The sex is boring. It is not erotic, certainly not romantic. More along the lines of banality. Tiresome. Accidental. Anecdotal. Taken a step further, because of Miller’s overt crudeness, one can’t help but to wonder if the writing would have really been much different if he had been writing about his lavatory habits. As to why Miller then wrote so much (tediously) about sex, and doing so in a matter of fact, dead pan style, that is up for interpretation. But it does need to be confronted because of the large percentage of Tropic of Cancer concerning itself with sex.

After consideration, I can’t help but wonder if sexuality was the final restraint within civilization from which Miller needed to liberate himself. Kenneth Rexroth cites Miller as the kid who doesn’t tell, but is seeing the Emperor’s new clothes, and makes every effort to note each embarrassing inadequacy the King attempts to cover with his privileged attire. And Miller largely lived a primitive life which ignored the conventions that have established modern civilization: the State, nationality, economics, religion, marriage, community, what have you. All were up for his degrading attack. Yet, there always remained his relationships with anonymous women, this he would not give up. Perhaps by lowering sexuality to its most simplistic form, Miller would, in turn, free himself from the social constructions which surround it? To peer into the very center of the sexual act to possibly see past it all together?

In a sense, it could be said he did because while Tropic of Cancer is largely about Miller’s sexual exploits while scraping together a meager existence on the streets of Paris, it is also a book about his development as an Artist, one who defines and creates his existence through his work; Author rather than a mere writer. The sexuality, while often directly obscene (at least, how it was viewed in the 30's when T o fC was published), is also subtly tinged with tragedy. Partly because of the lack of fulfillment from the encounters, but also notable when the writing carries over into the desolate Parisian strolls that are documented with melancholy and barren aloneness, where in the winter, fatigue is hung from the skeletal nakedness of the trees, and in the summer, nothing but a mire of moldering grotesqueness. But while withering away in a self imposed destruction, Miller heroically rebirths himself through the writing. The self reflective thoughts and musings Miller is prone to take on increasingly greater force and establish a psychological framework upon the cancerous ruins which he sees in established civilized structures.

And this is the main reason why anyone with an interest in literature should read Tropic of Cancer. Straight from the barrel out of page one, the writing projects instantly with the urgent force that is more typically found in great poetry. Even if the stories are repeatedly going nowhere, Miller’s words move with uncontainable imaginative flare, and done not so much with the intent to impress the reader but to ratify Author. If this is not initially apparent, it is when Tropic of Cancer delves into chapter long asides that blend Miller’s surreal poetic prose with his deconstructing thoughts towards assumed customs, eventual heralding the artistic imagination above all. A reader might not agree, even be offended at some of Miller’s suggestions, but can’t deny the compelling qualities of the book. Need it accomplish more?

Karl Shapiro provides a fantastic introduction to Tropic of Cancer. In which, he advises that he often reads Miller by simply picking a random page and then always finding a jewel that makes the time rewarding. Good advise. I would only add to it the need for a well filled ink pen for the copious underlining that will surely follow. As to whether Miller ever does triumph over sexuality, consider what he wrote in a later book, “The human heart cannot be broken.” Compare that with the mountain of illusions established about love and sexuality-- whether it be the sentimentality of pop music, the turgid psychology of conservative religious beliefs, or the bizarre mating rituals found on Jersey Shore-- and the real obscenity should be quite clear.