I grew up in Hollywood, the son of an artist who knew writers and artists in Los Angeles like Anais Nin, Max Ernst, and Henry Miller.
As a child, I didn’t really appreciate them as artists; they were just Mom’s friends, but I do recall that they were each distinctive individuals with unique characteristics, particularly Anais, who was, like my Mom, probe to wear outrageously unusual clothes and jewelry letting everyone know that SHE was present. When they spoke English, they both spoke with French accents, but they usually spoke French to each other recalling their happier idealized lives in Europe.
I’m thinking of them this Sunday morning as I’m lying in bed, sipping my coffee and reading a delightful memoir entitled “Apprenticed to Venus. My Secret Life With Anais Nin” by Tristine Rainer.
This is not the place for a full-scale review of this book. I plan to write that after I’ve finished reading the book, and you can then read it in the Book Reviews section of this website.