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Yes, Anais Nin describes doing some things that we find disturbing. (Regarding the abortion, back in those days when very little was known about the fetus, late-term abortions were common and there was no moral dilemma. We simply can't judge her by our modern understanding. And as for her bizarre relationship with her father, one again would need to understand the context, the extremely complicated history from which the behavior arose.)
So enough of the judgments of Anais Nin's descriptions of her own behavior (does she get points for honesty?) and take a look at the writing. I simply defy anyone to describe such strange events with as much brilliance and poetry. Nin's writing is like a ballet on ice; it is stylized, feminine, passionate and strict at the same time. Who else could divulge the darkest secrets with the delicacy of a geisha serving tea?
Some day Nin's achievement will be recognized by the literary establishment. In the meantime, if you don't count yourself among the squeamish, judgmental, or easily disturbed, buy this book.
I read the journals of Anais Nin not because I identify with her, or even sympathise with her, but because I enjoy the way she makes every small event of her life seem like something elevated and rife with meaning. I am fascinated by the lurid details and by the paradox of all her affairs, were these men sexually abusing her, or was she using them? It seems, somehow both.
And there's a little bit of teenage angst still lurking inside me that was never cured. The part of me that still listens to the Smiths and loves Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton adores Anais Nin and her glorious tragic screwed-upness.