Author Anaïs Nin recounts her conversations with two authors: her lover Henry Miller and Lawrence Durrell. She felt they had a problem with her being a woman AND author at the same time:
I can imagine the scene. Two boys beating a girl. They’re only teasing of course, but deep down they really don’t think any woman can become as good a writer as them; as any man.
I can’t judge Nin as a writer. I did read the introduction to her book of erotica maybe 15 years ago, but never got beyond the first few pages of her own diary. I was deep in bookphobia.
Miller and Durrell at least read her writings. But they lived in a time when women were not considered great at anything. And they weren’t really, because they never had the chance as they have in recent times. So when women like Nin appeared on the scene, they were dismissed as silly freaks. Like anyone who wants to break the world order.
Long live freaks.
