The thing is really lovely. It has a certain charm that catches the eye and makes one's heart flutter. However, for some reason, it is currently going on the backburner.

Perhaps there are other more pressing matters that need to be attended to first. Maybe there are circumstances that have led to this decision. But still, the loveliness of it lingers in the mind.

It's like a beautiful flower that is temporarily put aside, waiting for the right moment to bloom again. One can't help but wonder when that moment will come and when it will once again take center stage.

For now, it remains on the backburner, but its charm and allure are not forgotten.

Absolutely incredible use of language.

Not many can put words in such a beautiful order, I think.

However, probably would not like her as a person though.

The attitude of: "I'm the most empathetic, compassionate gift to the humanity; everyone is blind, only I can understand..." is completely obnoxious at times.

I understand that it's a diary, but it really comes across as a damn self-centered "pick me girl" kind of thing.

It's one thing to express oneself in a diary, but this level of self-aggrandizement and the sense of superiority is a bit too much.

Maybe she doesn't realize how her words might be perceived by others.

Or perhaps she is so wrapped up in her own world that she doesn't care.

Either way, it makes it difficult to have a positive opinion of her as a person, despite the beautiful language she uses.

This one is so different from the first journal.

There is a lot of chaos surrounding Anais due to the war. It seems like things are getting rough and sort of dark.

One can't help but wonder how the third journal will be.

Will it continue to chronicle the hardships and uncertainties of the war-torn times?

Or perhaps there will be a glimmer of hope and a turn for the better.

The anticipation is palpable as we await the next installment of Anais' story.

Each journal entry provides a unique perspective on her life and the events that are shaping her world.

It makes us realize the impact that war can have on an individual and how important it is to document these experiences.

Whether the third journal brings more darkness or a ray of light, it will无疑 be a fascinating read.

Hm non, je n'ai pas réussi à m'intéresser un tant soit peu à cette vie bourgeoise et imbue d'elle-même. This bourgeois life, which is so self-absorbed and seems to be content with its own status quo, has simply failed to capture my attention in the slightest. I find it difficult to understand the allure and the charm that others might see in it. It appears to be a life filled with routine and predictability, lacking in excitement and adventure. I long for something more, something that can truly ignite my passion and make me feel alive. This bourgeois lifestyle just doesn't seem to offer that. Maybe it's because I have a different perspective, or perhaps it's because I'm searching for something that goes beyond the superficial trappings of this kind of life.

When I placed an order for this book, I was under the impression that it was the Unexpurgated Diary, which would presumably contain all the steamy eroticism and sensual adventures of Anais.

However, to my great disappointment, the diary had been censored, and not a single word about Anais' love life could be found within its pages.

Henry Miller, during the time of his love affair with Anais, was a different man. But now, as he has grown older, he has become calmer. He no longer pursues women with such desperation and has instead developed an interest in Buddhism.

This is not the Henry that Anais was once in love with. And that's precisely why she found Gonzalo - a new asshole to fall in love with. Gonzalo was obsessed with revolutionary ideas and Marxism, yet he was unable to complete any task. He preferred to drink rather than take action.

Anais saw in Gonzalo a person she could assist, someone she could save. It was in her nature to take care of such individuals and, on occasion, fall in love with them.

The book may not contain any sex scenes, but it is evident that they had a sexual relationship, wild and mysterious, much like Gonzalo's eyes.

This book has left me with a strong desire to obtain the Unexpurgated diary and read the most captivating part of Anais' writing - the eroticism.

I went shopping at Myopic Books the weekend before Christmas.

There was a guy in front of me in the queue. He was purchasing Tropic of Capricorn for his girlfriend, or so I assumed.

When I saw what he was buying, I couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh, ours go together!"

It was a random and spontaneous moment. Maybe it was the holiday spirit that made me feel so inclined to say something.

I thought it was quite a coincidence that the books we were choosing had some sort of connection.

It made me wonder if there was a deeper meaning or if it was just a fun little encounter.

Either way, it added a touch of excitement to my shopping experience at Myopic Books that weekend.

3/5 stars.

Really great nuggets of prose can be found within these pages, especially when it comes to the exploration of womanhood. The author has a way with words that makes certain passages truly stand out and offer unique insights.

However, while the prose is engaging, I find that I still have a preference for novels over diaries. There's something about the structured narrative and character development in a novel that I find more satisfying.

That being said, this diary does have its charm and is worth a read for those interested in a more personal and intimate look at the author's thoughts and experiences related to womanhood.

Overall, it's a decent piece of work that offers some interesting perspectives, but it may not be everyone's cup of tea, especially if you're a die-hard novel fan like me.

Anais Nin is truly that "rara Avis" in the literary world. She manages to create a rather strange and complex blend of sexual degradation along with sexual idealization and sentimentality. It's quite a unique and perhaps even a bit puzzling combination.

To further illustrate her lack of good judgment, one only needs to look at her perception of Henry Miller. She actually regarded him as a genius writer. However, in reality, Miller is often considered an unfortunate and forgettable author. His works may have had some moments of interest, but overall, they don't hold up to the test of time.

As for Anais Nin herself, her writing can often come across as drivel. It's the kind of writing that might only appeal to 14-year-olds who are just beginning to explore the world of literature and haven't yet developed a more discerning taste. Her ideas and表达方式 may seem overly simplistic or even juvenile to more mature readers.

Not technically a 2025 read since I actually read _most_ of this book like a year ago.

Then, I got the ick from Nin's orientalism & racism, and had to take a break for a while.

But, goddamn. Goddamn, do I love an unhinged woman's ramblings.

Goddamn, do I find Nin's prose & approach to life irresistibly compelling.

This is the type of book that can fix you or make you worse.

And for me, I think it does both.

On one hand, her words have the power to heal and inspire, to offer a unique perspective on life and love.

On the other hand, her biases and prejudices can be off-putting and even harmful.

Nevertheless, I can't help but be drawn to her writing, to the raw emotions and unfiltered thoughts that she presents.

It's a love-hate relationship, but one that I'm willing to explore further.

Maybe in the end, I'll come out of it a better person, or maybe I'll just be more confused than ever.

But either way, I know that this book has had a profound impact on me, and that's something that I'll never forget.

Review here: https://corridoiolaterale.wordpress.c...

This review provides a link to an interesting article about Anais Nin's diary. The diary, specifically the second volume covering the years 1934 - 1939, seems to be the focus. It's likely that the article delves into the contents of this volume, perhaps exploring the events, thoughts, and emotions that Anais Nin recorded during that time period. Reading this diary could offer valuable insights into her life and the historical context in which she lived. The link provided allows readers to access the full review and gain a deeper understanding of this particular volume of Anais Nin's diary.

When the real self is born, the ego vanishes.

Hostility is jealousy. Destructiveness is a sign of impotence.

A human writer realizes that other human beings may be victims like himself and he should write with them against the aggressor, not become one.

Women will be the last one on earth to learn independence, to find strength in herself.

As a writer, I believe language has power.

Poetic illumination of life is equal to the love of life. One can be lonely in a world of ideas. Sadism is the judgement of others.

The conflict between my feminine self who wants to live in a man-ruled world, in harmony with men, and the creator in me capable of creating a world of my own and a rhythm of my own which I can't find anyone to share is a complex one.

Adventure, expansion, fever, fantasy, grandeur - these are the elements that allow one to sail freely in the realm of the dream.

Creation is taking sides. Art risks whimsicality.

In America, it is all about the survival of the tough. The sensitive and the tender are trampled down.

There is a confusion between individuality and the ego.

I will make my own world.

The cancer of introspection can be a hindrance.

The definition of human is mine is the one who is aware of the feelings of other human beings.

We should transform carbon to diamonds.

That is why he is in life, why he has acted in the world, risked everything, experienced everything. He throws his whole self into the present. Like a child, he has no memory of yesterday, no thought of tomorrow.

The artist, like Henry, is a gambler who saves his biggest throws for his writing.

Diarists are satisfied to record, while writers interpret, build, expand, and deepen.

Much that I have wanted for myself did not come true, but I suppose the day the creator wants something for himself, his magic ends.

The capitalistic world killed the artist in me. Gonzalo said, "I know the artist in him must have been very weak to be defeated by this obstacle at all. Limitations, restrictions, defeats, come from within. I am fully responsible for my own restrictions."

I met Jean Carteret. He is tall, thin, with pale-blue eyes, long straight light-brown hair. The upper half of his face is that of a poet, with a high brow and an air of spiritual illumination. The lower half is marked with pock marks, heavier and sensual, almost gross. His eyes, though pale in color, throw off sparks. When I opened the door, he saw me instantly. I felt instantly unveiled. His vision was even quicker than mine.

I have always been deeply in love with her diaries. They are like precious treasures that allow me to peek into her inner world, filled with emotions, thoughts, and dreams.

Each page seems to tell a story, and I find myself completely immersed in her words, feeling as if I am right there with her, experiencing every moment.

Now, I am about to embark on reading "House of Incest." I have heard so much about this work, and I am eager to discover what lies within its pages.

Will it be as captivating as her diaries? Will it take me on a journey through a world of mystery and passion? I can't wait to find out.

I know that reading this book will be an adventure, and I am ready to embrace it with open arms.

Who knows what new insights and experiences it will bring? Only time will tell, but one thing is for sure - I am excited to see where this literary exploration will lead me.