To refer to Henry Miller’s oeuvre as erotic literature is a severe misconception. End of discussion.
Sexus, the first volume of his The Rosy Crucifixion trilogy, is an ode to life. Miller ingeniously
shifts from the most ordinary side of life to the most poetic and passionate
statement. A big part of what you can read here is autobiographic and that’s
why you can feel the power of every single word of his. He may have been an
incorrigible bohemian but he was authentic. The story of his hedonist pursue
for antidotes to a monotonous life was originally published in Paris, where he
was living at the time, during the year 1949 but got censored in the USA and
Great Britain for nearly twenty years. This first volume deals with his
marriage with Maude during the 20’s when he was still in the USA. Later he gets
obsessed with the mysterious and promiscuous Mara. In between the
autobiographic episodes Miller addresses a bunch of philosophical issues, such
as love and happiness with an unusual acumen.
It’s Sunday so stop whatever you’re doing and give in
to the useless art.
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