I've been reading 'Henry Miller: The Paris years' by Brassai (again).
This book always lifts my heart. Its a beautiful account of Miller's adoption of Paris as his spiritual home after he arrived there for the second time in 1930.
His first trip had been with his wife and had been more of a tourist jaunt than an immersion in the street level bohemianism that Miller was later to explore in all its degradation, poverty and poetry.
When he arrived for the second time, nearing the age of 40, he was a different man - a psychic sponge drinking in everything Paris had to offer: literature, art, architecture, food, eccentric new friends, the cafe culture, endless explorations of the more colorful arrondissement's, and of course the women.
And all this while living on a pittance provided by various handouts from friends and relatives, or scams perpetrated with his close chum and 'cultural guide' Alfred Perlés (appearing under various guises in Miller's writing - Perlés was called 'Carl' in Tropic of Cancer).
But for all the hardships and precariousness of his existence at that time, as Miller himself famously wrote at the start of 'Tropic of Capricorn': "I have no money, no resources, no hopes...I am the happiest man alive."
Miller had to live like a vagrant to finally find his voice, to discover his literary soul.
As Blaise Cendrars said:
"Discovering Paris, breathing Paris, devouring Paris, he swallowed furiously, and ate it, then he wanted to vomit in it and piss against it, adore it and curse it until he felt he was part of the extraordinary people in the streets of this great city, until Paris had gotten under his skin and he knew from that day forward he could never live anywhere else."
Miller Himself wrote:
"There had to be a second time, a time when I was totally broke, desperate, and living like a vagrant in the streets to start to see and to live the real Paris. I was discovering it at the same time I was discovering myself."
Brassai is of course a brilliant commentator, a sublime chronicler of that scene in his legendary photographs, but also in his literary descriptions of bohemian Paris, both architecturally and socially.
Brassai's account of Miller's Paris is a Flaneur's guide and homage to the art of walking...and getting by with a little help from your friends.
This is beautiful:
Excellent post about Henry Miller and Paris... I learned something new and interesting. I wish I would have a "spiritual home" also. I am still looking for it. I enjoyed every word in your post, its flow, its longing for something we are always missing. There is something about your writing that makes me feel good about life and about myself.
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoy my stuff Kaya.
ReplyDeleteI have developed a deep interest in Miller's writing over the last few years.
I like the way he spins off into digressions and metaphors. And there's always the strong spiritual element in his work too, he has a lot of generosity for people and is full of good advice.
Compare him to another 'biggie' like William Burroughs for example - I love Burroughs but he's very cynical and often cruel, Miller always offers hope like a favourite Grandad LOL.
A great one volume sampler of his work is The Henry Miller Reader, Edited by John Calder.
His essay called 'On turning eighty' in that book should be on every high school reading curriculum.
The guy who first befriended Miller in Paris was actually Alfred Perles by the way, Cendrars came later, I've edited it now just in case Miller obsessives come knocking on the door.
H