On Reading Henry Miller

He must be the perfect imperfect companion

For these sorry, solitudinous times:

A depressed maniac, a starry-eyed pessimist,

An amorous, anarchistic, aberrant formalist.

Follow him, reader, as he blesses the splendors

Of Paris while ruefully scamping about,

Scrimping and scrounging for morsels and bivouacs,

Drinking Anjou, sipping Pernod,

Yet painfully famished, raving with ravishment,

Blunt, with his brutal fatality evident.

Speak to us, Henry! Reel off the woes . . .

Ours are midges compared to yours.

Reviews

[Soot]

I guess everyone see in his writing something different. For his writing is full of optimism with realistic observation of human nature. His honesty can sometimes hurt but it's hurting with healing impact. He was man who wrote how he lived. By the way I think Boris was quiet pessimistic.