Friday 15 February 2013

Review: Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer"

When looking for a book to read I like to find one which caused a bit of a stir when it was released. If it offended some people, got banned in a few countries and generally split the critics right down the middle, half saying it was genius the other half claiming it was depraved I want to read it. This is partly due to the normal "I want to see why everybody's getting so angry" reaction but also because I find books that really divide people are the ones which you end up loving the most or hating the most. "American Psycho", "The Wasp Factory" and "The Satanic Verses" are among my favourite books of all time and they all caused an uproar at the time they were released. So, naturally, when I saw that similar allegations of perversion and moral degradation were being made of Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer" I was intrigued but with it being written in 1935 I was dubious as to how bad it could be.



Truth is, by today's standards, it has become somewhat tame. Not in an "aww look at the pretty kitty" kind of way but it's not exactly a lion liable to tear your throat out at any given moment either. Think more along the lines of a stray cat who might enjoy some fuss and attention one minute and then claw the hell out of your arm the next. Those with thick skin will find the novel's sexual talons and its four letter fangs barely scratch the surface but anybody who is a little squeamish when it comes to sex and graphic descriptions of body parts probably won't enjoy this one.

If you haven't been put off yet though I suggest you give Miller a chance because he is a literary craftsman, a stylist who embodies some of the best traits of the Modernist tradition, fusing "artistic" and "vulgar" language in a virulent manner that infects the reader and leaves you stumbling through his scenes like you're in a fever dream. 

The plot (well as much of a plot as there is) follows Miller himself in a semi-autobiographical romp through the highs and lows of Paris. Each chapter details a different episode in his adventures, slipping in and out of stream of consciousness style, which are in turns amusing, sordid and depressing as he struggles to make a living whilst clinging to the vain dream of being a novelist. The supporting cast range from prostitutes to fellow would-be, self indulgent artists to the rich and well connected and they all flow in and out of the protagonist's life like driftwood rushing through a turbulent river.

If a coherent story about a likeable character who struggles against adversity is your cup of tea then "Tropic of Cancer" isn't for you. Miller comes across as a manipulative scrounger who doesn't really give a damn about any of the people in his life and most of the other characters are just as despicable. It is a "warts and all" depiction of what life would have been like at the time and can get very unpleasant at times but ultimately it is the richness of the prose that continues to give this novel its classic status and it is on this basis that I highly recommend any fans of James Joyce, Samuel Beckett or Virginia Woolf  who are not easily offended to give it a try.

Rating: 9/10

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