Download Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller
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Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller
Download Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller
Sie nicht Ihre Meinung ändern, wenn Sie Leseroutine haben zu planen beginnen. Diese Routine ist eine ausgezeichnete und wunderbare Routine. Sie haben es mit den effektivstenen Publikationen zu beleben. Viele Publikationen offenbaren sowie dort außergewöhnliche Inhalte auf jede Kategorie, basierten liefern und auch Themen. Auch jede Veröffentlichung hat unterschiedlichen Geschmack zu schaffen; sie werden sicherlich viel besser Problem geben, wenn möglicherweise ausgecheckt. Das ist genau das, was macht uns glücklich existent Tropic Of Cancer, By Henry Miller als einer der Führer zur Zeit zu überprüfen.
Produktinformation
Taschenbuch: 320 Seiten
Verlag: Grafton; Auflage: New edition (Mai 1965)
Sprache: Englisch
ISBN-10: 0586018123
ISBN-13: 978-0586018125
Verpackungsabmessungen:
17,6 x 11 x 2,2 cm
Durchschnittliche Kundenbewertung:
3.9 von 5 Sternen
21 Kundenrezensionen
Amazon Bestseller-Rang:
Nr. 251.208 in Fremdsprachige Bücher (Siehe Top 100 in Fremdsprachige Bücher)
I know of no other writer who makes words truly live like Henry Miller does. "Cancer" is his best (although the neglected "Colossus of Maroussi" runs a close second), full of enthusiasm, rampant lust-driven adventures, a man living though it rain crocodiles, a visionary portrait of a person determined to live in this cracked and dying earth that will drag you down and suffocate you if you let it. Living has nothing to do with money. It has nothing to do with prestige, nothing to do with a career, with laws or codes or good sense. It has everything to do with sex, with art and inspiration, with creativity and the fire at our heels, the hunger that gnaws us from the inside out. My friends and I had a joke: "What happened in the bidet?" "Read the book!" Unfortunately I think they only knew because I told them. I carried this book around, and his others, for months, enraptured, exhuasted, tormented, joyous, breathless, during a very bleak period of my life. He kept my imagination alive. The first time I tried to read it, just after the 1990 film "Henry & June" I didn't get it. About a year or so later I tried again, and ate it up. It was like I had a tropic of cancer-sized hole in my head and I'd finally found the missing piece. No other book, except maybe "Naked Lunch," has made me realize that literature IS life, that my heart could be enlarged by one, that reading and writing weren't just hobbies or exercises--they were raw and painful necessities, as vital as breath, as flesh, as rousing and invigorating as sex at 3am that lasts til dawn. I love all kinds of writers, but I have to admit, I'm kind of a snob. To me, the real writer is one like Henry Miller, like Rimbaud, like Poe, the ones who live at the fringes of madness, who in poverty and tatters show us that it's life, and life only.
When I tell you that the spiritual climax of the book occurs on pages 246-258 (of a total of 318), and that it involves Miller's apocalyptic vision of the universe gained while staring down the barrel of some whore's genitalia, you're going to know instantly whether this book is for you. Endlessly imitated, never duplicated, Miller's "classic" resists being for the many. The self-absorbed protagonist, a horrid little man (-- Can you hear Maggie Smith saying that? --) spends his life descending into the maelstrom of his existence to hone his own sense of nihilism. As his unwitting and unwilling observer, I was not thrilled (titillated? Don't make me laugh). But, hey, if you like this stuff... Tell you what: Read the first three pages. Stop and decide whether you can buy in to Miller's perspective. If not, stop there. It doesn't get any better. Well, perhaps the vision...
The uncensored autobiographical adventures of young wannabe writer Henry Miller in 1930's Paris, "Tropic of Cancer" is an important document in the history of literature, if only for the infamous (and quite stupid, if you ask me) book-banning crusade it inspired. It wasn't quite as innovative as a lot of people have claimed, though. It strongly resembles "Hunger" by Norwegian novelist Knut Hamsun (one of Miller's favorite writers and an acknowledged influence on his work), with the difference, of course, that Miller makes absolutely no concessions to public decorum.Miller doesn't have the remarkable ability to describe psychological states that distinguished early Hamsun, or his nicely limpid style. Instead, he's fond of unleashing lots and lots of baroque philosophical bombast upon the page, which sometimes gets tiresome. "To fathom the new reality it is first necessary to dismantle the drains, to lay open the gangrened ducts which compose the genito-urinary system that supplies the excreta of art." Uh, whatever you say, Henry.... Largely due to outpourings like this, the protagonist remains a somewhat shadowy figure. We hear much about his homegrown philosophy--not to mention his escapades with prostitutes--but you wouldn't be able to recognize him on the street. Never has anyone said so much about himself while revealing so little.It may be that I simply became used to Miller's flamboyant prose, but this book seems to get better as it goes on. Certain parts have a raw beauty; Miller very convincingly portrays what it means to live without hope but also without despair. As a paean to Life, it is both maddening and touching. Perhaps Miller, fond of the warts-and-all approach, wanted it that way. And if he is right when he claims, late in the novel, that a book with only one great page is still worth reading, then there's certainly enough here to make the trip worthwhile.
What Henry Miller performs with that work, has not any parallel in modern world literature. Bravely, spontaneously, resolutely he faces the life as a Bohemian and so earns the fruits of a fascinating world: the reality. Thoughts are even bubbling out of Miller, having a positive outlook and ceremony on life. Sty- listically excellently written, occurs a continual union of reality and great wishes. Miller uses high-realistic sketches of his surroundings and links them skilfully with the irrational descriptions of his own ideas. A chaotic life of emotion you absorb to transform it into reality.In my opinion it can be seen as the essential meaning of this book. Besides, the appearing persons are not mentioned to be completed but to allow Miller to realise them in joy, pity, love, faithfulness, belief, jealousy and thousands of other interhuman feelings. It seems to be the second important meaning:Realise yourself through the others !Miller writes only about the essential things of life: love, sex, art, drinking, friends and vices. He just doesn't preach them, he lifes them. In this work is a life enjoyment expressed that does not know any compromises or constraints. Moreover it is a revolt to a prude society, it wants to show a new way.Who takes offence at this book, should prefer spending his rou- tine in grey offices, banknotes and stress.
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