'A Spy in the House of Love' by Anaïs Nin

The name Anaïs Nin is one that is as evocative as it is exotic - born in Paris, Nin was of Cuban, Danish, French and Spanish origin. She spent the better part of her childhood in Europe before moving to the United States with her mother and two brothers after her father left the family for another woman. She later returned to Paris with her husband but left again in 1939 on account of the Second World War. In her life Anaïs Nin became well acquainted with many prolific writers and artists, all while writing and then publishing novels and short stories of her own. Later in life Nin lectured frequently throughout the USA and received an honorary doctorate in 1974 before passing away in Los Angeles in 1977.

A Spy in the House of Love was first published in the United States in 1954 and it follows a sexually liberated woman named Sabina as she navigates 1950s New York. Sabina devotes herself to enjoying the kind of sexual freedom previously enjoyed by men alone, sporting exuberant outfits and pursuing affairs with four different men without any of the trappings of commitment. Nin’s depiction of women as sex subjects as opposed to sex objects was, in 1954 at least, unprecedented, and this is possibly the main reason why A Spy in the House of Love is often considered a ‘modern classic’.

However, while I certainly appreciate the boldness of Nin’s subject matter and admire her intentions, I didn’t particularly enjoy this book. While Nin’s writing is undoubtedly unique it seems that the book as a whole relies on the beauty of a few select phrases to stay afloat. A Spy in the House of Love positively teems with wonderful imagery and metaphor, particularly that relating to the moon and, as the title implies, espionage, but the lack of any honest-to-goodness plot renders it a far from engaging read. Poetry fans will probably find more to love, but if you like your novels gripping and sharply written and impossible to relinquish then I would suggest that you give A Spy in the House of Love a wide berth. The only real problem with so-called modern classics like this one is that, while the subject matter may have been brave and shocking at the time, in the '40s, '50s or '60s, in 2012 it barely raises any eyebrow. I’ll have to read the much-lauded Little Birds to see if it can alter what is a most unenthusiastic opinion.

This piece was originally published on alisonlaurabell.tumblr.com in March 2012.