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Mirages opens at the dawn of World War II, when Anaïs Nin fled Paris, where she lived for fifteen years with her husband, banker Hugh Guiler, and ends in 1947 when she meets the man who would be \"the One, \" the lover who would satisfy her insatiable hunger for connection. In the middle looms a period Nin describes as \"hell, \" during which she experiences a kind of erotic madness, a delirium that fuels her search for love. As a child suffering abandonment by her father, Anaïs wrote, \"Close your eyes to the ugly things, \" and, against a horrifying backdrop of war and death, Nin combats the world's darkness with her own search for light. Mirages collects, for the first time, the story that was cut from all of Nin's other published diaries, particularly volumes 3 and 4 of The Diary of Anaïs Nin, which cover the same time period. It is the long-awaited successor to the previous unexpurgated diaries Henry and June, Incest, Fire, and Nearer the Moon. Mirages answers the questions Nin readers have been asking for decades: What led to the demise of Nin's love affair with Henry Miller? Just how troubled was her marriage to Hugh Guiler? What is the story behind Nin's \"children, \" the effeminate young men she seemed to collect at will? Mirages is a deeply personal story of heartbreak, despair, desperation, carnage, and deep mourning, but it is also one of courage, persistence, evolution, and redemption that reaches beyond the personal to the universal.

Anaïs Nin made her reputation through publication of her edited diaries and the carefully constructed persona they presented. It was not until decades later, when the diaries were published in their unexpurgated form, that the world began to learn the full details of Nin's fascinating life and the emotional and literary high-wire acts she committed both in documenting it and in defying the mores of 1950s America. Trapeze begins where the previous volume, Mirages, left off: when Nin met Rupert Pole, the young man who became not only her lover but later her husband in a bigamous marriage. It marks the start of what Nin came to call her \"trapeze life,\" swinging between her longtime husband, Hugh Guiler, in New York and her lover, Pole, in California, a perilous lifestyle she continued until her death in 1977. Today what Nin did seems impossible, and what she sought perhaps was impossible: to find harmony and completeness within a split existence. It is a story of daring and genius, love and pain, largely unknown until now.

\"I remember my first birth in water,\" reads Anaïs Nin in her husband Ian Hugo's aquatic fantasy formed of \"hieroglyphs of a language in which our unconscious is trying to convey important, urgent messages.\" The mix of charged language and stunning abstract imagery and music moves the viewer towards -- to paraphrase Marianne Moore -- \"the lost continent within our selves.\" 16mm 1.37:1 color sound: acted & recited by Anaïs Nin from Nin's House of Incest; production, photography Ian Hugo; abstract color effects Len Lye, Ian Hugo; electronic music by Louis and Bebe Barron.

A short story is presented. (Reprint 1962)

Strange, darling, I knew something was wrong with your last letter—it was too good to be true, too fast and too fine—henceforth I shall take all your written pronunciamentos on your health with my usual amount of salt!! Got up early, gargled with soda, then mouthwash, then whisky, stood à la tête for a full ten minutes, then tried a little opera and in fine voice, waited for your call—no call—but just as well because I’d rather spend the money on Acapulco or a binge at Vegas. But the point of all the gargling was to

I was recovering from all the deep wounds of Bill Pinckard’s absence, of Gore Vidal’s unattainableness, of the disintegration of my love for Gonzalo. Hugo was away in Cuba, and I was going out with Bernard Pfriem, a vital, charming man who desired me but whom I did not desire. Hazel McKinley is a burlesque queen in private life who literally strips herself bare at her parties, and then the next day she informs all her friends of the previous night’s doings over the telephone. Hazel is blonde, very fat, weighing at least 200 pounds, a painter of childish watercolors

Rupert’s gift to me was a special, selected view of America. The nature was beautiful, full of variety and surprises. Canyons, marshes, fields, rivers, swamps, desert lakes. During that trip none of his dogmatic traits were revealed to me. True, he talked about a home, wife and nine children, but I did not believe him altogether. We played at my being the other woman, the foreign woman who would lure him away from his home now and then! I talked about my travels, the panorama of Europe paralleling America, sometimes created out of contrast, sometimes by association. Two warnings my

My first day back in New York: At nine I walk to pay an overdue hospital bill, to pay for the telephone, garage, grocer, stationery, drugstore, to get a typewriter ribbon for Hugo, labels, string, to open an account for Film Matters, to call for films at the Lexington Hotel. I talked with Bogner and Jim over the phone the second day, mailed films, filed bills, bought a present for Millicent’s daughter and new baby, wrote Rupert, fought a cold, got overhauled at Arden’s and restored at Jacobson’s (blood count 65%). The theme of December was anxiety and jealousy. Soon