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challenging emotional reflective slow-paced

2.5

“It isn’t strong women who make men weak, but weak men who make women over strong.”

I waited a couple of days to write this review just to make sure I wasn’t being rash in my conclusions.

Two days later, they remain exactly the same—this is one of the most annoying books I’ve ever read.

To be fair, connecting with a book is wholly dependent upon timing. I added this memoir to my reading list at a time when I was reclaiming my sexuality (that had been stolen from me by a conservative family and repressive society). Anaïs Nin, author of feminist literature and classic erotica, piqued my interest. If I would have read it then, there’s a very good chance I wouldn’t have gotten so annoyed and would have rated it much higher. I remember wholeheartedly believing in some of the same justifications she espouses in the book. But, I read it at 56, when my brief polygamist phase is but a distant memory, I have evolved significantly, and I can recognize exactly what I am reading.

From beginning to end, the pages of this diary were covered with the emotionally indulgent blathering of a young woman absolutely overwhelmed by her daddy issues. She takes self-absorbency to epic proportions and is absolutely clueless as to her complete misunderstanding of the true meaning and experience of love. Her primary paramour (of many), the author Henry Miller, was no better.

To make matters worse, practically the entire book builds up to a certain event and said event is barely discussed before the book bluntly ends. Annoying.

I seriously considered adding this to my DNF list after just a couple of chapters, but it’s literary significance made me stay the course. Glad that’s over and done with!

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