Henry Miller
Henry Miller is the writer to awaken if awakening is what one needs. He has altered my life more than any other writer. He may as well be the first writer, if need be he is the only writer. Henry Miller is bombastically truthful, his words burn sheer gems of timelessness so that I have been confused if they came from a man. Yes! he is a man! The most human of men!
Tropic of Cancer, Tropic of Capricorn, Black Spring
“I want to put a scar on the world,” Henry Miller wrote. It is these three books that left a wound still healing. If it is Tropic of Cancer that Henry Miller best be known for, so be it! The words ring loud! They ring clear! To those who have the dial set, just add fire: Explosion!
Colossus of Maroussi, The Air-Conditioned Nightmare
Travel Books of the most expansive sense. Colossus to Greece; Nightmare to the States.
The Rosy Crucifixion series: Sexus, Plexus and Nexus
The one novel Henry Miller intended to write. Instead of one he birthed three. It was through the Crucifixion that I came to know the broader Henry Miller. Written around his years in New York, centered around his relationship with the mystical June Mansfield.
Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird, The Books in My Life
In addition there are numerous anthologies and collections, Best Works of, etc. that are excellent short tastings, fanatical rampages and well-voiced thoughts. It is in his later works — Big Sur and Stand Still Like the Hummingbird — that the serene Henry Miller shines. Here is a long quote from Max and the White Phagocytes, found in one such collection, albeit written bombastic in Paris.
Conversations with Henry Miller
Interviews with Henry Miller ranging from 1956 to 1977, three years before his death. Great as a collection of outside voices prompting different edges of the writer.
The latest Henry Miller news can be read at: The Cosmodemonic Telegraph Company. Kept by a Henry Miller reader, very steadfast and devoted to his cause.
· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·