Nin, Anaïs (Vol. 11)
Nin, Anaïs 1903–1977
Nin, an American novelist, short story writer, and critic, is best known for her diaries. Living in Paris in the 1930s, she became part of several artistic and intellectual circles, where she became acquainted with Antonin Artaud, Henry Miller, and Otto Rank. Her study with Rank, a prominent psychoanalyst, is reflected in both her fiction and her diary, where she explores the power of the subconscious in imagery drawn from dream and myth. (See also CLC, Vols. 1, 4, 8, and Contemporary Authors, Vols. 13-16, rev. ed.; obituary, Vols. 69-72.)
The intriguing and engaging narrator of Anaïs Nin's Diary has surely earned for herself a place among the great literary creations to appear in this century. Purporting to reveal aspects of her life (and the growth of her sensibilities) in selections from an autobiographical journal, the narrator knows and relates the truth about herself…. The creation and development of this narrator unquestionably attest to the power and skill of Nin, the author, and it is therefore unfortunate that many readers have failed to appreciate the difference between the two. (p. 9)
[The] values and techniques [Nin] employed in her fiction are finely honed for use in the Diary. Psychological authenticity, which lies at the heart of all of Nin's work, is effected in the Diary as in the fiction through the manipulation of symbolism, dreams, and other dramatic devices which generate a sense of immediacy. Similarly, the Diary reveals a fine sense of timing, character development and selection, which Nin initiated and Gunther Stuhlmann aided; as in her fiction, but frequently with sustained concreteness, characters appear and reappear in multiple contexts, while typical of both the fiction and the Diary is the presence of a chief female character who is omnipresent—as a participant or as an observer—and whose development is presented through multiple exposures in a variety of contexts, through her own self-analysis, or...
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J. S. Atherton
A maternal figure at times, [Nin] encouraged, for example, both Lawrence Durrell and Henry Miller; especially Miller, whom she supported financially for some time as well as encouraging his writing. Many other young writers were helped by her in various ways at various times. Although a wealthy woman by Parisian left-bank standards, she sometimes found herself committed to spending more than she had available. It was on such an occasion that the stories in Delta of Venus were written.
The request was made by a wealthy old man to Henry Miller for some stories which "cut out the poetry and concentrated on sex". Telling Anaïs Nin about this, Miller explained that writing such stories would be against his integrity and asked her to write them for him. What about her own integrity, she asked; but Miller did not appear to think that this mattered, so—as the money was urgently needed to pay the rents of her various pensioners—she did so. The style of the stories is so different from that of Nin's normal work that I suspect Miller to have taken a large share in the actual writing, but no one else has ever suggested anything of the kind….
Although most of the stories [in Delta of Venus] are just frankly aimed at sexual titillation, there is occasionally a seasoning of dry humour evident. The first story contains an account of a beautifully made rubber woman, with each aperture serviceable, which some...
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"Linotte" is the name [Anaïs Nin] gives herself as she signs letters to her father, Joaquin Nin, the Spanish composer and pianist. It is an old-world term for "finch" or linnet, and traditionally in French it means "scatterbrain," a girl with foolish ideas. Often at the end of a passage, especially one full of conflicts, contradictions and impossible dreams, Anaïs characterizes herself in that way. If she is writing directly to her father, she habitually ends by apologizing for her ideas of a "linotte."
The diary is almost a continuous letter to her father…. The purpose in writing these daily episodes in the letters is to reconvert the distant father to his family, to urge him to rejoin them in New York, and to stress her own longing for him….
This early diary anticipates the reconciliation later in France (told in Volume I of the "Diary"), and the passionate love she established at that time with her father. It will be obvious to most readers that this paternal relationship is the basis of Anaïs Nin's attitude toward men and toward love….
Young Anaïs herself is fascinated by the role of the diary in her life, as she feels herself torn between two worlds: the one in which she lives day by day, and that same world as it is transmuted into her diary sentences. Already she is aware of what the act of writing means for her. This act she will call in the first volume of the "Diary" her "drug,"...
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Anaïs Nin's diary served as her mirror, her confidant, the only place where she was truly herself and scrupulously honest about even unpleasant truths. For those who are fascinated by every word of this ultimate diarist, [Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1914–1920] will no doubt prove an invaluable addition to the adult works, but for those less enamored, it can make uncomfortable reading. Perhaps it should have been left a mirror to oblivion, for its pages read like an unwitting exposure of a young girl's infatuation with extremes of feeling and with her own self-image as a suffering "dreamer"….
The mature writer's control and power are rarely in evidence; here the emphasis is on the intensity of her feelings rather than on the intensity with which the reader experiences what she describes….
It is interesting to compare the extreme subjectivity of this early diary with the relish for concrete detail apparent in the later ones but Linotte is worth reading more for its interest as an apprentice work than for its intrinsic value. (p. E6)
Nancy Pepper, in Book World—The Washington Post (© The Washington Post), October 29, 1978.
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By nature sensitive, introspective, and emotional, this intense and gifted young girl pours out [in Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin 1914–1920] the manic-depressive roller-coastering of adolescence in her daily tryst with her one friend, her diary. Arriving in an unfamiliar country, abandoned by the father whose love she craves, she tosses her crystalline, childlike impressions into a whirlpool of blossoming adulthood….
This amazingly precocious diary offers clearsighted evaluations of herself, already the analyst of dreams and feelings we encounter in her adult journals….
It's also a portrait of the developing young writer. She justifies the attraction her journal has: it's not only "unbounded egotism," she remarks perceptively, but a strainer, serving her love of truth and "a way of acting as my own teacher."…
[The volume's] special charm lies in the heartfelt outpourings of the girl-to-woman experiences of this sensitive soul. On the threshold of adulthood, she bids a wry farewell to this, her best friend, "… it looks as though nothing 'thrilling' is going to happen. I shall nickname you simply the Preface to the wonderful contents of another volume." And it is!
Carla Waldemar, "Nin's Preface to a Life's Work," in The Christian Science Monitor (reprinted by permission from The Christian Science Monitor; © 1978 by The...
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