The Miller's Tale
Jun. 20th, 2004 04:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eorI've nearly finished Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer. I had set it aside a long time ago and didn't pick it up again until recently. My primary conclusion is that the man puts way too much stock in female genitalia.
Now don't get me wrong, I like female genitalia. I find female parts quite delightful and attractive. Like their male counterparts they are amazingly adept at accomplishing their purpose. Just think about the complicated systems that are designed or evolved, depending on your philosophy, to provide procreation or pleasure, depending on how applied. They can look rather silly sometimes if you're going for pure aesthetics, but hey, you're talking about something that has to last much longer and be more durable than an Ipod.
But sometimes people try to attach an incredible amount of baggage to those human parts. I think that's like trying to hang Christmas ornaments on a palm tree and pretend it's an evergreen. They aren't inherently anything other than inherently built for reproduction and pleasure. They aren't inherently evil (either male or female). They aren't inherently dirty. They aren't inherently saintly, sacred, or holy either. How we act with them or toward them can make them all these things.
Henry, you want me to believe the female parts simultaneously symbolize the emptiness of space, the destruction of the world, all corruption, all life, etc. ad nauseum. I'm sorry, maybe if you kept it to one paragraph I might be inclined to indulge you. But going on for pages and pages of this literary masturbation is just too much. Get over it Henry. You're trying too hard to be a poet. You, who claim to be disregarding literature (the Gold Standard) and getting down into the streets, shouldn't be dragging us down into the metaphorical chasm.
If you're stranded on a desert island and have already drawn all you want on the sand, this book may be a way to pass your time. Or it could give you the motivation to swim 200 miles to find another book. Either way, to me it smells less like literature and more like low tide.
Now don't get me wrong, I like female genitalia. I find female parts quite delightful and attractive. Like their male counterparts they are amazingly adept at accomplishing their purpose. Just think about the complicated systems that are designed or evolved, depending on your philosophy, to provide procreation or pleasure, depending on how applied. They can look rather silly sometimes if you're going for pure aesthetics, but hey, you're talking about something that has to last much longer and be more durable than an Ipod.
But sometimes people try to attach an incredible amount of baggage to those human parts. I think that's like trying to hang Christmas ornaments on a palm tree and pretend it's an evergreen. They aren't inherently anything other than inherently built for reproduction and pleasure. They aren't inherently evil (either male or female). They aren't inherently dirty. They aren't inherently saintly, sacred, or holy either. How we act with them or toward them can make them all these things.
Henry, you want me to believe the female parts simultaneously symbolize the emptiness of space, the destruction of the world, all corruption, all life, etc. ad nauseum. I'm sorry, maybe if you kept it to one paragraph I might be inclined to indulge you. But going on for pages and pages of this literary masturbation is just too much. Get over it Henry. You're trying too hard to be a poet. You, who claim to be disregarding literature (the Gold Standard) and getting down into the streets, shouldn't be dragging us down into the metaphorical chasm.
If you're stranded on a desert island and have already drawn all you want on the sand, this book may be a way to pass your time. Or it could give you the motivation to swim 200 miles to find another book. Either way, to me it smells less like literature and more like low tide.
