Tropic of Cancer

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Summary: Burroughs's Interzone is Miller's Paris.
Review: "Tropic of Cancer" is a book that needs to be read quickly, not to make an end of the task, but to get the full exuberant effect of the narration. Its pacing is restless and energetic, which is all the more amazing considering that it has no plot. I don't know how much of it is fiction, but it is obviously autobiographical and reads like a memoir, detailing its author's experiences living as an American expatriate in Paris in the 1920's.

Henry Miller is a bum (it must be admitted) living among the idle intellectuals in the seedier neighborhoods of Paris (might he have bumped into Hemingway?). He's not always unemployed; he takes temporary jobs like a proofreader at a newspaper and an English instructor at a Lycee in Dijon, and he always has a place to live, albeit filthy. Most of the time he's cavorting with friends, making new ephemeral acquaintances, visiting brothels, and engaging in the kind of promiscuity of which such a life avails itself, despite the fact that he has a wife back in America. He doesn't shy away from any of the disgusting details of living and loving -- in the novel's opening scene, he is shaving his roommate's armpit hair for lice, and believe me, it only gets worse -- but Miller thrives in the squalor and wouldn't have it any other way. Compared to his native New York, which he considers impersonal, cold, and hollow, Paris is warm and intimate, brimming with life and beauty.

"Tropic of Cancer" is very similar to two popular books that followed it by a quarter of a century: Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" in content (run-on anecdotes about outrageous activities with his friends, pulsating with waves of existentialist rambling, the main difference being that Miller is a much better writer than Kerouac), and William S. Burroughs's "Naked Lunch" in style (stream-of-consciousness narration using striking imagery in random juxtaposition). Miller possessed the spirit, if not the seed, of the Beat Generation -- his existence can be summarized in his self-description as "spiritually dead, physically alive, morally free."

This is also perhaps the book's greatest fault -- its influence outstrips its literary quality. It may not be a great novel, but it at least it's worthy of its reputation, which is more than can be said for a lot of popular books.

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Summary: Silly, Exasperating, Brilliant, Still a Bit Dangerous ...
Review: Henry Miller wrote a lot of books ... but they are all essentially the same, about Henry. An ex- of mine once said she wasn't sure if HM stood for Henry Miller or His Majesty.

Like all Miller's novels, the book contains some brilliant passages, but you'll have to slog through a lot ... a lot ... of self-absorbed ramblings before you get to them. But it's worth it just for the section of Van Norden's wanting to write something completely original, and Henry's missing of his wife. These sections are profound and true and wonderful and beautifully rendered. There's other good stuff, too, here and there.

Now, the dangerous part. Henry Miller made it fashionable to think you can be a bum/borderline sociopath, make fun of friends off of whom you live for your daily bread, avoid responsibilities and duties, and then publish self-indulgent ridicule about your dissolute lifestyle and derision of others and call it art. Fortunately, Henry was honest and talented enough at times to pull it off. And at times his writing raises to the levels of greatness. But he kicked off a school of writing that has been the destruction of more than one good writer.

Another novel written at the same time, and covering much of the same material (indulgent, pleasure-seeking expatriate meeting up with all levels of a society in crisis), is Christopher Isherwood's Good-bye to Berlin. (It's like, hey, Henry, did you even notice that at the time you were muttering about blowing up the world, the country next door was electing a madman who would try to do just that.) The difference is Isherwood is a masterful writer and artist, and manages to artfully play off his self-absorption so that the reader isn't immersed in it, like in Henry Miller. Isherwood also has class. (Isherwood's Down There On a Visit also covers a lot of similar ground, just better.)

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Summary: Henry is the shiznittle van widdle bittle skittle
Review: Henry is my god he is the best Ever go him and his writings.

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Summary: An unparalleled literary experience
Review: For those of you contemplating the leap across the bounds of"decent" society into the licentious domain of Henry Miller,allow me to preface your experience.

At its essence, Tropic of Cancer is an unmitigated bearing of the artistic human soul.

Oft-slandered, the book has been poorly misconstrued by the mass American public (who are perhaps a bit frightened by it). Others have attacked the erratic and spontaneous nature of the prose, failing to recognize the derivative brilliance Miller achieves with his reckless creativity.

Only after you have abandoned all pre-conceived notions of the conventional, well-mannered, plot-driven novel will you be able to genuinely appreciate the nihilistic, orgiastic, apocalyptic, meta-spiritual opus of counterculture that is Tropic of Cancer. In the brazen, veracious words of Henry Miller... "This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty... I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse..."

Rating:
Summary: Tropic of Cancer
Review: Since closing this book i have had a burning desire to travel to Paris...but not the modern day Paris; the 1930's Paris. Miller describes vividly the vibrant and jubilant Parisian atmosphere with it's incredible melange of aspiring artists, authors, whores, philosophers and down-and-out nobodies. Tropic of Cancer is also a fascinating intro-respective piece of literature as Miller reveals his own feelings towards the city and the many extraverted characters with whom he associates. Though miserable at times, largely due to his eternal struggle for food, Miller seems to adore this depraved, humble existance and does not allow his distressing financial situation to affect his rapturous spirits.

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Summary: henry miller rocks!
Review: henry miller is the best american writer of the 20th century. fitzgerald had more raw talent but miller used more of his. he abandons linear narrative and uses associative devices instead. he didn't read all that much, compared to joyce and pound and those fools, so his word choice is a little exotic at times, and he's wordy too, but he's damn good at it. i won't even talk to anyone now who hasn't read this book. miller makes it feel good again to feel sorry for yourself. he's one of the only writers you can read while starving and not getting all that much. read everything he's written, then go out and get drunk, but don't drive.

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Summary: A Henry Miller Novel...
Review: This is the first book by this author that I have ever read. My feelings? Deeply mixed. While this book is excellent with its poetic prose, insightful and introspective narration, and blunt facts told straightforwardly, it's also what many people would call a "Peice of Trash."
Why? Miller was, at times, a sexist, racist, idiotic buffoon who eventually would become more boring as the story progressed. Essentially, nothing really happens; the entire book is basically his run in with a bunch of prostitutes (Not told in the pornographic sense, fortunately) and supposed 'friends' that he would take advantage of.
Most of this novel is just bickerings and banterings on how much the world sucks; he talks frequently about how the human race is the 'Cancer which is eating up the mother earth' and how it is approaching its inevitable destruction. He describes, in excruciating detail, the slums of Paris and the slummy people who dwell there (him being one of 'em in a few parts). Not only does he do this happily, but he also drifts into a few parts that are simply nonsensical. However, this is only to be expected, seeing as how Mr. Miller was a surrealist in every sense of the word.
Most writers today owe lots and lots of gratitude towards Miller, for writing as truthful as possible and being as free as he possibly could. Disgusting and revolting details are not held back, and the infamous "C" word which banned this book from America for over twenty years, is used on almost every page.
Is it a good book? It's a nothing kind of book. Much like J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, it possesses a lot of social commentary and important facts; and like Catcher in the Rye, it's also a whiny novel. This is not a good book; and it most certainly is not a great book. As matter of fact, I would say it's incredibly overrated. There's so much fluff in this book it's sickening. Really.
However, it's not horrible. People should read this book, especially those whom have developed a taste for controversial and shockingly disturbing books. I'm going to read "Black Spring" pretty soon, and surprisingly, I find myself looking forward to it.
If you're weak at the stomach, don't pick it up. If you have an un-read Kurt Vonnegut novel or J.G. Ballard book lying around somewhere, read those instead. If you can tolerate a bit of a monotonous work that somehow manages to entertain at the same time, read Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer."

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Summary: A Total Experience
Review: Tropic of Cancer is clear, concise, crude, euphoric, base, philosophical, ecstatic, and immorally moral. It is written as the man lived his life. Henry Miller expresses life and people with a sharp eye and a sharper pen. He writes philosophy with the brilliance of a master making many of those praised men seem foolish and does it all with the language of a common man. Miller is not lofty. Miller is far from unknowable. He writes himself as a vagabond pop philosopher and violent lover. No other author can express such clarity of passion in his every word. Some may fault him for his jerky, somewhat erratic style of prose and the lack of flow throughout his writings. I have heard these comments before. But, Mr. Miller's works are not novels. They are not works of fiction. They need no crutch...a segue'. The writing is real, crisp, and does as I have stated already. It cries from the gut of life. I recommend it highly. I also agree with the other reviewer who mentioned The Losers' Club by Richard Perez, another strange, lively novel that I enjoyed.

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Summary: essential for all writers
Review: There are words that one comes across, ones that breathe life, ones that set millions of different thoughts into motion, scattering kaleidoscopically . With our minds never settling on one thing in particular. We live in them, some of us, and the end result being a feeling of emptiness. Then there are others, people that take them and run, Give their selves up to a wonderful reverie, and walk around as if unaffected by this horrid, hateful world which consumes most.

For them, the words of the masters, put just right, articulately, clearly, and read at the right moment... This is the launching pad for all great things to come. People who know that the words said are not to be held on high, something to cause a source of intellectual vanity and arrogance. People that know the words of the masters can be uttered by any one of us, at any time, if we only saw a little more clearly, had the courage to find that which is us and write what we feel down truthfully. Devoid of thoughts of ridicule, or finger pointing, singling out flaws that don't exist in the first place. Honesty works best, always, people seem to lose what that truthfully means somewhere.

All that is needed is a push, and the spark that turns into an inferno. But what sort of push, how do we encourage one who is on the brink of something great? There is no way to really know. Most are not all that receptive, they are in a seemingly perpetual decent. Into what? Madness perhaps, or anything in which the end result may be a breaking of ties with which is called society. From there he can soar on high, or go into depths seemingly unfathomable beforehand. It's up to the individual.

Everywhere we turn there is choice. One way to lead one's life, or the other. One is easy, one is painful beyond words. But which is the final choice? I assume all of us are confused at one point or another, when the question of what sort of person we really are comes up. And with good reason. The deeper we dig, the more we learn about the world in which we are a part of, the more confusing it all gets. It's almost impossible to think of a set way of behaving, yet we are all supposed to adhere to some set social laws. There is a limit, as I have found, in conversation. There are things one mustn't be allowed to say, or so it is implied. One can go too far. Yet if we are allowed to adapt to each situation, things become easier, but emotionally draining. At least for me.

This book, is filled with such words, one finds them on practicaly ever page. Some critics speak harshly of this work, say it's too self indulgent, goes to far, whatever.... but let us not forget, this is essentially why they are critics. For nothing less than lack of talent themselves. This book shows that there are no limits artistically, and is essential to anyone who seriously wishes to write.

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Summary: The Predecessor to Kerouac
Review: Tropic of Cancer is Henry Miller's seminal work and is sometimes compared to On the Road, though I think this is better than anything Kerouac wrote. Miller's work is existential and to that end it is one of the best works I've read. He lets the reader into his head in a surreal stream of conscious dialog. This book is a classic and has a place in contemporary literature because of Miller's ability to challenge established thought and censorship. For that alone this book is worth reading. Without the liberal use of the "c-word" this book is relatively unoffensive or at least unlikely to be banned. His use of that word in particular is both its hallmark and its least impressive quality. His use of it will challenge the reader, perhaps to be open minded, perhaps as a screen against the prudes and narrow-minded readers of the world. His work is similar to Kerouac in that you have someone able to capture their search for meaning in life. Miller delves into the subject far more deeply than Kerouac. Kerouac's search led him to travel across the US, while Miller's search was to a far greater extent internal. Although he travelled across the Atlantic, he really didn't explore Europe the way Kerouac explored the US. Although Miller's novel is set in 1930s Paris and Montparnasse, it really isn't a novel about Paris or even France. Rather, it's about Miller's ability to capture his thoughts and understandings seemingly as they occur to him. You get the impression that these thoughts are fleeting as they are woven into the story and as a result they become much more eloquent.