Below is a preview of the original version of a short essay/reblog-post that I first published online in early 2015 on my “throw-away” blog, Stuff and Things, a defunct site which I’ve probably mentioned in other posts here on The Grand Tangent. This article/essay has since been updated several times: the preview below does not reflect the current text and its appearance, but by following the link to the full article/essay you can find it as it today (February 29, 2024) appears on said Stuff and Things (“throw-away”) blog. You can also view the most recently updated version of the article/essay on my Medium page, where I have since posted it. (Additionally, if you enjoyed reading this particular work you may well find the (only) other essay I published on Stuff and Things, “An Inspiring Passage by W. Somerset Maugham” (likewise posted in 2015) worth a gander.)
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ES (VSC)Vincent St. Clare
NOTE: Updated on February 25, 2016.
Henry Miller (1891-1980) was one of the more unorthodox writers of his time. He’s also something of a personal inspiration to me.
Any half-decent reader is aware of the man… but, then again, who could forget him? He’s known for leading a rather odd, and yet edifying, life, and is also ubiquitous for the development of the modern autobiographical novel.
Arguably his most famous book, Tropic of Cancer (first published in 1934) is one such work. The novel, considered obscene for its candid and humorous expressions of sexuality, was banned in the United States until the 1960s.
The highlights of this book (like many of Miller’s, including Black Spring and Tropic of Capricorn—both recommended) are, however, not Miller’s comedic sexual escapades, but rather his unique brand of non-confessional mysticism—a sort of artistic metaphysics.
Miller was something of a secular prophet, a clownish spiritual guru who taught that the pleasures of life…
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