Henry Miller: Tropic of Cancer
Ah, the infamous Cancer!
On of the greatest novels ever written in the opinion of your humble Poeta-che-mi-guidi-Team.
Hymnic, hilarious, absurd, a symphony blasting through the gutters and over rooftops, one of the best books ever written about Paris, an expat-tale to end them all, a love story, a Zen explosion, a singing exploration of the human condition at the very core of existence. Banned for 30 years in the US, kicking everything in the arse that had been considered decent and literature up to this point and changing it forever. A revolution, a meditation, a diary gone wild, a mind trip, a halluciogenic experience.
More than anything: an infusion of life. No matter how often you read it, it never gets old.
So. Do it. Read it. I mean, in case you haven’t already. If you have, read it again.
Because really, what will you miss if you do? Some Facebook status updates and Netflix binging.
You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
“It is now the fall of my second year in Paris. I was sent here for a reason I have not yet been able to fathom.
I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am. Everything that was literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written, thank God.
This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, defamation of character. 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 … what you will. 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…
To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing.”
“In 1961, when Grove Press legally published the book in the United States, over 60 obscenity lawsuits in over 21 states were brought against booksellers that sold it. The opinions of courts varied; for example, in his dissent from the majority holding that the book was not obscene, Pennsylvania Supreme Court Justice Michael Musmanno wrote Cancer is “not a book. It is a cesspool, an open sewer, a pit of putrefaction, a slimy gathering of all that is rotten in the debris of human depravity.”