The misogynistic bullshit of it all...astonishing. I think I figured that a man deemed fuckable by Anaïs Nin would have some flourish about him, but this was a terrible read. I can wholly recognise that by the standard of 1940 to publicly talk about sex, with the intent to promote a more liberated enjoyment of it, is a daring thing. But why declare this to be a classic and not just a historical document? It's beyond me. Miller seems to look at sex embedded in a rather misanthropic worldview, paired with heaps of sexism, classism and the n-word. And I get why in 1940 one would be fed up with the state of things, but to qualify as an "uncompromising literary manifesto" (borrowed from the Penguin Modern Classics 2015 edition) I sure expected the demand of the manifesto to have more depth and care (dare I say, fun?) for its subject. But no, in the exclusively male PoV analysis of heterosexual relationships only, women are described in vile language and dependency to men and I wouldn't wish this read on anybody.