"Tropic of Capricorn" by Henry Miller. Henry Miller Tropic of Capricorn Henry Miller Tropic of Capricorn

Tropic of Capricorn Henry Miller

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Title: Tropic of Capricorn
Author: Henry Miller
Year: 1939
Genre: Foreign classics, Counterculture, Literature of the 20th century, Contemporary foreign literature

About the book “Tropic of Capricorn” by Henry Miller

“Tropic of Capricorn” is a bright and memorable book. A strong mixture of autobiographical details and unbridled fantasy. Henry Miller is a cult author for several generations of admirers of high-quality, largely provocative prose.

“Tropic of Capricorn” is both an independent work and a kind of continuation of the novel “Tropic of Cancer”.

Setting: New York. Time of action: 20s of the XX century. The main character is a certain Henry W. Miller - a familiar name, isn't it? He works for a telegraph company and is in the process of finding himself as a writer. The plot of the book has much in common with the life of the author, but at the same time is based on fictional events.
This novel is a story of inner search and spiritual awakening. Miller immerses the reader in a dense narrative in which a place is found for absolutely opposite things: pleasure and poverty, suffering and immorality, squalor and nobility.

Henry Miller is a very original writer with his own unique style. At first glance, his prose may seem too complicated, but once you start reading, you can no longer be distracted. He writes about his thoughts and his special perception of reality, and does it so talentedly and convincingly that one gets the feeling that all the events he describes actually happened. Miller's creative style is a combination of pressure and poetry, philosophy and physiology. The book “Tropic of Capricorn” contains a lot of sexual scenes that serve as an example of the author’s boundless freedom, and at the same time it is somewhat reminiscent of the works of ancient philosophers.

Henry Miller's novel is a free journey alone with your heart without a specific goal. Reading this book will give you unforgettable emotions.

“Tropic of Capricorn” was written without the slightest pretense, with tenderness and cynicism, with bitterness and pain.

Miller's book is very intense and dramatic - a great gift for all lovers of intelligent prose.

On our website about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online the book “Tropic of Capricorn” by Henry Miller in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

[Verse 1, MOON]:
I fill the love between us with dreams.
Give me the answers, convey them in words,
Where is the ribbon of our love and in the languor of dawn
I enjoy your eyes like dreams.

Sweetly chained the soul with carefree days.
We will not disturb the peace, no one is next to us.
Show me the joy of coolness in the summer heat.

[Chorus]:

[Verse 2, MOON]:
I'm in an eternal dilemma. I don't want time
It flew by so quickly - I couldn't get enough of it.
The stars play with the sea, the night of love begins.
Come, starry evening - light the lights.

Restless sea, music on repeat.
The evening is lit with lights, at night the passion is between us.
Let's break away, taking off from the sandy Paradise.

[Chorus]:
Somewhere misfortune is suffering - separation -
Do not relieve it with pain, do not fill it with tears.
We are escaping from the planet - here is a straight road;
The Tropic of Capricorn will greet us with sunsets.

[Instrumental]

[Chorus]:
Somewhere misfortune is suffering - separation -
Do not relieve it with pain, do not fill it with tears.
We are escaping from the planet - here is a straight road;
The Tropic of Capricorn will greet us with sunsets.

About the song MOON - Tropic of Capricorn

• Ukrainian singer LUNA presents her fourth full-length release! On Christina's left leg, as you can see on the album cover, there is a tattoo that she got in November 2017, during the creation of Enchanted Dreams. As the Performer herself says, these eleven tracks will forever remain a love story that began in a dream and continued in real life. And it’s not in vain, every Work here is imbued with depth, sexy as hell, every note is in its place. There is so much soul and truth in these songs that for a moment it seems impossible, a real feeling of life here and now. Quote, MOON: “I’m listening to the album....and my soul is so warm because I had the opportunity to experience such feelings, filled with an unbridled flow of cosmic love, eternal as the Universe and unique as an instant... Straight from Alpha Centauri itself, a new round of the Artist’s Creativity comes to our ears.

Henry Miller

TROPIC OF CAPRICORN

To her

Human feelings are often more excited or softened by examples than by words. Therefore, after consolation in a personal conversation, I decided to write to you, the absent one, a consoling message outlining the misfortunes I have experienced, so that, by comparison with mine, you would recognize your own adversities as either insignificant or insignificant and endure them more easily.

BY OVARIAL TRAM

One day you give up, resign yourself, and even in the midst of chaos everything replaces one another with inexorable certainty. From the very beginning there was nothing but chaos, and chaos was the liquid that enveloped me, in which I breathed through my gills. In the opaque lower layers, where the even moonlight flowed, everything was smooth and fertile; higher up the squabbles and noise began. In everything I quickly found a contradiction, an opposition, and between the real and the fictional - a hidden mockery, a paradox. I was my own worst enemy. Whatever I wished for, everything was given to me. And even as a child, when I didn’t know the need for anything, I wanted to die: I wanted to capitulate, because I didn’t see the point in fighting. I understood that by continuing the existence that I did not ask for, you could not prove, confirm, add or subtract anything. Everyone around me was either a failure or, at best, a laughing stock. Especially those who are successful. Successful people bored me to death. I sympathized with mistakes, but it was not sympathy that made me like this. It was a purely negative quality, a weakness that blossomed at the sight of human misfortune. I never helped anyone in the hope of doing a good deed - I helped because I simply did not know how to do otherwise. The desire to change the order of things seemed futile to me: I was convinced that nothing can be changed without changing the soul, and who is capable of changing human souls? Friends cheated on me from time to time, which made me want to puke. I needed God no more than He needed me, and if I had found Him, I often said, I would have met Him very coldly and spat in His face.

The most annoying thing is that people, as a rule, took me for a good, honest, kind, exemplary and even reliable person. Maybe I had these qualities, but if so, it was only because I was indifferent to everything: I could allow myself to be good, honest, kind, reliable, and so on, because I did not know envy. I have never been a victim of envy. I never envied anyone or anything. On the contrary, I always felt sorry for everyone and everything.

From the very beginning I must have trained myself not to give in too much to desires. From the very beginning I did not depend on anyone, but it was a deception. I didn't need anyone, because I wanted to be free, free to do as my whims pleased. When they demanded or expected something from me, I resisted. This is how my independence manifested itself. In other words, I was spoiled from the start. It was as if my mother fed me poison, and the fact that she weaned me early did not save me - I was not cleansed from the poison. Even when she weaned me, I showed complete indifference. Many children express or at least feign protest, but I was at least okay with it. I've been philosophizing since the sliders. Out of principle, he set himself against life. From what principle? From the principle of futility. Everyone around was fighting. I never even tried. And if he created such an appearance, it was only in order to please someone, but deep down in his soul he didn’t even think about rocking the boat. If you explain to me why, I will reject your explanations, since I was born stubborn, and this is inescapable. Later, as an adult, I learned that it took a hell of a lot longer to pull me out of the womb. I understand perfectly. Why move? Why leave a wonderful warm place, a cozy nest, where everything is given for free? My earliest memory is cold, snow, ice on drainpipes, frosty patterns on glass, the cold of damp greenish kitchen walls. Why do people settle in indecent climate zones that are mistakenly called temperate? Because they are born idiots, slackers and cowards. Until I was ten years old, I had no idea that somewhere there were “warm” countries where you didn’t have to work hard, or tremble and pretend that it was invigorating. Wherever it is cold, people work until exhaustion, and, having given birth to offspring, preach to the younger generation the gospel of work, which, in fact, is nothing more than the doctrine of inertia. My family is a people of a completely Nordic persuasion, that is, a people of idiots. They eagerly seized upon any erroneous idea that was ever expressed. Including the idea of ​​cleanliness, not to mention the doctrine of virtue. They are painfully clean. But they stink from the inside. They never once opened the door leading to the soul, and never dreamed of a reckless leap into the hidden. After lunch, they quickly washed the dishes and put them away in the buffet; the newspaper that was read was carefully folded and placed on the shelf; washed clothes were immediately ironed and hidden in the closet. Everything is for the sake of tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present is only a bridge to the future, and on this bridge there are groans; The whole world is groaning, but not a single idiot will think about blowing up this bridge?

I often bitterly looked for reasons to condemn them and not myself. After all, I am also a lot like them. For a long time I set myself apart, but over time I realized that I was no better than them, even a little worse, since I understood everything much more clearly and yet did nothing to change my life. Looking back, I now see that I never acted in accordance with my will - always under pressure from others. I have often been mistaken for an adventurer - nothing could be further from the truth. My adventures have always been accidental, forced, flowing rather than realized. I am flesh and blood of this smug, boastful Nordic people, who have not the slightest taste for adventure, yet who have combed the whole earth, turned it upside down, littered it with relics and ruins. Restless creatures, but not adventurous. Agonizing souls unable to live in the present. Shameful cowards - all of them, including me. For there is only one great adventure - and this is a journey within oneself, and here neither time, nor space, nor even actions matter.

Every few years I found myself on the verge of such a discovery, but each time it somehow eluded me. And the only explanation that comes to my mind is that the environment itself is to blame: the streets and the people living on them. I cannot name a single American street - along with the people inhabiting it - that could lead to self-knowledge. I have walked the streets of many countries, but nowhere have I felt as humiliated and spat upon as in America. I think of all the streets of America together as a huge cesspool, a cesspool of the spirit, into which everything is sucked and drowned in permanent shit. And above this cesspool the magical power of labor erects palaces and factories, military factories and rolling mills, sanatoriums, prisons and insane asylums. The entire continent is like a nightmare, generating unprecedented misfortunes in unprecedented quantities. And I am a lonely creature at the greatest feast of health and happiness (average health, average happiness), where you will not meet a single truly healthy and happy person. In any case, I always knew to myself that I was unhappy and unhealthy, that not everything was all right with me, that I was out of step. And that was my only consolation, my only joy. But this was hardly enough. It would be much better for my soul if I expressed my protest openly, if for my protest I went to hard labor and rotted there and died. It would be much better if I, like the mad Czolzhosh, shot a certain glorious President McKinley, a certain gentle soul who did not bring even the slightest bit of harm to anyone. For at the bottom of my soul lurked the thought of murder: I wanted to see America destroyed, mutilated, leveled to the ground. I wanted this solely out of a vengeful feeling, as retribution for the crimes committed against me and those like me, who never raised their voice, never expressed their hatred, their protest, their just thirst for blood.

Tropics of Love - 3

Human feelings are often more excited or softened by examples than by words. Therefore, after the consolation of a personal conversation, I decided

To write to you, the absent one, a consoling message outlining the misfortunes I have experienced, so that, comparing with mine, you recognize your own

Adversity was either insignificant or insignificant and he endured it more easily.
Pierre Abelard*, "The History of My Disasters"**

BY OVARIAL TRAM

One day you give up, resign yourself, and even in the midst of chaos everything replaces one another with inexorable certainty. There wasn't from the very beginning

Nothing but chaos, and chaos was the liquid that enveloped me, in which I breathed through my gills. In the opaque lower layers, where the smooth flowed

Moonlight, everything was smooth and fertile; higher up the squabbles and noise began. In everything I quickly found a contradiction, an opposite, and between

Real and fictional - hidden mockery, paradox. I was my own worst enemy. Whatever I wished for, everything was given to me. And even as a child

When I didn’t need anything, I wanted to die: I wanted to capitulate because I didn’t see the point in fighting. I understood that by continuing

An existence that I did not ask for cannot be proven, confirmed, added or subtracted. Everyone around me was either a loser or...

At best, a laughing stock. Especially those who are successful.
Successful people bored me to death. I sympathized with mistakes, but it was not sympathy that made me like this. It was purely negative

A quality, a weakness that blossomed at the sight of human misfortune. I never helped anyone in the hope of doing a good deed - I helped

Because I simply didn’t know how to do otherwise. The desire to change the order of things seemed futile to me: I was convinced that nothing could be changed,

By changing the soul, and who is capable of changing human souls? Friends cheated on me from time to time, which made me want to puke. I needed God no more

What is He in me, and if I had caught Him, I often said, I would have met Him very cold-bloodedly and spat in His face.
The most annoying thing is that people, as a rule, took me for a good, honest, kind, exemplary and even __________ * Here and further, see

Notes.
** Translation by V. Sokolov.
27 reliable person. Perhaps I possessed these qualities, but if so, it was only because I was indifferent to everything: I could afford

To be good, honest, kind, reliable, and so on, because I did not know envy. I have never been a victim of envy. Never

I envied no one and nothing. On the contrary, I always felt sorry for everyone and everything.
From the very beginning I must have trained myself not to give in too much to desires. From the very beginning I did not depend on anyone, but it was a deception. I

I didn’t need anyone, because I wanted to be free, free to do as my whims pleased. When anything comes from me

They demanded or waited - I resisted. This is how my independence manifested itself. In other words, I was spoiled from the start. It's like my mother fed me

Poison, and the fact that she weaned me early did not save me - I was not cleansed of the poison. Even when she weaned me, I showed my full

Indifference. Many children express or at least feign protest, but I was at least okay with it. I've been philosophizing since the sliders. Out of principle

I turned myself against life. From what principle? From the principle of futility.

Henry Miller

TROPIC OF CAPRICORN

To her

Human feelings are often more excited or softened by examples than by words. Therefore, after consolation in a personal conversation, I decided to write to you, the absent one, a consoling message outlining the misfortunes I have experienced, so that, by comparison with mine, you would recognize your own adversities as either insignificant or insignificant and endure them more easily.

Pierre Abelard(1), "The History of My Disasters"

BY OVARIAL TRAM

One day you give up, resign yourself, and even in the midst of chaos everything replaces one another with inexorable certainty. From the very beginning there was nothing but chaos, and chaos was the liquid that enveloped me, in which I breathed through my gills. In the opaque lower layers, where the even moonlight flowed, everything was smooth and fertile; higher up the squabbles and noise began. In everything I quickly found a contradiction, an opposition, and between the real and the fictional - a hidden mockery, a paradox. I was my own worst enemy. Whatever I wished for, everything was given to me. And even as a child, when I didn’t know the need for anything, I wanted to die: I wanted to capitulate, because I didn’t see the point in fighting. I understood that by continuing the existence that I did not ask for, you could not prove, confirm, add or subtract anything. Everyone around me was either a failure or, at best, a laughing stock. Especially those who are successful. Successful people bored me to death. I sympathized with mistakes, but it was not sympathy that made me like this. It was a purely negative quality, a weakness that blossomed at the sight of human misfortune. I never helped anyone in the hope of doing a good deed - I helped because I simply did not know how to do otherwise. The desire to change the order of things seemed futile to me: I was convinced that nothing can be changed without changing the soul, and who is capable of changing human souls? Friends cheated on me from time to time, which made me want to puke. I needed God no more than He needed me, and if I had found Him, I often said, I would have met Him very coldly and spat in His face.

The most annoying thing is that people, as a rule, took me for a good, honest, kind, exemplary and even reliable person. Maybe I had these qualities, but if so, it was only because I was indifferent to everything: I could allow myself to be good, honest, kind, reliable, and so on, because I did not know envy. I have never been a victim of envy. I never envied anyone or anything. On the contrary, I always felt sorry for everyone and everything.

From the very beginning I must have trained myself not to give in too much to desires. From the very beginning I did not depend on anyone, but it was a deception. I didn't need anyone, because I wanted to be free, free to do as my whims pleased. When they demanded or expected something from me, I resisted. This is how my independence manifested itself. In other words, I was spoiled from the start. It was as if my mother fed me poison, and the fact that she weaned me early did not save me - I was not cleansed from the poison. Even when she weaned me, I showed complete indifference. Many children express or at least feign protest, but I was at least okay with it. I've been philosophizing since the sliders. Out of principle, he set himself against life. From what principle? From the principle of futility. Everyone around was fighting. I never even tried. And if he created such an appearance, it was only in order to please someone, but deep down in his soul he didn’t even think about rocking the boat. If you explain to me why, I will reject your explanations, since I was born stubborn, and this is inescapable. Later, as an adult, I learned that it took a hell of a lot longer to pull me out of the womb. I understand perfectly. Why move? Why leave a wonderful warm place, a cozy nest, where everything is given for free? My earliest memory is cold, snow, ice on drainpipes, frosty patterns on glass, the cold of damp greenish kitchen walls. Why do people settle in indecent climate zones that are mistakenly called temperate? Because they are born idiots, slackers and cowards. Until I was ten years old, I had no idea that somewhere there were “warm” countries where you didn’t have to work hard, or tremble and pretend that it was invigorating. Wherever it is cold, people work until exhaustion, and, having given birth to offspring, preach to the younger generation the gospel of work, which, in fact, is nothing more than the doctrine of inertia. My family is a people of a completely Nordic persuasion, that is, a people of idiots. They eagerly seized upon any erroneous idea that was ever expressed. Including the idea of ​​cleanliness, not to mention the doctrine of virtue. They are painfully clean. But they stink from the inside. They never once opened the door leading to the soul, and never dreamed of a reckless leap into the hidden. After lunch, they quickly washed the dishes and put them away in the buffet; the newspaper that was read was carefully folded and placed on the shelf; washed clothes were immediately ironed and hidden in the closet. Everything is for the sake of tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present is only a bridge to the future, and on this bridge there are groans; The whole world is groaning, but not a single idiot will think about blowing up this bridge?