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The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin #1
Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs 1914-1920
This edition, published by HBJ, shares its ISBN (not the one stated here) with another edition yet has this cover.
532 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1978
65 people are currently reading
2175 people want to read
About the author
Anaïs Nin
357 books8,996 followersWriter 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%...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ana%C3%...
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
July 7, 2012
This book is really wonderful. In a world where we have endless amounts of young adult fiction, in which grown women trying to mimic the thoughts and feelings of a teenage girl, it's refreshing to read the true thoughts and feelings of an actual teenage girl. She might be a precocious one, but her diary is so genuine, so passionate, so beautifully written that I found it inspiring.
Anaïs Nin, A.N. or Linotte, as she nicknames herself in the book, is a French-Cuban immigrant that came to New York at the age of 11 from Paris by way of Barcelona. At first she despises New York. Eventually, though, she grows to love New York and even begins to forget Spanish.
But even if A.N. is an immigrant (the book is translated from the volumes she wrote in her native French tongue), she's still more privileged than most of her peers. If her family struggles financially, we don't see much of it. They take long summer vacations and attend the theater often.
Yet her world isn't without strife; she writes often to her absent father, who remained behind in Paris as a concert pianist and divorced her mother before the book even begins. She will chide him, even sometimes cruelly berating him for not writing back. We watch her gradual process from adoring her father to realizing "papa" is a flawed human being—and eventually one she hasn't seen in years.
Meanwhile her mother works to support A.N. and her two brothers. A.N. herself struggles with her duty to help her mother with household chores and spending time "dreaming" of new stories and reading.
One of the central themes of the book is this inner conflict, as she struggles to be "good" instead of "bad."
Sometimes this conflict is literal. She talks often of her Catholic faith, even as she begins to question it more and more as she grows older. Other times, she struggles with the expectations that are placed on women: to be kind, generous, upbeat, and so on. Her family encourages her to pursue her intellectual pastimes, but it's hard for her to escape the expectations of being the eldest and a young women in this world. She might not be expected to read literature, but she does.
And oh how this girl loves reading. When her mother gives her permission to buy a new book, she chooses one thoughtfully and carefully. She enthusiastically talks of stories and poems she's working on. Her effusive praise of poetry and literature would be annoying if it wasn't so earnest.
Ultimately this volume might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I really enjoyed spending time in A.N.'s world. I found myself rooting for her, hoping she'd break free from the expectations she felt bound by and become a great artist. Of course, we know she did become a well-known writer in her own right, but her journey to get there is an engaging one.
Anaïs Nin, A.N. or Linotte, as she nicknames herself in the book, is a French-Cuban immigrant that came to New York at the age of 11 from Paris by way of Barcelona. At first she despises New York. Eventually, though, she grows to love New York and even begins to forget Spanish.
But even if A.N. is an immigrant (the book is translated from the volumes she wrote in her native French tongue), she's still more privileged than most of her peers. If her family struggles financially, we don't see much of it. They take long summer vacations and attend the theater often.
Yet her world isn't without strife; she writes often to her absent father, who remained behind in Paris as a concert pianist and divorced her mother before the book even begins. She will chide him, even sometimes cruelly berating him for not writing back. We watch her gradual process from adoring her father to realizing "papa" is a flawed human being—and eventually one she hasn't seen in years.
Meanwhile her mother works to support A.N. and her two brothers. A.N. herself struggles with her duty to help her mother with household chores and spending time "dreaming" of new stories and reading.
One of the central themes of the book is this inner conflict, as she struggles to be "good" instead of "bad."
Sometimes this conflict is literal. She talks often of her Catholic faith, even as she begins to question it more and more as she grows older. Other times, she struggles with the expectations that are placed on women: to be kind, generous, upbeat, and so on. Her family encourages her to pursue her intellectual pastimes, but it's hard for her to escape the expectations of being the eldest and a young women in this world. She might not be expected to read literature, but she does.
And oh how this girl loves reading. When her mother gives her permission to buy a new book, she chooses one thoughtfully and carefully. She enthusiastically talks of stories and poems she's working on. Her effusive praise of poetry and literature would be annoying if it wasn't so earnest.
Ultimately this volume might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I really enjoyed spending time in A.N.'s world. I found myself rooting for her, hoping she'd break free from the expectations she felt bound by and become a great artist. Of course, we know she did become a well-known writer in her own right, but her journey to get there is an engaging one.
January 6, 2026
Anaïs Nin ha solo undici anni quando lascia Barcellona per raggiungere New York. La sua famiglia è divisa ora, l’unità che prima regnava tra sua madre (Maman) e suo padre (Papa) si è spezzata per sempre, ma lei è ancora troppo piccola per capirlo. Lasciare sua nonna a Barcellona è uno strappo terribile per la giovane Anaïs, che inizia a tenere traccia di ciò che le accade e dei sentimenti che la scuotono in un diario, il primo quaderno di una lunga e inesauribile serie.
Il viaggio in nave è lunghissimo, New York e l’America in un certo senso la spaventano. La vita calda e variopinta vissuta in Spagna è costretta a scontrarsi con gli immensi palazzi americani che sembrano voler nascondere anche il cielo e che lasciano pochissimo spazio alla natura, ai paesaggi spettacolari con cui riempirsi gli occhi e trovare un po’ di pace per uno sguardo irrequieto e un cuore affranto.
I primi anni a New York sono difficili per Anaïs, sua madre e i suoi fratelli. La vita a New York è costosa, sua madre cerca di farsi conoscere come cantante, prova in tutti i modi a mantenere la propria famiglia senza l’aiuto del marito, lontano e poco disposto a ricordare i legami familiari e le responsabilità che questi comportano. Sullo sfondo della prima guerra mondiale, che getta la giovane scrittrice in una angoscia profonda per la sua patria d’elezione – la Francia, Anaïs cerca di adattarsi alla scuola americana, che trova quasi punitiva, cerca di imparare bene l’inglese, ma di non dimenticare il francese e sogna un futuro lontano dal terribile freddo newyorkese, un futuro nel quale potrà vedere Parigi.
Continua a leggere qui: https://parlaredilibri.wordpress.com/...
Il viaggio in nave è lunghissimo, New York e l’America in un certo senso la spaventano. La vita calda e variopinta vissuta in Spagna è costretta a scontrarsi con gli immensi palazzi americani che sembrano voler nascondere anche il cielo e che lasciano pochissimo spazio alla natura, ai paesaggi spettacolari con cui riempirsi gli occhi e trovare un po’ di pace per uno sguardo irrequieto e un cuore affranto.
I primi anni a New York sono difficili per Anaïs, sua madre e i suoi fratelli. La vita a New York è costosa, sua madre cerca di farsi conoscere come cantante, prova in tutti i modi a mantenere la propria famiglia senza l’aiuto del marito, lontano e poco disposto a ricordare i legami familiari e le responsabilità che questi comportano. Sullo sfondo della prima guerra mondiale, che getta la giovane scrittrice in una angoscia profonda per la sua patria d’elezione – la Francia, Anaïs cerca di adattarsi alla scuola americana, che trova quasi punitiva, cerca di imparare bene l’inglese, ma di non dimenticare il francese e sogna un futuro lontano dal terribile freddo newyorkese, un futuro nel quale potrà vedere Parigi.
Continua a leggere qui: https://parlaredilibri.wordpress.com/...
December 25, 2014
Anais Nin's writing always makes me happy sigh, infused as it is with a certain otherworldliness and a beauty separate from whatever one may think of the woman herself. (Even in her own diaries, it's clear that Nin must have been a very difficult woman to deal with. And that's putting it mildly.) In short, I'm very much a fan of all her work, but while I'd love to recommend Linotte to everyone, I can't. I'm too aware that this is really a book that will only hold the attention of like-minded fans past the first few pages, because everyone else may be put off by the scribblings of the eleven-year-old girl we are introduced to in the beginning.
Let's be honest hereL those first few pages aren't exactly great literature. They're shaky, often silly, and hit or miss in the "mostly miss" kind of way. She was eleven, so of course they are, as writing better than the average pre-teen, even significantly better like Nin, isn't really saying much. But there's promise there, even in the earliest entries, and the older she gets, the more the reader can recognize that first signs of Nin's style developing, the one that was so defined in Henry and June. The reward at the end is worth the mishaps in the beginning. Definitely. If nothing else, witnessing Nin's evolution as a writer is fascinating.
Highly recommended for fans. If you're interested but uncertain about committing to a 500+ page read that might just end up boring you to tears, just skip the early stuff and go directly to the entries for 1919. You'll be able to catch up, and the final two hundred and fifty pages are the crux of these diaries, anyway.
Let's be honest hereL those first few pages aren't exactly great literature. They're shaky, often silly, and hit or miss in the "mostly miss" kind of way. She was eleven, so of course they are, as writing better than the average pre-teen, even significantly better like Nin, isn't really saying much. But there's promise there, even in the earliest entries, and the older she gets, the more the reader can recognize that first signs of Nin's style developing, the one that was so defined in Henry and June. The reward at the end is worth the mishaps in the beginning. Definitely. If nothing else, witnessing Nin's evolution as a writer is fascinating.
Highly recommended for fans. If you're interested but uncertain about committing to a 500+ page read that might just end up boring you to tears, just skip the early stuff and go directly to the entries for 1919. You'll be able to catch up, and the final two hundred and fifty pages are the crux of these diaries, anyway.
December 30, 2021
what a pure, pure delight to read. nin is incredibly wise and eloquent, yet subject to the same teenage and emotional whims as any sixteen year old (or twenty-four, fine…) year old girl. all of this results in a diary that both inspires me and makes me feel like i’m receiving a letter from an old friend. i am so excited to read the next volumes
July 28, 2016
Actual diary of 13-year-old creative writer from the 1910s, whose family immigrated from France to NYC. I had never heard of Anais Nin when I discovered this book browsing through the Brookfield Public Library. Anne Frank's diary had been very special to me, as a person and as an adolescent writer, so this was a happy discovery. I marveled at her descriptions of life as a Catholic youth from an extended artistic family in New York City during the early 20th century. She meticulously listed how much her clothes cost, and which books she read. She found beauty and mysticism in the most ordinary things.
NOTHING ELSE BY HER IS WORTH READING. She grew up to become famous for her erotica, bisexualism, "open marriage", etc. Reading a bit more of her celebrated multi-volume diary led me into temptation; consider yourself warned. (I wish someone had warned me, or that I had been less willing to explore.) A quote of hers that I have remembered ever since: "Those who indulge in the unnatural lose their taste for natural things."
NOTHING ELSE BY HER IS WORTH READING. She grew up to become famous for her erotica, bisexualism, "open marriage", etc. Reading a bit more of her celebrated multi-volume diary led me into temptation; consider yourself warned. (I wish someone had warned me, or that I had been less willing to explore.) A quote of hers that I have remembered ever since: "Those who indulge in the unnatural lose their taste for natural things."
August 5, 2011
Anaïs Nin clearly has a passion for writing. Her first diaries evoke detailed images of what it was like for her as a teenage immigrant to America. Despite being written in French and subsequently translated into English, her ability to express herself (in two languages) is phenomenal. Her words flow and the minute details of her life are rarely boring. Her insights into other people and the nature of life are much deeper than one would expect for a person of her age. Many of her observations show a wisdom and intelligence that create a desire, for me at least, to continue to read her thoughts and descriptions of her life to find out how she continues to evolve and blossom as a writer and as a woman in the 20th Century.
June 25, 2008
I am having such a hard time putting this book down. Its amazing that an 11 year old girl can write something so beautiful.
January 24, 2026
4.5 — This really left quite an impression on me. As someone often labeled sensitive and shaped by girlhood, it felt very affirming. There is so much to admire in Nin’s honesty and her restless drive to create herself and become the master of her own ship. She’s flawed and, for some, perhaps too much, but I mostly just want to give her young self a hug. 🫂
———
preface (from Anaïs’s youngest brother)
“Her laughter, her tears, her sadness, her enthusiasm, come to the surface like bubbles of oxygen from the deep waters of her introspection. She was a deep-sea diver from the start, and the diary was her indispensable lifeline.”
“It is precisely the child in Anaïs, the clarity of her vision and the purity of her heart that enabled her to remain indestructible and delicate at the same time. I used to call her my steel hummingbird. And so she was.”
1914 (11 years old)
“It's true that I haven't suffered yet, I am only eleven, and I can't say, I must wait awhile before answering that question. Although my curiosity isn't satisfied, I shall resign myself and talk about something else.”
“My only pleasure is reading and writing. Maman doesn't like that very much, she says I will never earn any money, but my idea isn't to make money like the Americans, who drink it and eat it and jingle it in their hands. I don't want that, I don't aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that's the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.”
1915 (12 years old)
“I have to recognize that I am crazy, but since my diary is the diary of a madwoman, I can't write only reasonable things, and if I did they wouldn't be my own thoughts.”
“For now I shall quiet my thoughts and let my pen work.”
“In those dreamy moments I feel as though I have left this sad earth, I feel as though I catch a glimpse, a tiny glimpse, of the air and fragrance of heaven, it seems as though I fly away toward the infinite.”
“I would like to be ten strong men, I would like to know how to fight and help France.
Unfortunately, I realize with sadness that I am only two children, and a female at that. When shall I be the equal of at least one man?”
“But I must admit that it was only when I began to keep a diary that my ideas began to take shape and pour forth.”
“I want to dream, and my soul is torn between dreaming and living. Which is better? I am going to think about it.”
“When I read, I am with the hero, whether it be under water, in chains, or even on the moon. I leave everything behind to follow the hero or the heroes. My heart beats with the same feelings of anguish, sorrow, joy, whatever. It seems as though I myself am on an island volcano that is ready to explode. I follow the labors of the shipwrecked men as though I myself were doing them. A little flame makes my heart pound.”
1916 (13 years old)
“I hear a mysterious voice speaking to me. I suppose the voice comes from me, since it thinks as I do. I stay a long time, half asleep. I don't feel anything. I dream. I forget the earth, I forget everything, and I soar into an infinite without misery and without end. It seems to me I am looking for something, I don't know what, but when my free spirit escapes from the powerful claws of that mortal enemy, the World, it seems to me I find what I wanted. Is it forgetfulness? Silence? I don't know, but that same voice speaks to me, although I think I am alone. I can't understand what it says, bút I say to myself that in this world, one can never be alone and forget. I call that voice "my genie." Good or Evil, I don't know which.”
“From now on, I have two companions: my earthly diary and heavenly prayer. Both of them console, both strengthen, and both know the faults of their Anais.”
“When I die on earth, it will happen, as it sometimes does to two lights that are lighted at the same time: when one goes out, the other burns more brightly. I will be extinguished on earth but will be relighted in infinity.”
“I write. Two hours have passed and I am changed; it seems as though all the darkness has vanished like a cloud.”
“When, at last, I see myself here, sitting at the window, my head leaning sadly on one shoulder, I think, "Why am I living?", According to George Sand: to love.
According to the Imitation: ' to serve God.
According to humanity: to suffer.
According to the bee: to work.
According to the laws of charity: to be useful.
What should one believe? I would like to be useful, but if one day, like everyone else, I happen to fall in love, could I fulfill both of those duties? Or if one day I am obliged to suffer, as everyone is, could I be useful and suffer at the same time? My whole being says yes, but something in me says no, no, no! And a voice tells me: "None of that is good except the first one."”
“In front of me there is a bottomless pit and I wonder, if I continue falling this way, how long will it take me to reach the bottom? I imagine that the bottomless pit is life, and the day I reach bottom will be the day I am through suffering. One of these days, I should be able to say: My diary, I have reached the bottom. Then my diary will cover the pit to protect me from the light and I shall not be covered with dust. In the meantime, I plunge into the light.”
“Sometimes I have feelings that I can't explain, impulses that I can't control, impressions that I can't sort out, dreams, thoughts that are different from everything that has gone before. When I read a book, I discuss it with myself, I criticize it, find its faults, its qualities, and I begin to think about things that are so deep that I get lost, get tired, and I don't understand myself any more. Then I become angry and wonder why I don't think like everyone else, why I don't read books as other people do, that is, without exploring them deeply, without playing with them; why I start thinking of things that don't exist instead of taking life simply and innocently, as it comes, without trying to understand its mysteries, its windings and its depths. Ah, I ask myself so many "whys" and I can never answer, since I don't know either,”
1917 (14 years old)
“But I think that was the only time I have been able to hold my temper, because in spite of myself a great anger is always ready to rule me, and alas! its power over me is so great that I always have an insult on the tip of my tongue and a big black spot in my heart. At the slightest teasing, my whole body trembles with impatience.”
“When I saw that she understood me and approved, I could hardly contain my joy… Well, to tell the truth, I have never revealed so much of that world of dreams, thoughts and impressions to anyone as I did to Mrs. Sarlabous. I felt like dancing with joy, for I saw that she didn't make fun of me, she didn't say, as Maman does, "Now you are being dramatic!" with that mocking accent and tone that al most everyone uses with me when I say just a few words. I saw that I was saying thousands of words to Mrs. Sarlabous and that she was not mocking.”
“Next day in school I felt like laughing at everything and nothing, and it seemed to me that the entire class, and even Miss Pomares, should be as happy as I, and yet nothing had changed! Since then, I see everything through rose-colored glasses, because I am happy to be able to say: someone understands me.”
“One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don't understand.”
“Two or three times I have started to think and wonder why it is that we are born to obey. Why must our whole life be a long, heavy chain of obedience?”
“I shall pardon my past stupidities and read them again when I want to laugh.”
1918 (15 years old)
***manuscript was lost***
1919 (16 years old)
“And suddenly I began to wonder what I would do without my diary. Can you answer me that, my faithful confidant? You know who I am, must I tell you again? A poet with a cracked and muddled head, a philosopher who doesn't know anything, a bad pupil and many other things like that. How and to whom could I say everything that goes through my mind? When I am angry, I write and my anger cools; when I am sad, I write and my melancholy wears off; when I am happy, I write, and I am happy every time I reread what I write; when I have no friends, I write, and you are there; when everyone calls me an ignoramus, I write and am consoled; when I bungle a poem, I write and am comforted.”
“I can really say that I am happy, even spoiled. Right now I have perhaps everything that a 16-year-old girl could want—everything apart from the great emptiness in my heart, in my dreams, in my whole life, the name of which I don't know.”
“But I never thought that at 16 I would know the bottom of the human heart, in whose depths, after having explored the fragrant surface, I found only mud. But perhaps I myself may have caused another to lose faith and robbed him of his illusions! When I think of that, I shudder!”
“But how can I change in one day the mask that I have been wearing for 16 years?”
“Sometimes it seems as though i shall always remain on the wrong side of the ocean that one has to cross to reach the other side, cross it or drown.”
“This transformation, which is so normal, is like an abyss that makes me dizzy. It is a deep mystery of nature that takes my breath away. Even now, I may be on the threshold of another transformation, on the threshold of another being that will be added to or will replace the one I am about to leave behind, as one gets rid of an old worn coat. What food for thought.”
“So it isn't all egotism, it's also a way of acting as my own teacher.”
“Is it my age? The intoxication of Nature? The charm of novelty? Alas! I hardly know myself anymore! Everything around me sings in an unknown language, the same unexplainable and mysterious song that books and older people talk about, And I listen and think and ... don't understand.”
“She hides her smile, her feelings, and only lets one see her capricious side. I always feel like taking her and turning her inside out, as I am sure there is good within.”
“Human nature, with its faults and qualities, is a mystery. At 16 I have made certain discoveries and I will continue to do so until the day I die, because the mystery is bottomless.”
“Oh! let's not talk any more about the past. Only the future counts, and yet the Future is born of the Past. Will the future inherit all of the miseries of the past? No, the laws of inheritance are too unjust to be the law that rules our Happiness.”
“Do you fear to meet disillusionment? Yes, that is the fear of the Dreamer.”
1920 (17 years old)
“This morning I went to Communion and I found that I haven't changed. The ritual of the Mass absolutely does not touch my heart. I understand the Creator and his Wonders much better when I listen to music or when I watch the sun setting behind the trees in the forest which are still covered with snow crystals...”
“I am full of contradictions; my dreams, my Fantasy are as powerful as my philosophy, my ideas and my ideals.”
“Everything speaks to me, everything is alive—and sublimely simple and beautiful! More than ever, at such moments my heart is a beautiful song... All the strength of my emotions thus awakened will flow into clear little streams, each one murmuring its song through the solemn forests of my deepest thoughts, to brighten, caress, bedew, refresh… It's an exquisite flood, which runs on like that until something stops it.”
“Duty again. Oh, heavens, I had never thought about that. Everything on earth seems to turn around a center, the center of the Circle. Apparently, anyone who loses his way loses his balance. Then in spite of what the poets say, Life is scientific? A circle, with a point in the center: Duty. We revolve around it, to the end. Then we leave the circle noiselessly, while the others keep on turning.”
“I do not believe there is exactly such a thing as two selves, as you say. They say that the mind is a great kingdom. Well, in every kingdom there are dissension, dualisms, wars and peace—wars caused by the active creators of differences, and peace to rest between the wars. Stop laughing! I can just hear you, but I am quite in earnest though all this may sound like pedagogism and pedantry. You are just one "self": the "self" that all those around you know so well. Only your mind is full of dualism. Your impulses, all of them, are good, but when you begin analyzing them and doubting them, then you doubt all your thoughts, your deeds, and your dreams. You go as far as doubting whether you still have a soul, you think that routine can make a machine of you. A machine has no soul; you are not a machine because if you once had a soul, you still have it. No routine, or in other words, no machine-life, can kill a soul.”
———
preface (from Anaïs’s youngest brother)
“Her laughter, her tears, her sadness, her enthusiasm, come to the surface like bubbles of oxygen from the deep waters of her introspection. She was a deep-sea diver from the start, and the diary was her indispensable lifeline.”
“It is precisely the child in Anaïs, the clarity of her vision and the purity of her heart that enabled her to remain indestructible and delicate at the same time. I used to call her my steel hummingbird. And so she was.”
1914 (11 years old)
“It's true that I haven't suffered yet, I am only eleven, and I can't say, I must wait awhile before answering that question. Although my curiosity isn't satisfied, I shall resign myself and talk about something else.”
“My only pleasure is reading and writing. Maman doesn't like that very much, she says I will never earn any money, but my idea isn't to make money like the Americans, who drink it and eat it and jingle it in their hands. I don't want that, I don't aspire to anything, I just want to be allowed to think and contemplate the landscape and to be left to read in peace, that's the truth. I prefer not to think unless I am alone. When I am alone I read, I think and I write.”
1915 (12 years old)
“I have to recognize that I am crazy, but since my diary is the diary of a madwoman, I can't write only reasonable things, and if I did they wouldn't be my own thoughts.”
“For now I shall quiet my thoughts and let my pen work.”
“In those dreamy moments I feel as though I have left this sad earth, I feel as though I catch a glimpse, a tiny glimpse, of the air and fragrance of heaven, it seems as though I fly away toward the infinite.”
“I would like to be ten strong men, I would like to know how to fight and help France.
Unfortunately, I realize with sadness that I am only two children, and a female at that. When shall I be the equal of at least one man?”
“But I must admit that it was only when I began to keep a diary that my ideas began to take shape and pour forth.”
“I want to dream, and my soul is torn between dreaming and living. Which is better? I am going to think about it.”
“When I read, I am with the hero, whether it be under water, in chains, or even on the moon. I leave everything behind to follow the hero or the heroes. My heart beats with the same feelings of anguish, sorrow, joy, whatever. It seems as though I myself am on an island volcano that is ready to explode. I follow the labors of the shipwrecked men as though I myself were doing them. A little flame makes my heart pound.”
1916 (13 years old)
“I hear a mysterious voice speaking to me. I suppose the voice comes from me, since it thinks as I do. I stay a long time, half asleep. I don't feel anything. I dream. I forget the earth, I forget everything, and I soar into an infinite without misery and without end. It seems to me I am looking for something, I don't know what, but when my free spirit escapes from the powerful claws of that mortal enemy, the World, it seems to me I find what I wanted. Is it forgetfulness? Silence? I don't know, but that same voice speaks to me, although I think I am alone. I can't understand what it says, bút I say to myself that in this world, one can never be alone and forget. I call that voice "my genie." Good or Evil, I don't know which.”
“From now on, I have two companions: my earthly diary and heavenly prayer. Both of them console, both strengthen, and both know the faults of their Anais.”
“When I die on earth, it will happen, as it sometimes does to two lights that are lighted at the same time: when one goes out, the other burns more brightly. I will be extinguished on earth but will be relighted in infinity.”
“I write. Two hours have passed and I am changed; it seems as though all the darkness has vanished like a cloud.”
“When, at last, I see myself here, sitting at the window, my head leaning sadly on one shoulder, I think, "Why am I living?", According to George Sand: to love.
According to the Imitation: ' to serve God.
According to humanity: to suffer.
According to the bee: to work.
According to the laws of charity: to be useful.
What should one believe? I would like to be useful, but if one day, like everyone else, I happen to fall in love, could I fulfill both of those duties? Or if one day I am obliged to suffer, as everyone is, could I be useful and suffer at the same time? My whole being says yes, but something in me says no, no, no! And a voice tells me: "None of that is good except the first one."”
“In front of me there is a bottomless pit and I wonder, if I continue falling this way, how long will it take me to reach the bottom? I imagine that the bottomless pit is life, and the day I reach bottom will be the day I am through suffering. One of these days, I should be able to say: My diary, I have reached the bottom. Then my diary will cover the pit to protect me from the light and I shall not be covered with dust. In the meantime, I plunge into the light.”
“Sometimes I have feelings that I can't explain, impulses that I can't control, impressions that I can't sort out, dreams, thoughts that are different from everything that has gone before. When I read a book, I discuss it with myself, I criticize it, find its faults, its qualities, and I begin to think about things that are so deep that I get lost, get tired, and I don't understand myself any more. Then I become angry and wonder why I don't think like everyone else, why I don't read books as other people do, that is, without exploring them deeply, without playing with them; why I start thinking of things that don't exist instead of taking life simply and innocently, as it comes, without trying to understand its mysteries, its windings and its depths. Ah, I ask myself so many "whys" and I can never answer, since I don't know either,”
1917 (14 years old)
“But I think that was the only time I have been able to hold my temper, because in spite of myself a great anger is always ready to rule me, and alas! its power over me is so great that I always have an insult on the tip of my tongue and a big black spot in my heart. At the slightest teasing, my whole body trembles with impatience.”
“When I saw that she understood me and approved, I could hardly contain my joy… Well, to tell the truth, I have never revealed so much of that world of dreams, thoughts and impressions to anyone as I did to Mrs. Sarlabous. I felt like dancing with joy, for I saw that she didn't make fun of me, she didn't say, as Maman does, "Now you are being dramatic!" with that mocking accent and tone that al most everyone uses with me when I say just a few words. I saw that I was saying thousands of words to Mrs. Sarlabous and that she was not mocking.”
“Next day in school I felt like laughing at everything and nothing, and it seemed to me that the entire class, and even Miss Pomares, should be as happy as I, and yet nothing had changed! Since then, I see everything through rose-colored glasses, because I am happy to be able to say: someone understands me.”
“One of these days, I shall talk about the things in myself that I don't understand.”
“Two or three times I have started to think and wonder why it is that we are born to obey. Why must our whole life be a long, heavy chain of obedience?”
“I shall pardon my past stupidities and read them again when I want to laugh.”
1918 (15 years old)
***manuscript was lost***
1919 (16 years old)
“And suddenly I began to wonder what I would do without my diary. Can you answer me that, my faithful confidant? You know who I am, must I tell you again? A poet with a cracked and muddled head, a philosopher who doesn't know anything, a bad pupil and many other things like that. How and to whom could I say everything that goes through my mind? When I am angry, I write and my anger cools; when I am sad, I write and my melancholy wears off; when I am happy, I write, and I am happy every time I reread what I write; when I have no friends, I write, and you are there; when everyone calls me an ignoramus, I write and am consoled; when I bungle a poem, I write and am comforted.”
“I can really say that I am happy, even spoiled. Right now I have perhaps everything that a 16-year-old girl could want—everything apart from the great emptiness in my heart, in my dreams, in my whole life, the name of which I don't know.”
“But I never thought that at 16 I would know the bottom of the human heart, in whose depths, after having explored the fragrant surface, I found only mud. But perhaps I myself may have caused another to lose faith and robbed him of his illusions! When I think of that, I shudder!”
“But how can I change in one day the mask that I have been wearing for 16 years?”
“Sometimes it seems as though i shall always remain on the wrong side of the ocean that one has to cross to reach the other side, cross it or drown.”
“This transformation, which is so normal, is like an abyss that makes me dizzy. It is a deep mystery of nature that takes my breath away. Even now, I may be on the threshold of another transformation, on the threshold of another being that will be added to or will replace the one I am about to leave behind, as one gets rid of an old worn coat. What food for thought.”
“So it isn't all egotism, it's also a way of acting as my own teacher.”
“Is it my age? The intoxication of Nature? The charm of novelty? Alas! I hardly know myself anymore! Everything around me sings in an unknown language, the same unexplainable and mysterious song that books and older people talk about, And I listen and think and ... don't understand.”
“She hides her smile, her feelings, and only lets one see her capricious side. I always feel like taking her and turning her inside out, as I am sure there is good within.”
“Human nature, with its faults and qualities, is a mystery. At 16 I have made certain discoveries and I will continue to do so until the day I die, because the mystery is bottomless.”
“Oh! let's not talk any more about the past. Only the future counts, and yet the Future is born of the Past. Will the future inherit all of the miseries of the past? No, the laws of inheritance are too unjust to be the law that rules our Happiness.”
“Do you fear to meet disillusionment? Yes, that is the fear of the Dreamer.”
1920 (17 years old)
“This morning I went to Communion and I found that I haven't changed. The ritual of the Mass absolutely does not touch my heart. I understand the Creator and his Wonders much better when I listen to music or when I watch the sun setting behind the trees in the forest which are still covered with snow crystals...”
“I am full of contradictions; my dreams, my Fantasy are as powerful as my philosophy, my ideas and my ideals.”
“Everything speaks to me, everything is alive—and sublimely simple and beautiful! More than ever, at such moments my heart is a beautiful song... All the strength of my emotions thus awakened will flow into clear little streams, each one murmuring its song through the solemn forests of my deepest thoughts, to brighten, caress, bedew, refresh… It's an exquisite flood, which runs on like that until something stops it.”
“Duty again. Oh, heavens, I had never thought about that. Everything on earth seems to turn around a center, the center of the Circle. Apparently, anyone who loses his way loses his balance. Then in spite of what the poets say, Life is scientific? A circle, with a point in the center: Duty. We revolve around it, to the end. Then we leave the circle noiselessly, while the others keep on turning.”
“I do not believe there is exactly such a thing as two selves, as you say. They say that the mind is a great kingdom. Well, in every kingdom there are dissension, dualisms, wars and peace—wars caused by the active creators of differences, and peace to rest between the wars. Stop laughing! I can just hear you, but I am quite in earnest though all this may sound like pedagogism and pedantry. You are just one "self": the "self" that all those around you know so well. Only your mind is full of dualism. Your impulses, all of them, are good, but when you begin analyzing them and doubting them, then you doubt all your thoughts, your deeds, and your dreams. You go as far as doubting whether you still have a soul, you think that routine can make a machine of you. A machine has no soul; you are not a machine because if you once had a soul, you still have it. No routine, or in other words, no machine-life, can kill a soul.”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 27, 2022
I've ready many of Anais Nin's works, I can take it or leave it with some of her erotica and short stories, but it's her diaries that really showcase her real writing talent where she's not trying too hard to be lyrical and poetic, but where she makes the mundane seem so naturally wondrous and beautiful. She clearly was a precocious little girl who could already write remarkably and somehow engage you even when hardly much has happened in her day at all. Her early diaries not only served as a personal document for herself but also gave us snapshots of NYC and some glimpses into the popular fashion, movies, celebrities, etc. at the time. It was precious and endearing how much of her passion for writing, family, and living life to the fullest came through so overwhelmingly, and how impressive that so many diary entries, enough for 4 volumes! Does it go on for a little too long, though? Yes, but I wouldn't even say that you'd have to read it in its entirety to get the full picture of what a talented young lady she was and how affective she was as a storyteller. Excellent and worth checking it.
July 8, 2008
I'm not sure where I heard about Anais Nin but I wanted to read her journals. I couldn't bring myself to start in the middle of her life, so I found her earliest journals... and was pretty much bored silly.
December 27, 2016
Her thoughts are astoundingly deep and mature, even when she was only 11. There's a bit of jealousy that goes along with reading this, be warned, a lot of looking back at yourself at these ages and regretting that you weren't as intelligent, as talented, as thoughtful as she was.
September 15, 2024
„Weil ich einen Spiegel besitze: mein Tagebuch. Ist das nicht ein Spiegel, der dem Vergessen die wahre Geschichte einer Träumerin nacherzählt, die vor langer Zeit durchs Leben ging, so wie man ein Buch liest? Als das Buch geschlossen wurde, ließ es seinen Leser mit all seinen Schätzen an Belehrung zurück.“
Wer Nins Tagebücher beginnt zu lesen, in der Hoffnung auf eine spannende „Story“, ist meiner Meinung nach hier fehl am Platz. Es sind vielmehr die vielen kleinen Momente des Erwachens eines jungen Geistes die hier auf einen warten. Es sind Einträge eines Mädchens, das Fragen an die Welt stellt, ohne viele Antworten zu erhalten. Ich verstehe, warum einige diese Tagebücher aus der Kindheit als langweilig empfinden, denn wie Nin selbst mit 16 beschreibt, folgt ihr Schreiben nicht den Regeln eines Romans, der einem bestimmten Prinzip folgt, sondern richtet sich wie Briefe an ihren treuesten Freund: das Tagebuch.
Mich persönlich haben diese Einträge in so vielen Etappen ergriffen und mitgerissen. Allein schon die Möglichkeit, ihre Gedankengänge nachzuvollziehen und an ihrem Leben teilhaben zu können, ist beeindruckend. Da dies erst mein zweites Buch von Nin ist (nach „Delta of Venus“), stelle ich mir nun Fragen, wie es weitergeht: Was erlebt dieses junge Mädchen, und welche Schlüsse zieht sie aus diesen Erlebnissen? Wie gestaltet sich der Weg, begonnen mit der Liebe zu Gott, hin zur Lust am Schreiben, am Leben und, nun ja, auch am Lieben? Ich kann es wirklich kaum erwarten, mehr von ihr zu lesen.
Wer Nins Tagebücher beginnt zu lesen, in der Hoffnung auf eine spannende „Story“, ist meiner Meinung nach hier fehl am Platz. Es sind vielmehr die vielen kleinen Momente des Erwachens eines jungen Geistes die hier auf einen warten. Es sind Einträge eines Mädchens, das Fragen an die Welt stellt, ohne viele Antworten zu erhalten. Ich verstehe, warum einige diese Tagebücher aus der Kindheit als langweilig empfinden, denn wie Nin selbst mit 16 beschreibt, folgt ihr Schreiben nicht den Regeln eines Romans, der einem bestimmten Prinzip folgt, sondern richtet sich wie Briefe an ihren treuesten Freund: das Tagebuch.
Mich persönlich haben diese Einträge in so vielen Etappen ergriffen und mitgerissen. Allein schon die Möglichkeit, ihre Gedankengänge nachzuvollziehen und an ihrem Leben teilhaben zu können, ist beeindruckend. Da dies erst mein zweites Buch von Nin ist (nach „Delta of Venus“), stelle ich mir nun Fragen, wie es weitergeht: Was erlebt dieses junge Mädchen, und welche Schlüsse zieht sie aus diesen Erlebnissen? Wie gestaltet sich der Weg, begonnen mit der Liebe zu Gott, hin zur Lust am Schreiben, am Leben und, nun ja, auch am Lieben? Ich kann es wirklich kaum erwarten, mehr von ihr zu lesen.
May 21, 2023
It is difficult to engage with this book in the beginning. A diary written by an eleven year old girl (a precocious and intelligent one, but still) is trying to read. But, by the time she reaches fifteen you begin to see the writer she becomes. And her description of the fire on a cold night is magical, pure poetry. Worth the effort to read.
January 13, 2024
Wonderful insight into Nin's early years, her family, and the progression of her writing skills. Looking forward to reading the next three volumes of this, together with the five mature journals/diaries that I haven't read yet.
November 14, 2007
Oh, I LOVE Anais Nin! This is a must for any Anais Nin fan. I wish I had started with this years ago, to see her progression. It is fantastically written; even as a young teenager, she is an excellent and captivating writing. You can see her skill and it was not boring by any means; her life has an adventure to it, a novel-like quality like her later diaries do. (What happens next with Prince Marcus? Will Papa come over? What will happen with Maman's business?) I highly recommend this fabulous diary.
August 27, 2013
Very interesting to read such young thoughts from Anais Nin, whose adult impressions have been such a big part of my adult life. I liked seeing her development and am excited to read more of the early diaries of her late teens and early twenties, as I have only read the ones starting in the early 1930s, about ten years after this one. At times this volume could be a bit repetitive, but that makes sense given that it is the day to day of a child's life.
April 4, 2008
Those of you who do not know who she is, for one she was a lover of Henry Miller.
Henry Miller, well hmmm... Wikipedia him.
She started her diary early, age eleven.
This is a great prerequisite to foundate her latter writings.
I'm so excited!
I'm enraptured at the moment and am deleting all current readings. Yeah.
Henry Miller, well hmmm... Wikipedia him.
She started her diary early, age eleven.
This is a great prerequisite to foundate her latter writings.
I'm so excited!
I'm enraptured at the moment and am deleting all current readings. Yeah.
November 28, 2011
What's a polite way to admit that these diary entries are, you know, kind of boring? What did you expect? Anaïs was just a baby. Still, pretty exciting moment there when she realises she is no longer ugly. I'll stop this review now, because as she notes, "people who complain are good for nothing in the world. And pessimists are monsters!"
February 18, 2008
Voyeurism at its best. A study on the psychological landscape of young womanhood. Nin is a born writer - even these diary entries, some as early as nine years old, are concise, beautifully detailed and filled with piercing vulnerability.
Read
November 20, 2013Not terribly interesting, but I realize she was very young when writing this. Considering her age at the time of writing, it's fairly well written. I am willing to read another book of her when she is older.
August 21, 2010
Reading the earliest diaries of Ms. Nin was enjoyable. I would recommend them only to fanatics, however.
August 18, 2011
I need to re-read this - formative.
Want to read
March 16, 2008If Sarah has not led me astray THIS time....
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