A short, but well-written erotica that shows the true complexity and subtly of Anais Nin herself. Nin reminds me much of Virginia Woolf, as she writes in the same disconnected and often thought-jumping prose that can be quite grating on the patience of first-time readers. She weaves a colorful, detailed, if not trite and shallow tale that reads more like a biography than a fiction. A fair read, but it's unlikeable protagonist slows down the novel's progress greatly.

You either like Anais Nin, or you do not. She writes of very black or white subject matter.