Tropic of Cancer

by Henry Miller

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In a word: disgusted

In a sentence: semi-autobiographical, Henry stalks around Paris, hating it, loving it, starving, in search of the next thing and a good lay.

Synopsis: Banned for its explicit sexuality and considerable use of the word “cunt,” Tropic of Cancer speaks to the specific Bohemian lifestyle of starving artists in Paris after the Second World War.

Reactions: When I began this book the only thing I knew was that it had been banned as porn. Although Miller has a particular proclivity for prostitutes, this novel is really porn for those of us who hate Paris. “Paris is a whore,” Miller writes, depicting not the sparkly Chanel Paris with its light-up toy Eiffel Tower, but Miller’s Paris: the Paris of liars, and muck, and disease.

In this novel-cum-memoir, Miller skulks through his time in Paris, restless, spitting one everything in sight. He embodies one of the worst combinations as a pretentious layabout. There is an interesting juxtaposition that he embodies here of creative parasite. He is a writer, surrounded by artists, but his focus is always on consumption rather than creation whether it be food, wine, or women. And yet, despite himself, it is clear that however dissociated he may be, he is a writer and deep thinker. Hidden between snide remarks and derogatories peek prose powerful enough to smack down even the worthiest reader.

Read if: you enjoy hard-hitting, tongue-in-cheek prose, or hate Paris.