Write Out Loud (Reviews and Writing)

“Sex for Nin is an entirely selfish thing…There’s no kindness. There’s literally no love-making because there’s no love.”

Anaïs Nin is recognised as one of the pioneers of erotic feminist fiction, seemingly taking the world by storm with her short stories here published in 1979. It’s a little odd because, by that point, there was a plethora of feminist fiction and well-established erotica. I’m not quite sure why Nin’s short stories caused quite the stir they did. Nevertheless, they did, and his collection remains as one of the classics.

But does it stand up now, nearly fifty years after publication and considerably longer after originally written?

A criticism often made of male writers (and as one, it is a criticism I take seriously) is that they can’t write female characters. It’s true that, very often, the male version of how a female thinks and feels bears no relation to reality. Shakespeare is notoriously awful with how he treats his female characters and how he portrays them. Hardy isn’t much better (his Tess of the D’urbervilles should be consigned to the dustbin of history or at least a locked cabinet, in my opinion). I could go on, but I’m in danger of digressing; the point is there is plenty of evidence to support this view.

What we have here with Anaïs Nin is a female writer who can’t write male characters. While there might be a case for saying that these males are subsidiary to the writer’s intention – bringing only their penises to drive the plot, it seems – nevertheless, there’s an awful lot of them that hang around for a lot of the time. You can’t keep on ignoring them.

There’s no doubt Nin is writing at a time of great sexual repression and writes groundbreaking stories that would have shocked and titillated in equal measure. And, as all literary writers should do, her stories are more about the themes and the unspoken aspects of life than they are about the sex described. Still, it is one thing to analyse a collection of short stories for their historical importance, and another to write a review which is more concerned about the here and now. Fundamentally: is it still worth reading Little Birds?

There are certainly some interesting moments. In Sirocco, you’re given not even a snapshot of someone’s life. It’s more like a blurred flash that could mean almost anything. That is, perhaps, the whole point. But you do come away wanting to know more and understand better. That’s a plus in my book.

There are difficult themes. Men are often paedophiles or have paedophilic tendencies, and these are treated with a neutrality bordering on pity rather than disgust. I recall even back in the 70s and 80s as I grew up that there was only the beginning of a wave of disgust concerning paedophilia and rape. There was very much a general feeling of ‘it happens and that’s just how it is so be ok with it’. I feel this is even more so with Nin, writing supposedly in the 1940s. The book actually published in 1979, two years after her death, and I can’t help but feel some of the fame came from the (forbidden) arousal many would have felt at the time.

Another difficult theme is the enjoyment of being raped. Several times – most graphically in The Woman on the Dunes where a woman is raped in a crowd while watching the execution of a man and is aroused by the experience – it is clear Nin is telling us about how some women want to be physically abused and raped. This is difficult stuff but something that continues to have truth to it today. The subject of sexual control is far more complex than society generally admits but Nin just lays it out bare. Uncomfortable reading, but honest.

But what comes across in these stories more than anything else is the selfishness and pathetic inconsistencies of people – a least in Nin’s world. These are stories dominated by people who are inflamed with lust one moment but then, after something usually small and insignificant happens, lose all interest in sex altogether unless something perverse happens that causes them to be ‘inflamed with desire’ all over again. These are caricatures of reality. People are not, generally, sexual demons; and certainly not ones that can be turned frigid through a single moment only awaiting somehow for being switched back on again later. Sex for Nin is an entirely selfish thing. There’s no desire to please the other person other than in some kind of subservience and usually with a view of being equally aroused by seeing the other person aroused. There’s no kindness. There’s literally no love-making because there’s no love.

What we get is cruelty. The sex itself is rather ‘vanilla’ (as I believe the term is these days) but the cruelty comes from one side or the other saying :‘Everything you desire is to be crushed. It is all about my desire, my control, my will, my timing.’ I do not understand this way of thinking about sex. There certainly isn’t anything titillating about it. Don’t get me wrong – I’m no prude and I can understand all the desires of bondage, cosplay, submission, stranger sex and a number of other kinks that are now better understood and accepted. As I say, the sex in these pages is all rather tame and conventional on the whole. But such kinks as I have listed are, from my understanding from those who engage regularly in them, performed with care and intimate respect for each other. Submission can be a truly sexy thing when both of you know it is something you both enjoy. But Nin’s stories are about power and in almost every case there is one person and one person only who comes out on top and wins while the other person genuinely loses.

Perhaps the most successful story is the longest in the collection – A Model. Here we see a variety of characters, each with their own story to tell. This is more fascinating but even here, we see different forms of domination and selfish cruelty. The story feels like a collection of different takes Nin couldn’t create enough material to make a whole story on their own, so bundled them together under the pretence of telling the life of the one titular girl. It almost works, nevertheless, but not quite.

So, overall, I can’t fault the expertise of the writing even if I don’t enjoy the almost perfunctory narration of the events (most of them sexual). Nin gives us some interesting thoughts and themes to pursue and analyse. But are the stories satisfying? No. Do the characters resonate with us? Again, no. Most of these characters are children in adult bodies. Petulant, demanding and a little bit pathetic.

At the moment, I am considering writing some erotica, having only ever put a tentative toe in that genre in the past. I’m horrified by how awful current snuff like Verity is (and I wouldn’t be surprised if that book ends up in the Bad Sex in Fiction Awards eventually) but find that Little Birds swings completely the other way. Are the only choices 50 Shades mom porn or literary boredom? Worse, can I avoid the extremes myself? There are arguments to say that sex is both so wonderful and intimate while also being so messy and silly that the best thing to do is not write about it at all. This may be true, but then we are denying a major driver in the life of human beings worldwide and throughout history. I don’t know if there is a way to write sex well while also just writing damned good fiction. I just know that this isn’t it.

My Verdict:

Social Entrepreneur, educationalist, bestselling author and journalist, D K Powell is the author of the bestselling collection of literary short stories “The Old Man on the Beach“. His first book, ‘Sonali’ is a photo-memoir journal of life in Bangladesh and has been highly praised by the Bangladeshi diaspora worldwide. Students learning the Bengali language have also valued the English/Bengali translations on every page. His third book is ‘Try not to Laugh’ and is a guide to memorising, revising and passing exams for students.

Both ‘The Old Man on the Beach’ and ‘Sonali’ are available on Amazon for kindle and paperback. Published by Shopno Sriti Media. The novel,’The Pukur’, was published by Histria Books in 2022.

D K Powell is available to speak at events (see his TEDx talk here) and can be contacted at dkpowell.contact@gmail.com. Alternatively, he is available for one-to-one mentoring and runs a course on the psychology of writing. Listen to his life story in interview with the BBC here.

Ken writes for a number of publications around the world. Past reviewer for Paste magazine, The Doughnut, E2D and United Airways and Lancashire Life magazine. Currently reviews for Northern Arts Review. His reviews have been read more than 7.9 million times.

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