple erotica, or dismiss it because its author is not a very nice person, because there is a lot more going on there than smut. The honest attempt at untangling her feelings, reactions and at understanding herself are fascinating, the prose is absolutely stunning and to be honest, it makes me feel dreamy to read about people who had such strong bonds, intellectually and physically. Most people forget that the brain is where most of the arousal happens, after all...

It was also interesting to find what is clearly the seed of some of her short stories in the anecdotes she wrote in this journal. Anyone familiar with the "Little Birds" collection (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) will find a few sentences, a few events that very obviously inspired Nin's fiction later down the road.

5 stars for pure reading pleasure and for the entrancing journey in the mind of a very unique writer.




*I use the word pervert here for lack of a better one: I can't find a word that means "someone who shamelessly enjoys sex and refuses to be judged as a human being based on that aspect of themselves" and doesn't mean deviant or into alternative sex (whatever the fuck that means).

[Luís · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is an obsessive sensuality, a rigor in writing captured in a few seconds by the passion of the flesh. There are a few screams, a lot of paranoia, a fear of both success and failure, failed trips, burned letters, letters drunk and too lucid not to plant a Truth. There is an almost morbid fascination for these two writers, discreetly in love with the authors of their time, without jealousy or envy. There is a mocking and gloomy look at the censorship of their works.
They were only motivated by beauty and the sinuosities between sex and the immaterial.
This work can inspire everyone to take up their pen again for a deep correspondence and strive to achieve perfection in any vital enterprise, whether in the realm of darkness or light.

[Kelly W · Rating 3 out of 5]

Henry and June is the type of journal that makes me want to highlight passage after passage...since journals so often have the types of personal reflections that are hard to achieve in pure fiction.

I did get bored with it fast, though. Maybe because after the first few instances of lust, jealousy, psychoanalysis, and then more lust, jealousy, and psychoanalysis, it was pretty much the same events and observations repeating themselves in different forms. But then again, journals aren’t supposed to be designed to engage the reader—they’re designed to be self-fulfilling. So it’s kinda hard to complain about a journal from a reader’s standpoint.

Which brings me to wonder something about these writings. Nin shared her journal with several people—actually, most of the men in her life who she writes about read her journal at some point, with her permission. So I’m curious about how honestly she really wrote, knowing it could potentially be read by her subjects. It seemed honest/raw, but do we tailor things to the eyes of those who will be reading it? The same way we might be inclined to structure fiction according to a workshop we’re in, or which publisher we’re aiming for?

Nin says at one point in her journal that she no longer wants to write about her husband because she can’t do so honestly—that it’s like writing about God. You exalt someone and create a distance between yourself and that person, not wanting to say anything bad about them for fear of being blasphemous. In this case, it seemed to be Nin being attentive to her husband’s sensitivity and the tenderness she felt for him, even though her physical passion was found through Henry.

At one point in the journal her psychiatrist said to her: “You do not want weak men, but until they have become weak in your hands you are not satisfied.” Though he tended to make annoying generalizations, I think he really nailed that one. I was wondering if her passions were so intense toward Henry only because she couldn’t possess him completely. It seems so common, especially if you broaden it to everyday greed.

Because of her greed, Nin’s husband also nailed it when he said this to her: “Beware of being trapped in your own imaginings. You instill sparks in others, you charge them with your illusions, and when they burst forth into illuminations, you are taken in.”

[Khush · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the kind of book I love reading. I am delighted to find Anais Nin. She is extraordinary.

Her writing is brilliant or shall I say terrific. She writes short sentences packed with meaning. I trust her voice completely. There are no back thoughts. She is writing for herself. One can easily sense this in short, crisp and beautifully worded sentences. While reading this book, I also felt that this could easily be a novel.

At times, her writing, in certain parts of her journals, reminds me of D. H Lawrence, but soon her style, honesty, the eagerness to tell it all in clear and precise manner set her fiercely apart, not only from Lawrence but from others. She is just being Anais Nin. Just read this, the whole book carries this quality of description and keeps the reader firmly in her world.

''I have just been standing before the open window of my bedroom and I have breathed in deeply, all the sunshine, the snowdrops, the crocuses, the primroses, the crooning of the pigeons, the trills of the birds, the entire possessions of soft winds and cool smells, of frail colors and petal textured skies, the knotted grey-brown of old trees, the vertical shoots of young branches, the wet brown earth, the torn roots.''

I suppose I need to read this book again. She explores relationships, sexuality and unconscious, and how all these unfold in her life and impact her. There is much in her journals in terms of sexuality that has most probably been later theorized by the modern-day theorists. For some vague reasons I could not help thinking of 'Gender Trouble' by Judith Butler; these journals show us what it means to be human in a world of rigidly defined categories– man, women, straight, gay, transgender. They all intersect. These categories trouble her because she could be so much more. The 'reality' of human life pushes her to be just one thing. The dreams, the unconscious have other designs, patterns, other 'realities' to offer, and she goes deep into them unafraid.

In her book, The Novel of the Future' she emphasizes the importance of dreams, of the unconscious and what lies in there. We must explore the unconscious, if we want to create. Just going after the 'real' or 'concrete' is to impede what really 'real' is, and only pursuing 'this real' has the potential to make us more alive, more conscious of what we do and who we are. The writing itself shows the reality of human life as ever flowing, ever mobile in sharp contrast to the school of 'realism' which she rejects to embrace and explore the 'real' thing.

I strongly recommend her. I am really keen on reading more of work.

[persephone ☾ · Rating 5 out of 5]

anaïn nin might be unhinged and delusional but god i would die for her and her writing in a second.

[Kris Kipling · Rating 2 out of 5]

Is Anais Nin a good writer? Ought we take her seriously? Apparently some do, but the description on the back of the Penguin edition about sums up this book, culled from the "unexpurgated" diaries of Ms. Nin during the period in which writer Henry Miller and his wife June Masefield figure large on her horizon: it is a "compelling account of a woman's sexual and emotional awakening." If you don't groan at that charmless phrase, variations of which are so thoughtlessly used to describe any risque tome penned by a woman, you may enjoy "Henry and June" here. But what this really is, this diary, so obviously written with publication in mind (so much of it is flowery, "daring" and "conflicted"), is a record of one person's unchecked narcissism, the diary of a spoiled little rich girl and her self-created problems. No one comes off well in this - the husband is the world's most oblivious cuckold, the psychoanalyst a bit of a charlatan (surprise!) who secretly lusts for some Nin, the writer a would-be volcano who's disappointingly a kitten at heart, his wife surely a neurotic Fury who'll end up destroying everyone in the end, alas! - but the narrator comes off worst of all. She loves her husband Hugo, that bland boob, or... wait! she loves Miller, who she's sure will be a great literary genius or... no, maybe she hates Miller and loves her analyst, who can seemingly read her like a book, play her like a violin, or... no, it's June, Miller's wife, absent for most of the time in question, but always present as the object of Nin's lesbian dreams, who dominates all, all! Sigh. Whom she loves depends on the week, really, but most assuredly she loves Anaïs, and one's appreciation of the book depends on how much Anaïs one can stomach. I made it to the end after a stretch, but didn't feel very good about it.

[Janet · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pulled this book off my shelf where it's been waiting in the 'to read' section for a decade. It doesn't exactly mirror the original edited Vol. 1 of the Diaries of Anais Nin which I first read as a teenager--and made me want to become a writer. Startling to see the veil torn back--so many mysteries revealed. "Henry and June" becomes a gloss on what I already know.

So many things she left out in the first iteration, to sculpt a specific, curated experience for the reader. While the earlier version was more artistic, there was always something blurred in it, something veiled. This volume pushes back the curtain--is far more searching and blisteringly erotic. Nin's obsession with June is even more intense here than her falling for Henry. And her feelings about her husband, Hugo, make so much more sense now. In the edited diary, Nin does her best to conceal her paradoxes. Here, you see it all, the frantic scuffling to conceal her activities from the husband she loves and cherishes, and yet who stands in the way of her full expression of life and her hunger for experience--which she attributes to herself as a writer rather than as a woman. As a woman she could be faithful, but she felt that as a writer, she needed to, had to, experience all that life presented her.

[Kata · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anais Nin has been an idol of mine for a long time. There are few women of literary stature which I find relatable. As a young reader I cherished Judy Bloom. As an adult woman, I was thrilled to read Anais Nin. Intelligent, witty and sexually provocative.

I admire her supreme linguistic talent. Her writing, in whtever form, always maintains a powerful poetic lexicon. She made love most fervently when she held the pen in her hand. This excerpt from her personal journal is so very intimate, flux with sexuality, but you feel her grace and delicate vulnerability. Something deeply personal left for us readers.

I also admire Nin because she was an uninhibited sexual being long before it was socially acceptable. Is it even acceptable today? "Sensuality is a secret power in my body, someday it will show, healthy and ample. Wait a while." Her thoughts and feelings are confident as she expresses herself, an empowering embodiment of feminism even by today's standards. Her confidence becomes emboldened with lovers.

Nin is the epitome of unbridled lust for life.

[Ana · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't get enough of her. She is such a complex woman, I identify with so much of her intelect, with her hunger for love and with her powerfully erotic self, every page I read I find something else that applies so well to my life in this moment, my relationships, that it scares me. Reading her diaries is a very personal experience for me.

LATER EDIT: I have very strong opinions on what a woman should be like, and I strive to live up to them. More than being a way in which I think the "world" should live, it's a way in which I want to live. Anais is part of one of my favorite literary power-couples (Henry-Anais, Heidegger-Hannah), and I identify with her passion for her relationship and with the strength of her own emotions, for how she feels desperately torn between her sensitive heart and her concrete-like intellect. I have fallen in love with her whilst reading what she has written about sex - how she discovered it and what it meant for her to be a powerfully erotic woman, more like an animal than a human being, following her instinct and instilling death-bearing passions in the men of her life. I discovered her when I was 18, and I believe that was just on time, as it gave me insight into who I wanted to be.

Her diaries show a very strong and intelligent woman, but they also show she was emotionally weak, dependent on men, desiring power and dominance outwardly, while secretly dealing with being sexually submissive. That is a very fine line to walk - and it takes a lot of introspection to be able to never mix the two. I am not just reading her diaries - I am studying them. You can live a much better life if you understand the mistakes of someone who was talented enough to put them on paper.

[Lis · Rating 3 out of 5]

While reading this I was thinking that Anais is a narcissistic bitch, which I don't really necessarily hold against her. I'm sure it makes reading her journals more interesting than it would be otherwise. On one hand she comes off as so egotistical, spending the majority of her pages on how wonderful other people think she is. "Oh, you are so beautiful... you are so wonderful... I love you more than I could ever love another woman... you are everything to me..." So on and so forth. On the other hand, she is incredibly insecure. She even admits she is constantly striking poses. Considering there are no other hands, you see both sides of her are obsessed over the same thing: herself. I sense this even when she is raving about Henry and/or June.

She's cheating on her poor husband (who we are told worships her) with Henry (who we are also told worships her), and there are a few other men (who also worship her, of course), and she is so worried about her own feelings over all this that she nonchalantly professes how innocent she feels when writing about her infidelities, even while just a few feet away from her unsuspecting (or rather self-blinding) husband. She must be overestimating the promiscuity of others if she sill thinks she's got much more sexual awakening to do. But like I said, all this does help make her journals more interesting.

She is a good writer, though a bit dramatic and tends to over analyze things. She seems open, sincere and honest, but sometimes seems hindered because she does not know what she truly feels. Reading this I can't help but think I know women like her and this is a great introspective view of what drives them.

[Kelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've read "Delta of Venus" and "Little Birds", which I enjoyed, but until I read this I had not realized what an incredible writer Nin is. I also thought it was really interesting to see Henry Miller through her eyes... I have read Miller's "Tropic of Cancer", which i really enjoyed, which is very harsh and honest, but this sort of gives you a different perspective of him. I truly think she is a brilliant writer and am looking forward to reading more of her work.

[Rachel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Having first read this book at the age of 22, I have to say that my perspective on it 7 years later is dramatically different. I did not experience the profound liberation that I did when reading Henry & June the second time around. I once considered Nin to be a strong, sexually heroic figure, but now my opinion is that, during this time of her life, she was mostly confused, self-destructive and pawned her behavior off on the idea of naivity. Don't get me wrong, I feel that the love she experienced for Henry Miller was beautiful, although unfortunately damaging to herself and to the people around her. I also feel that she was indeed naive and that many of her experiences were necessary for personal growth, but she was also fully aware of her behavior and the effects of it.Perhaps my 29 year old self is not able to relate to her thoughts, emotions & behaviors on the same level as my 22 year old self was as an effect of my own sexual experiences and life lessons learned from mistakes made. Hopefully this means I am less confused now than I was 7 years ago. (Side note: If it is true that our cells completely regenerate every 7 years, creating a new physical self, then this could be an epic moment for me.) I will always hold Nin in high regard and I still want to read the remaining volumes of her unexpurgated diaries to see how she progresses (or regresses). If anything, the unbelievably gorgeous tone of her writing is well worth the time spent reading.

[Roman Clodia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality - to Henry's selfishness, to June's love of power, my insatiable creativity which must concern itself with others and cannot be sufficient to itself.

You know, I just can't decide whether I empathise with Nin or whether I really find her self-indulgent and narcissistic. These diaries (taken from a far larger set of journals) show her at her, arguably, most operatic: they're dramatic and self-dramatising as a restless Nin vascillates between lovers: her husband, Hugo; her cousin, Eduard; Henry Miller, the writer, and his wife June. A part of me just wants to reach into the book and give Nin a shake: she's almost got too much time on her hands hence the need for such a high-octane emotional/sexual life to fill out her time and give her a sense of self-identity - would she be quite so obsessive if she had a job to go to?!

On the other hand, Nin certainly adds to the literature which interrogates cultural myths about female sexuality, gender roles, and the conventions of married love. Interestingly, there are numerous parallels that appear in the journals and Nin's commercial erotica (Delta of Venus) such as the scenes where she and Hugo go out to brothels and risque clubs together, just as some of the erotic scenarios draw on her 'adventures' as an artists' model.

Overall, these intimate diaries shake up conservative/bourgeois ideals of gender and sexuality, and were no doubt shockingly open when written in the early 1930s and first published in the mid-60s. They can feel a bit too polished, too edited, at times but offer up a portrait of a restless, free, searching female spirit looking for both liberation and a home in her flesh.

[Hannah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Holy. 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."

[Samir Rawas Sarayji · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh wow, what a tale this one is and what an amazing personality Anaïs Nin is. The writing is beautiful and her observations and descriptions are top notch. The only reason this gets 4 stars is due to the amount of repetition in the book. I know that this could be construed as unfair since its a diary and this is probably the way events occurred, but it did get tiring after a while.

[Marcie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love this book more than I can say. I read the entire book from cover to cover in my early twenties and recently have been slowly going back through it with a pencil (something I've never dared do to a book before).

It's not a book for everybody and I can totally understand why many people don't enjoy it. I certainly don't agree with everything Anais says or does, she definitely wallows in self-pity and self-righteousness, and she is frequently a walking contradiction to herself, but it is a journal after all and I kind of always thought that is what journals were for.

To me this book was/is completely, utterly, beautiful. Her word flow, creativity, and sensuality completely enthralled me. I loved reading her view of the world, I loved her ideas, and her many thoughtful questions. She had a very raw and open way of describing things that allowed me to relate to her pain, confusion, lonliness, frustrations, desires, and ultimate growth. She put things in to words for me that I've never been able to describe before. I've yet to read a better book about what it actually feels like to be in love with more than one person and the emotional conflicts that result.

[Ana WJ]

THOTS ON PATREON!

[Michelle Curie · Rating 1 out of 5]

"Men look at me and I look at them, with my being unlocked. No more veils. I want many lovers. I am insatiable now. When I weep, I want to fuck it away."

I feel mean labelling a diary, where someone shared personal thoughts, as boring, but for the most part I just wanted it to end. Reading entries like these feel exciting at first, Nin shared deeply affectionate feelings and ruminations, but she kept going in circles for hundreds of pages.



For those unfamiliar with her, Anaïs Nin is now mainly known as a French-Cuban essayist and diarist, as well as writer of erotica, which is mirrored in her personal writings presented here. Back in the 30s, this was a novelty – female writers simply didn't write about sexual matters. In this publication, she takes us through the span of one year (from 1931 to the end of 1932), which was the year she began an affair with writer Henry Miller, while also being stirred by his wife, June.

The entries compiled here haven't been published before half a century after being written down, due to Nin's worry of hurting her husband. And she had reason to think so – they're uncensored, charged and honest. It's the story of a woman's awakening in many senses: sexually, emotionally, socially.

"The impetus to grow and live intensely is so powerful in me I cannot resist it. I will work, I will love my husband, but I will fulfil myself."

A few pages in, I was thrilled with the precise nature of her pinning down feelings and thoughts. It's the mark of a true journalist, someone who has grown used to define their feelings. It makes a better read, for sure. And while I appreciated her writing style as well as her general contribution to women's liberation, the problem was that this just went on and on and on. Ultimately, these stories were too personal for me to be able to connect to them, her experiences too specific to draw from them. I don't think you can blame a diary writer to be self-indulgent – of course it is going to be about them, that's the nature of the genre, but what is there to take away from it?

[Angel · Rating 1 out of 5]

I have never encountered a more hateful and repugnant subject of literary work than Anais Nin. I was eager to read her after hearing her lauded as a feminist hero, but what I found was a broken, tedious, narcissistic person with no sense of personal ethics. You're essentially reading the diary of a bored, spoiled housewife who fills her days with various adulterous escapade. This does not come across nearly as interesting as it sounds. This is not the story of a sexually liberated woman, but of a dysfunctional egomaniac with a literal oedipal complex who uses sex to validate her life and compensate for the childhood abandonment of her father. She seems to have sex, not because she is seeking pleasure, but simply because men expect it. She gives in even when she is otherwise not interested because it gives her a sense of power. She is on a never-ending quest for men who can fill the gap her father left, but no one is able to meet her impossible expectations of what a man should be. The more a man loves her, the weaker she finds him. Unfortunately, she never turns her hypercritical eye on her self. How interesting this book would have been if Nin had been capable of true introspection. Instead, we get delusions of grandeur where self-reflection should be. She constantly tells us how wonderful she is and how important she is to everyone in her life. Her obvious need to compensate for her fragile ego is tiresome. She constantly rationalizes her lying and manipulations, which seem to be her raison d'etre. She exploits her husband's love for her and his honorable character to subsidize her exploits and lovers, all the while holding him in abject disdain. She coldly calculates that she should not divorce her loyal husband whom she does not love to be with lover Henry Miller because then she would have no one to finance her pursuits. There is nothing redeeming about her, not even her tedious writing, which is so bloated with self-importance that it is a chore to get through. Anais Nin is a person too self-interested to actually be interesting.

[Valentina de Dios ⋆☽◯☾⋆ · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Fred se maravilla de que Henry sea capaz de amar a dos mujeres a la vez. «Es un
hombre grande —ha dicho—. Hay mucho espacio en él, mucho amor. Si yo te amara
a ti, me sería imposible amar a ninguna otra mujer». Y yo pensaba: «Yo soy como
Henry. Puedo amar a Hugo, a Henry y a June».”

¿Quién iba a pensar que un libro clasificado como literatura erótica me iba a impactar emocionalmente? Pues esa es la magia de Anaïs Nin. Este libro va más allá del erotismo convencional, es un diario de emociones, de pasión y autodestrucción.

Todo comienza con Anaïs y Hugo, su esposo. Hugo es un banquero, lo que lo sitúa a un mundo completamente ajeno al de Anaïs; un hombre completamente pragmático que no ve el mundo con la misma intensidad que ella y aún así la ama incondicionalmente, pero no la comprende. Desde el principio vemos cómo se siente insatisfecha en su matrimonio por esta razón, por esto lo engaña, y es el único de este triángulo (o cuadrado amoroso) que no está enterado de lo que sucede. Anaïs escribe "Voy a guardarme esta historia para cuando sea mayor, cuando él también haya liberado sus instintos. Contarle ahora la verdad sobre mí lo mataría."

Esta sensación de vacío cambia para ella cuando conoce al famoso autor Henry Miller, y más adelante a la esposa de él, June Mansfield. Todos sabemos que Henry es un hombre apasionado, directo, que no le teme a la oscuridad y a la suciedad de la vida. Henry es violento en su amor, en su arte, en su manera de existir. Anaïs se enamora de él por esta razón, gracias a Henry vive muchas nuevas experiencias en su sexualidad, que de otra forma ella no hubiese descubierto. Sin embargo, su amor la destruye ya que Henry es un enigma, pasando de la obsesión a la frialdad.

Luego está June Mansfield/Miller, la esposa de Henry. Lo cuál fue mi parte favorita del libro. June es la típica femme fatale, de hecho antes de casarse con Henry era una bailarina exótica. Desde que Anaïs la ve la idealiza como la mujer más hermosa de la tierra, no solamente en su físico sino en su esencia. Anaïs también se enamora de June, pero al mismo tiempo la desvaloriza, "June carece de ideas, de fantasías propias. Se las proporcionan otros, a quienes inspira su ser. Pero, ¿para qué quieres las ideas, las fantasías, el contenido, si la caja es hermosa e inspiradora?" en esta percepción está de acuerdo Henry, quién también se siente constantemente confundido por June, viéndola como la única mujer capaz de destruirlo con sus manipulaciones. Durante el libro no conocemos mucho de June más allá de las idealizaciones de estos dos escritores.

Por último, también me encantó como Henry y Anaïs hablan constantemente de Dostoyevski en sus cartas, porque yo amo a Dostoyevsky. Es la referencia que comparten, el escritor que mejor refleja la intensidad de sus emociones. Anaïs, obsesionada con la pasión y la autodestrucción, encuentra en él un modelo de la exaltación rusa, de la locura emocional llevada al extremo.

Este libro podría clasificarse más como autobiografía, ya que al parecer es una extracción de los diarios de Anaïs, la parte erótica es más bien limitada, sin embargo es tan explícita que de todas formas debe clasificarse como tal. Sin embargo, este libro está más enfocado en el mundo intenso de esta escritora, y cómo escribe de una forma preciosa las emociones que desvocan en ella estos amoríos, a tal punto que casi parece más una novela.

[N · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lavish, sexy, captivating... I could go on throwing out adjectives all day, without doing proper justice to how poetic and compelling this book is. Nin’s descriptions are like being wrapped in satin.

The book’s central problem, unfortunately, is the same thing that makes it great in the first place: it’s real. Nin’s words come from an honest, uncensored place deep inside herself. This makes it a fascinating read, but also a frustrating one. There’s no real storyline; there are no set-pieces to break up the narrative. Nin is confused and indecisive. Her feelings for Henry (and the other men in her life) oscillate wildly. She loves him! She doesn’t love him at all! She wants to leave him! She can’t imagine her life without him! It’s emotionally overwrought stuff and, for the reader, deeply tiring.

However, despite being a tough read, it’s definitely worth persevering with.

[Carmo · Rating 4 out of 5]

O mundo de Anais Nin é um mundo de fantasia, sensualidade e erotismo.
Anais era uma figura frágil, física e psicologicamente. Carregava a sombra do abandono do pai, e isso perseguiu-a toda a vida. Procurava a figura paterna em homens mais velhos que a fizessem sentir-se amada e protegida.
Anais era insegura, não se sentia atraente aos olhos dos homens, mas sentia uma enorme curiosidade por novas experiencias sexuais. Quando conheceu Henry e June, foi por esta que sentiu uma forte atração. Quando June viajou aproximou-se de Henry, primeiro pela partilha da escrita, depois pelo homem. É com ele que passa de menina a mulher e perde todos os preconceitos e pudores. Rende-se à entrega para de seguida mergulhar na incerteza e no sofrimento.
Anais vivia tudo com uma intensidade exagerada. Amava o marido com ternura, Henry com paixão, de Eduardo tinha pena, por Fred nem sei o que sentia. Na verdade, sentia necessidade de provocar os homens e de se sentir admirada por eles. Alternava momentos de exaltação com outros de profundo sofrimento. Fez psicanálise mas acabou envolvida com o terapeuta.
Talvez não quisesse desistir de nenhum deles porque cada um à sua maneira a completava de alguma forma. Mas era inconstante. Um dia amava Henry, outro dia não amava, tinha ciúmes de June, mas a seguir já amava June e tinha ciúmes de Henry, depois tinha raiva do marido mas logo de seguida tinha pena e virava a raiva para Henry...amava demais, e sofria demais.
Gostei da escrita delicada e emotiva, revela bem a mulher que Anais era, deixando escorrer das palavras paixão e dramatismo de forma intensa.

[m. · Rating 5 out of 5]

when i weep, i want to fuck it away.

[Stephanie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anaïs Nin never ceases to amaze me. She quotes a letter from Henry Miller in Henry and June, in which he says of her writing:

"If it is not English, it is a language nevertheless and the farther one goes along with it the more vital and necessary it seems. It is a violation of language that corresponds with the violation of thought and feeling. It could not have been written in an English which ever capable writer can employ....Above all it is the language of modernity, the language of nerves, repressions, larval thoughts, unconscious processes, images not entirely divorced from their dream content; it is the language of the neurotic, the perverted, 'marbled and veined with verdigris,' as Gautier put it, in referring to the style of decadence...."

I could not agree more.
Nin is remarkably in touch with her femininity and through the course of Henry and June, she grows to be in touch with her own sensuality, and the reader grows with her. Henry and June teaches us about the passions and conflicts of love, the heart, the mind and the soul. We see a 30 year old Anaïs learning about her art, learning about sexuality and sensuality, learning about love, learning about marriage, learning about her urges for both men and women, learning about truth and lies, learning about passion, and even learning about psychoanalysis.
The diary contained in Henry and June only covers one year, from October 1931 to October 1932. In that year, Anaïs lives at least 5 different lives. With her husband: Hugo, the subject of her admiration: June, her lover: Henry, her friend and former lover: Eduardo, and her psychoanalyst: Allendy, we see Anaïs's great capacity for love and passion. She loves each of them for a different reason and in a different way, but none any less than another. She lies and exaggerates and keeps secrets in order to preserve her state of passion, but she never loses her piety or her kindness. She remains innocuous and ardent in her fervor to prevent hurt from coming to any of her loves. She realizes the almost incestuous nature of these relationships as well.

"The men I love, Hugo loves, and I let them act like brothers. Eduardo confesses his love to Allendy. Allendy is going to be my lover. Now I send Hugo to Allendy so that Allendy will teach him to be less dependent on me for his happiness. When I immolated my childhood to my mother, when I give away all I own, when I help, understand, serve, what tremendous crimes I am expiating-strange insidious joys, like my love for Eduardo, my own blood; for Hugo's spiritual father, John; for June, a woman; for June's husband; for Eduardo's spiritual father, Allendy, who is now Hugo's guide. It only remains for me now to go to my own father and enjoy to the full the experience of our sensual sameness, to hear from his lips the obscenities, the brutal language I have never formulated, but which I love in Henry. Am I hypnotized, fascinated by evil because I have none in me? Or is there in me the greatest secret evil?"

Anaïs is on a perpetual see-saw between supreme self-confidence and supreme self-doubt. Her image of herself is at once preternaturally accurate and fatally flawed. She realizes this and tries to examine herself in the light that others see her.
Throughout the year she spends loving Henry Miller, Anaïs tries at once to become June, to win June, and to alleviate the pain that Henry feels as a result of his marriage to June. She considers herself his wife, although they are both legally wed to other people. She cares for him mentally, physically and emotionally. She becomes obsessed with him in her attempts to nurture his writing. He loves her, but feels that he is not strong enough to leave June for her. By the end of the diary, we see that he is, in fact, too weak. We also see that Anaïs is not willing to leave Hugo, either. Though they are both vastly changed by this liaison, neither Henry nor Anaïs changes his or her situation overall.

[Peggy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Through Nin's writing and life she explored the depths of sexuality and passion. Her diaries show that she identified and befriended many writers and artists before they became well-known. She wrote eloquently about the struggle to create in a society where that was not valued, and especially not for women. Her life view was twisted, I have no doubt of that, but her writing takes my breath away at times. She was also a pioneer in the self-publishing "little press" industry when she could not find a publisher for her own work.

Nin's life is pretty fascinating, as she had two husbands. She was not political, but she questioned and challenged the prevailing attitudes and values of society. Her interest in pleasing men dominated her life, but I see it as the one side of social indoctrination that she was not able to escape, rather than as a reason to reject her. She was revered in the early seventies. Her life aligned with the sexual liberation that was part of the second wave of feminism. Henry and June, in particular, I found to be a compelling narrative, a good story, and very romantic.

Because Nin was not an intellectual, not a scholar, and not interested in politics, her life may seem shallow to some, but I have found much food for thought in her life. Mostly, I honor her quest to be true to the higher calling of an artist and for her perception in identifying the hypocrisy of society.

[rachel · Rating 2 out of 5]

At the end of the book, Nin wonders something to the effect of whether or not she, Henry, and June are just three giant egos fighting each other for dominance. Although that's simplifying things, my annoyance with this book/her as a person in it was so great that I am tempted to say, "Yes, that's exactly it, good work Anaïs!"

It's a diary, so I shouldn't complain too much, but her vacillations of feeling every ten pages, only to arrive at the same feelings she had before she started to question herself, drove me absolutely insane. I felt like everyone in this book should just have one massive, daylong orgy and get it out of their systems.