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This review is from: Tropic of Cancer (Kindle Edition)
'I have made a silent compact with myself not to change a line of what I write.' We are supposed to be impressed?
Those Americans in Paris - wacko, eh? I'd take Miller over any number of Fitzgeralds and Hemingways and have relished his non-narrative writings, which are voluminous, but have always steered clear of his magna opera - the other, of course, being Tropic of Capricorn. Now I know why. I'm glad Miller still has a constituency but, as the lead review suggests, it helps to be young and confused*. Henry had a lot of growing up to do, and did it in public. Whether you find it hilarious or horrendous, this orgy of juvenile self-indulgence is probably best viewed as a period piece. I found it largely unreadable, and closed it out of respect for his memory. Give me the mellower Miller any day
* But reading the amazon.com reviews (what a great forum this can be!) you realise that for many confused (read: repressed; what teen isn't?) fifteen-year-olds this book was a lifeline, and for some it led to a lifelong love of literature. Today? They trawl for internet porn. Western civilisation? What was that?