A “lyrical, impassioned” document of the intimate relationship between the two authors that was first disclosed in Henry and June ( Booklist ). This exchange of letters between the two controversial writers—Anaïs Nin, renowned for her candid and personal diaries, and Henry Miller, author of Tropic of Cancer —paints a portrait of more than two decades in their complex relationship as it moves through periods of passion, friendship, estrangement, and reconciliation. “The letters may disturb some with their intimacy, but they will impress others with their fragrant expression of devotion to art.” — Booklist “A portrait of Miller and Nin more rounded than any previously provided by critics, friends, and biographers.” — Chicago Tribune Edited and with an Introduction by Gunther Stuhlmann ANAÏS NIN (1903-1977) was born in Paris and aspired at an early age to be a writer. An influential artist and thinker, she was the author of several novels, short stories, critical studies, a collection of essays, nine published volumes of her Diary, and two volumes of erotica, Delta of Venus and Little Birds.  A Literate Passion Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller 1932-1953 By Anaïs Nin, Henry Miller, Gunther Stuhlmann Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company Copyright © 1987 Rupert Pole, as Trustee under the Last Will and Testament of Anaïs Nin All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-15-652791-0 Contents Title Page, Contents, Frontispiece, Copyright, Introduction, Letter, Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, Biographical Notes, Index, About the Author, Connect with HMH, Footnotes, CHAPTER 1 [Glion sur Montreux, Switzerland] Wednesday, Feb. 3, 1932 [Henry:] Dostoevsky in Siberia! Henry in Dijon! From my fortress up in the place of frozen instincts (the Swiss), where I am not trying to find sanity but the power to conceal my madness, I sent you a telegram which will make you laugh, and 150 frs. The telegram is not unwise. Resign, Henry, that place is impossible for you. Hugh* is coming here Friday and when he reads your letter he will understand perfectly. Listen, old straw-Krans won't mind because he has other men for the job. You were sent down there under false pretenses, too. They had no right to say you would get 500 frs. and when you are there to say you will not get anything at all. I am sizzling with indignation as I write. I read your letter while I took a walk this morning. You are unduly sensitive too if you think your friends were relieved to have the problem of "you" settled, Henry. I think everybody honestly believed you were going to be given the one perfect chance to write, for a while, to digest the prodigious life you lead — or maybe, to make others digest it. I said: "Come home to Louveciennes," at least temporarily. I know it is no solution because it is another form of exile, and you are not free enough, and the house is too far from Paris. I say that because it means temporarily a place where you are sure to eat and sleep. Hugh will try and find you another job. I said Wednesday because we will be home Wednesday, and also because I fancy you can't resign overnight. But if you want to run away from Siberia before, you can go straight to Louveciennes. Emilia [the maid] will be only too glad to take care of you. I'll write her a note today. Use our room. Perhaps Hugh has written you the same thing — I imagine not. Just as you know, when one is carried away the other must hold back, to create a balance, just as you hold back when June* is carried away. Dostoevsky got something out of Siberia, but from what you say, Dijon is not nearly as interesting. It is mesquin, meager, bloodless, small, petty. Don't stay there. Write me what you decide to do: Poste Restante, Glion sur Montreux, Suisse. Home Wednesday. This letter must get to you immediately, so I keep all I wanted to write you about you, June, and other things. If you come back, will talk, if you don't come back I'll write you a lot. Don't worry about the criticisms you give me. I love them and I believe in them. You knew I cut out that chapter on whimsicality in the book on Lawrence?† You made me realize its foolishness. Also, you are right about the analytical part in the second book. You're helping me. Anaïs Lycée Carnot, Dijon Thursday [February 4, 1932] I don't know where to begin! My mind is flooded, saturated with material. Alors, I got your letter, the telegram. First of all, bravo! I am immensely elated by the interest you take — and that is quite enough to sustain me. It will not be necessary to return to Paris, or Louveciennes, tho' certainly I deeply appreciate your hospitality. Let us reserve the occasion — there may come a worse day. For the present I feel sufficiently fortified to stick it out.... Perhaps I sounded like a crybaby. What a yawp I set up! Damn it, I wasn't supposed to fall into a bed of roses. So, if in the future I rave or rant, just set it down to literary ebull