Title: Tropic of Cancer
Author: Henry Miller
Length: 318 pages
Year Written: 1934
Why I chose this book: A tattered, almost obliterated copy of this book was lent to me by my friend Kevin. I took it, but bought a copy on iBooks for ease of reading.
This was not a bad book, but it was a bad choice. As you can see, it has been a MONTH since I last finished a book, and it's December. This means that I have less than a month to read 20 more books. Fortunately for me, this is one of those challenges that you can still feel good about regardless of the outcome (kind of like running a marathon for charity or something like that). Plus, some people won't read 30 books in 30 years. Hmm. Anyway, I say this book was a bad choice because it certainly would be more enjoyable sans a hovering timeline. It is a book that provides profoundly meaningful tidbits, about life and the human condition, but not necessarily a quick and easily digested storyline.
Tropic of Cancer is one of those books I've always known of (perhaps initially through an episode of Seinfeld) but had no clue about its content. The only thing I knew, just prior to starting, was that it was initially banned, which is not a concept my modern mind can necessarily grasp. It turns out that Tropic of Cancer is a surly, kind of depressing, half-fiction account of author Henry Miller's nomadic life in Paris as a struggling writer. The novel is chock-full of dirt, both sexually and hygienically. Life for Henry Miller between 1930 and 1934 was apparently laden with lice, starvation, and whores. I later learned that he based many of his characters on people he knew in real life, including beastly poetic writer Anais Nin (who I read earlier this year, and now realize was probably writing about cheating on her husband with Miller). They apparently had quite the passionate affair that many speculate to have crystallized in his character "Tania":
"I am fucking you, Tania, so that you'll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately. I will tear off a few hairs from your cunt and paste them on Boris' chin. I will bite into your clitoris and spit out two franc pieces..."
More than the actual novel itself, I am fascinated with the circumstances that led to the novel's creation. I am blown away by the inspiration that two awesomely nasty writers shone onto one another in the nude and then onto paper. I'm also fascinated with the feeling of being a fly on the wall of some unintentional bigot's dilapidated Parisian quarters in the 1930s. The novel can be quite graphic, but honestly contains nothing more offensive than life itself. It has been heralded as the literary work that paved the way for our current freedom of expression in fiction. For that, especially, I am grateful.
Rating: 8.3/10
