No.6038
>Anaïs Nin
In the second volume of her unexpurgated journal, Incest, she wrote about her father candidly and graphically (207–15), detailing her incestuous adult sexual relationship with him.
Her first book of fiction, House of Incest (1936), contains heavily veiled allusions to a brief sexual relationship Nin had with her father in 1933: while visiting her estranged father in France, the then-thirty-year-old Nin had a brief incestuous sexual relationship with him.
>House of Incest
As was eventually revealed in the 1990s when the unexpurgated versions of Anaïs Nin's diaries were published, Anaïs Nin claims to have had an incestuous relationship with her own father during her late 20s. It has been claimed [by whom?] that this incestuous relationship was encouraged by one of her therapists, who suggested that in retaliation for her father's abandonment of her during her childhood, Anaïs Nin should seduce her father in adulthood and then abandon him. In theory, this was supposed to leave Anaïs Nin feeling empowered.
>The Diary of Anaïs Nin
>Incest: From "A Journal of Love" – The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin (1932–1934)
Published in 1993, This is the continuation of the story begun in Henry and June, exposing the shattering psychological drama that drove Nin to seek absolution from her psychoanalysts for the ultimate transgression. This portion of Nin's diary, which was cut from the expurgated editions published in her lifetime, records her steamy love affair with Henry Miller in Paris, but here her intense adoration gives way to disillusionment. She describes Miller as crude, egotistic, imitative, childishly irresponsible, "a madman." Her real focus, however, is her father, Joaquin Nin, a Spanish pianist and aristocratic Don Juan who seduced her after a 20-year absence. Her graphic account of their lovemaking and of her incestuous romantic feelings is fairly shocking. Nin sought absolution from her psychiatrist and lover, Otto Rank, who advised her to bed her father, then dump him as punishment for abandoning her when she was 10. Nin's ornate, hothouse prose is much rawer than the chiseled style of the expurgated diaries. She seethes with jealousy at Miller's wife June, swoons over poet and actor Antonin Artaud, neglects her protective husband, Hugh Guiler, and describes her traumatic delivery of a stillborn child. Her extraordinary, tangled self-analysis is a disarming record of her emotional and creative growth.