Read Plexus by Henry Miller Online

plexus

Second volume in the Rosy Crucifixion series. More about Henry and June, also chronicling the author's travels to the deep South, and his work as an encyclopedia salesmen (after he'd left personnel)....

Title : Plexus
Author :
Rating :
ISBN : 9780802151797
Format Type : Paperback
Number of Pages : 640 Pages
Status : Available For Download
Last checked : 21 Minutes ago!

Plexus Reviews

  • Kristin Myrtle
    2019-03-27 00:09

    I'm waiting until I finish the entire trilogy to write my full review. However I do have a few notes to make. There was little to no sex in this book! I know it's all saved for Sexus, but those sex scenes were so well written and so spectacularly erotic that I thought for sure some of that might seep into Plexus but no such luck. What impressed me the most was Miller's vocabulary. So much so that I kept a list of all the words he used that I had never seen before. I planned to look them all up later on in my huge old crumbling dictionary. And here is that list, it's fantastic:jeremiad, sisyphean, lied, horripilation, somnolence, efflorescence, plangent, ken, asperity, sorties, peregrinations, dithyrambs, colloquies, veridical, prestidigitator, lugubrious, semaphore, prate, cymbalon, bagatelle, mufti, pederasts, anent, sally, purlieus, fettle, jackanapes, palaver, celerity, sagacity, jocosely, cordon, viands, quorum, euchre, velleity, brogans, runneled, cortege, bantam, metempsychosis, limitrophe, steppes, verdure, lilliputian, eclosion, amanuensis, geodetic, quaternary, decan, thaumaturgists, fecund, circumlocutiousness (led me to prolix which I had to look up as well), acephalic, cantharides, crinology*, cacchination*, coterminous, cicerone, cimex (bedbug yuck!), lectularis*, cognomen, pasha, caparisoned, panoplies, verdigris, taboret, ructions, halvah, kirschwasser, strega, russe*, inveigle, arnica, cosmocrator, quoits, prepollent, parlous, anacoluthon, sesquipedalian (actually means one who uses long words LOL), gimcrack, socdolager*, gazabo, couvert, bonhomie, numismatics, celesta, telesme*, alderman, wend, thoracic, ablatives, gerundives, postprandial, palliation, dint, spifflicated, quondam, rambla, souks, encysted, funicular, bobolink, shandygaff, hodcarrier (hod was in the dictionary but not hodcarrier), tyro, chiffonier, auk, foraminifera, plaidoyer*, abstruse, samovar, porphyry, ebullition and percipience.The starred words are the ones I could not define. I actually looked up each and every one. Miller is a lingustic provocateur. His style continues to spellbind me.

  • وائل المنعم
    2019-04-01 22:22

    Henry Miller is the only artist i am really regret that I'd never meet him. He would be - without a doubt - my favorite friend, and I'd cling to him everywhere just to hear him talk.On the contrary of Sexus, plexus doesn't contain porn scenes, only a brief undetailed group sex scene. The time the novel covers is the first years after Miller married Mona, he was then a faithful lover and husband.I'm wondering since i start reading Miller how a character completely imaginable by him will look like, then Claude appear, and thanks god that Miller keep wrote only about himself and real people he known once.The most remarkable parts in Plexus are- Dave Olinski the 8 languages man from Tel Aviv trying to sell Miller an insurance policies.- The first attempts to be a full-time writer after quitting his job. - Writing Mezzotint and how he tried to start his book.- Osiecki and his fiancee Louella.- Playing Dr. Marx with Cromwell.- The three bears story which he keep inventing its events while telling it to Trix's children.- Macgregor monologue and dialogue with Hen.- The two Irish and the blind.I'll read Nexus then write a review about The Rosy Crucifixion as a complete work.

  • AnaVlădescu
    2019-03-26 01:21

    I feel like any laudatory words on my part would simply do an unforgivable injustice to this man's writing. I keep having to stand back and re-read passages and whole chapters just because of their layering, so subtle on the surface and so complex in their structure, writing that seems to have just been carelessly thrown on the page but is in fact of a destructive force for those who understand it. Or, as is my case, for those who humbly try to...

  • Sul6an
    2019-04-21 21:35

    آخر كتاب في هذه السنة ( 2014 )، كتاب الصلبِ الورديِّ الطويل للميللر المجنون، العابث، الزاهد، الحريق، الهادئ، الصوفي، الأبله، المثالي، اللص، العاشق، العربيد ... الذي تناقضاتٌ كثيرة - نعم ! والثرثار .. الثرثار جداً . القراءةُ للميللر أمتعتني بحق، وهو يستمتع أيضاً عندما يقرأُ، لكن متعته مختلفة وعميقة - يقول : " إذا كنت أقرأ كتاباً وتصادفَ أني وقعت على فقرة رائعة أغلِق الكتاب على الفور وأخرج لأتمشّى . كنت أكره فكرةَ الإنتهاء من قراءةِ كتاب جيد . كنتُ أزعجه على طول الخط، أؤخِّرُ المحتوم قدر الإمكان . لكني في الغالب كنت، حين أقع على فقرةٍ عظيمة، أكفُّ عن القراءة في الحال، وأنطلق إلى الخارجِ سواء أكانت تمطر، أو تُنزِلُ بَرَداً، أو ثلجاً أو جليداً، وأستغرق في التأمُّلِ . يمكن للإنسان أن يمتلئَ حتى الزبى بروح مخلوقٍ آخر حتى ليخشى ودون مبالغة أن ينفجر . إني أدَّعي أن كل إنسان قد مرَّ بهذه التجربة . ودعني أشرح أن هذا "المخلوق الآخر" هو دائماً نوعٌ من الـ alter ego (الأنا الآخر) . والمسألة ليست مسألةَ التعرف على روحٍ شقيقة، بل هي مسألة تعرفٍ على ذاتك؛ أن تقفَ وجهاً لوجهٍ مع ذاتك! يالها من لحظة! إنك بإغلاقكَ الكتاب تواصِلُ عمليةَ الخلق . وهذا الإجراء، هذا الطقس، إن صحَّ التعبير، دائماً واحد: اتصالٌ فوريٌّ يجري على الجبهاتِ كلها . زوالٌ تامٌّ للحواجز . وعلى الرغم من أنك تكون أشدَّ عزلة من أي وقت مضى - إلا أنك مع ذلك تكون أكثرَ التصاقاً بالعالم من أي وقت آخر . تكون مندمجاً فيه . وفجأةً يتكشَّفُ لك أنه حين خلق اللهُ العالمَ لم يتركه ليجلس ويتأمل - في مكانٍ ما من الأعراف[ غياهب النسيان ]. إن الله خلقَ العالمَ ومن ثم ولجَهُ: هذا هو معنى الخليقة ".

  • Autumn Christian
    2019-04-20 04:29

    A rambling, sometimes dense book that has rare moments of insight about the artistic life. Was 600 pages and could have been 300. Not Miller's best, but still an enjoyable read for Miller fans.

  • Yehia Nasser
    2019-04-18 21:37

    هنرى ميللر كاتب بائس سعيد شهوانى فيلسوف انسان يجمع كل المتناقضات يبحث عن معنى فتضيع معه

  • Ahmad Alghofaily
    2019-04-21 03:30

    أحب طريقة هنري في ثلاثيته فهو لايتحدث عن شيء ويتحدث عن كل شيء في الوقت ذاته . مونا , الكتابة , الناس , ديستوفسكي وأسماء لاتنتهي كلها جزء من ذكرياته وجزء منه. قد يحصل أن يبدأ هنري فصله عن مونا لينهيه عن شبنغلر وكتابه انحدار الغرب بدون أن تشعر بأي تغير في السياق . يحكي قصص أصدقاءه ولاينهيها , يكتب قصته مع الكتابة ولازال حتى الآن لم يحكيها. لم أرد للرواية أن تنتهي , فلطالما أعطتني الشعور بأن الدنيا لن تهرب وبأن الحياة جميلة فقط عندما نعيشها ببطء وبلا هموم. فبعد يوم طويل من العمل والالتزام الاجتماعي وعندما آوي إلى فراشي بحثا عن الراحة تكون هذه الرواية في الانتظار كي تنقض الهموم واحدا تلو الآخر, الحياة جميلة بعيني هنري كما النوم هانئ بعد قراءته.هنا أحد المقاطع التي أحببتها جدّا وتقريبا تصف رؤية هنري للحياة خلال الرواية"مابالنا , مع كل مافي السماوات من نجوم تغدق طاقاتها المشعة علينا , وبكل ماتمدنا به الشمس والقمر والكواكب كافة من عون, مازلنا غارقين في الظلام والإحباط؟ لماذا نبلى بسرعة كبيرة, مع أن العناصر التي تكوننا غير قابلة للفناء؟ مالذي يسبب اضمحلاننا؟ إن السبب لايكمن في المادة التي تكوننا, هذا مؤكد.إننا نذوي ونتلاشى,نفنى, لأن رغبتنا في الحياة تنطفئ. ولماذا تخبو هذه الشعلة الشديدة الفعالية؟ بسبب قلة الإيمان. فحالما نولد يخبروننا أننا فانون. وما أن نبدأ بفهم معنى الكلمات حتى يعلموننا أن علينا أن نقتل لكي نعيش, ويذكروننا بمناسبة ودون مناسبة باننا كيفما عشنا, بذكاء, بعقلانية, ام بحكمة, فسوف نمرض ثم نموت. إننا نتشرب فكرة الموت منذ مولدنا تقريبا, فهل موتنا هو عجيبةُ العجائب ؟"

  • Wafa
    2019-03-29 04:31

    أي معذب هذا الميللر!! يبقى يجرك في صحراء سرده طوال الرواية ليكافؤك نهايةً بواحة عذبة لتسقي كل الظمأ الذي مررت به طوال الرحلة ويبقى طعم العذوبة التي ذقتها في الفصلين الأخيرين يحرضك للبحث الدائم عن واحات ميللر .. التي قد تعبر عوالم عدة لتعيش فيها بضع لحظات فقطأنت عجائبي جدا ياميللر

  • Aleksej Nilič Kirillov
    2019-04-17 23:33

    Quando la precarietà ti spezza non si può che leggere Miller, che della vita precaria ne fa un miracolo.

  • Vit Babenco
    2019-03-24 04:16

    Metaphorically speaking the world is a real network of nerves, blood vessels and lymphatics: a plexus.And Henry Miller is a human ganglion placed inside this huge Plexus…“Often I have wondered, after reading about evenings with Mallarme, or with Joyce, or with Max Jacob, let us say, how these sessions of ours compared. To be sure, none of my companions of those days ever dreamed of becoming a figure in the world of art. They loved to discuss art, all the arts, but they themselves had no thought of becoming artists. Most of them were engineers, architects, physicians, chemists, teachers, lawyers. But they had intellect and they had enthusiasm, and they were all so sincere, so avid, that sometimes I wonder if the music we made might not have rivalled the chamber music which issued from the sacred quarters of the masters.”So many have a potential and so few live up to it.“For many are called, but few are chosen.”

  • Victoria
    2019-04-08 21:30

    I have tried reading Henry Miller a number of times, and never got through his books, but Plexus was different. There are some passages in this book that are amazing, the way he talked about van gogh was incredible and page 404 I believe it was, incredible. Parts of the book rambled on too much for me, dream sequences that I had a hard time staying interested but most of this book was writing that is of a lost era. Its not going to happen anymore, like losing a generation....

  • وليد الشايجي
    2019-04-16 23:14

    هنري يظهر للناس نفسه .. بكل سفاله و طيبه، بكل بساطه وعفويه. تحدث ميلر في هذا العمل باجزائة عن نفسه وعن مجتمعه في اهم حقبه من حقب المجتمع الامريكي

  • أحمد شاكر
    2019-04-19 04:15

    قد يكون الإنسان راوي قصص، أو مخرفا، أو كذأبا علي طول الخط، ولكن في كل خيال وزيف يكمن جوهر من الحقيقة. هذا ما قاله ميللر، وكأنه يصف نفسه، أو يخبر عن حقيقته..

  • John
    2019-03-25 23:09

    Henry Miller is, to me, a minor God. When he gets on a roll, he is one of the best.I loved reading his sense impressions of hitchhiking down South; of traveling through Harper's Ferry, WV and John Brown; of working (without much success) at several jobs before becoming a writer.On my list is Nexus.

  • Tatiana Averina
    2019-03-30 23:19

    If I would not have known that I picked up a book of a famous writer I would have thought that I was reading exercises of a person who is practicing a freewriting.

  • David James
    2019-03-28 03:24

    Miller, Henry. Plexus (The Rosy Crucifixion, Book 2)I have always found Henry Miller addictive, having first read Tropic of Cancer in 1954, and smuggled it into England as if carrying dynamite. Ever since I’ve been a sucker for anything he wrote. I suppose I admired the man rather than the books themselves. He had done what many of us at some time in our lives have done or, rather, wished to do: given up the rat race. In his case it was choice rather than necessity that drove him into poverty and finding his destiny in writing. Unlike Orwell, whose experiments at living with the poor and downtrodden were exercises in discovering other lifestyles, Miller was less interested in his subjects’ welfare than his take on them. He loved the floating immigrant population of Brooklyn; Poles, Jews, Russians - they were his raw material. He had no Etonian background, no wealthy parents behind him, and no connections in the literary world. He began from scratch, borrowed books on his mother’s library ticket and read anything that took his fancy. ‘No doubt it is important to read the classics,’ he admits, but more valuable ‘to a writer at least, is to read whatever comes to hand.’ He wandered the museums and galleries, and the bars and speakeasies of Brooklyn, Manhattan and the Bronx, bumming a crust, listening to life stories, picking up crazy people, and squatting in condemned rat-infested tenements. Plexus, the palm of his oeuvre says William Gordon, treats the period from his leaving the Cosmodemonic Telegraph Company to his first (bad) marriage, his divorce and his obsession with Mona, an easy girl who believes in his ‘work’ and helps him emotionally and financially. Beginning with erotic bliss (see first volume, Sexus) his relationship with his new wife is ecstatic - until gradually things fall apart. The reader suspects and so does Miller that his wife is a loose woman, living off richer and often disturbed lovers. The bothers Miller not one jot. He loves stories or anecdotes and welcomes all comers! When I open a volume of Miller such as Plexus a huge grin comes over me. I know what to expect and am never disappointed. The account of his and friend Dr Kronski’s entertaining of the handsome and gullible Alan Cromwell, one of Mona’s beaux is sheer knockabout farce. To start with, Mona never appears to discuss the business proposition with her lover, so the three men drink, Miller listening in the role of Dr Marx, a Jewish surgeon to Kronski telling gruesome stories about animal experiments, one of which was about a rabbit that indvertently died. Afterwards Kronski made it into a stew! Unfortunately he’d forgotten the poison used as a sedative. ‘Cromwell, slightly sobered by the bloody tale, remarked that it was too bad that Kronski hadn’t died, then laughed so heartily over this thought that absentmindedly he swallowed half a glass of neat cognac. Whereupon he had such a fit of coughing that we had to stretch him out on the floor and work over him like a drowned man.’ Dressing and undressing the soused Cromwell and telling the revived guest that while he’s been ‘out’ Mona has phoned, saying she’d gone to Washington to meet him.Interspersed among Miller’s encounters with riff-raff in the streets, we find long passages of reminiscence and much philosophical rambling on Nietzsche, Lawrence, and Freud, Rank, Alan Watts, Van Gogh, Dostoyevsky and other writers. But wherever his steps take him in search of ‘a five spot’ a drink or anything but office slavery Miller is an entertaining guide.

  • Dmitry Verkhoturov
    2019-03-31 02:18

    Большая, местами пространная, многоуровневая, насыщенная грандиозным количеством отсылок к современной и классической культуре книга.Вещи, которые зацепили меня сильнее всего:* описания фактических событий, описывающие жизнь лирического героя в любовном треугольнике с женой и её возлюбленной, сумасшедшей художденицей;* размышления о стезе современного писателя (и вообще творческого человека), с постоянными сравнением с прошлым мировым опытом, с биографиями таких людей, как Ван Гог;* оды искусству, заставляющие самому проникутся уважением к описываемым предметам;* меткие и запоминающиеся портреты сотен людей, знакомых и случайно встретившихся Миллеру;* описание жизни героя, которому уже 36 лет, он безработный и живёт на содержании жены, родители и часть друзей считают его неудачником, другая часть друзей — забавным чудаком, а жена — гениальным писателем, несмотря на то, что он никогда не публиковался и свою книгу пишет в голове "несмываемыми" чернилами.Я поймал себя на мысли, что при желании я могу придумать ещё пятнадцать таких пунктов, и ничуть не слукавлю написав, что это не всё. Книга показалась мне очень интересной, приятно умной (но не "заумной"), гораздо более целомудренной, чем "Сексус", и однозначно достойной прочтения.

  • Yasser
    2019-04-08 03:33

    ومازلنا مع ملحمة ميللر الثلاثية وصلبه الوردى نتابع معاناته واحلامه كى يصبح كاتبا كبيرا استقالته اخيرا من وظيفته وحياته الالية فهنيئا لك ياميللر لقد فعلتها واصبحت حرا معاناته مع زوجته مونا لتدبير نفقات المعيشة وكتاباته الاولى التى يحاول بها كسب قوت يومه احلامه الغريبة والتى يتذكرها بدقة رهيبة عن دراجته ومنزله واصدقائه رؤيته لفان جوخ الذى عانى من الصعوبات فى حياته وموته فقيرا ارائه عن ديستوفيسكى وانحدار الغرب لشبلنغر ..بعد ميللر فى هذا الجزء تماما عن البورنوغرافيا فاصبحت بيلكسوس اشبه بكتاب عن الدين مقارنة بسكسوس وذلك جعلها افضل منها واجمل .. كالعادة السرد الطويل يحكم اسلوب ميللر حتى فى روايته لاحلامه الغريبة والخروج من قصة الى اخرى والاستطراد المبالغ فيه ..سنجد معاناة ميللر الكبرى فى هذا الجزء حتى انه اضطر الى ان ياكل الطعام الفاسد الذى سيتم التخلص منه من المحلات والمطاعم ادارته لحانة تقصيره فى دفع نفقة ابنته التى لم يستطع سوى رؤيتها من بعيد وبكائه كثيرا خوفا من عدم معرفتها اياه او تحريض امها ضده ..ان هذه المعاناة الكبرى التى واجهها ميللر فى حياته مثلت صلبه الوردى ان تجرح وتنزف حتى اخر قطرة من دمائك لتزهر بعدها وردة ربما تحمل لك الامل فالى نيكسوس اخر جزء فى تلك الملحمة ..

  • Wendy Wax
    2019-03-30 02:35

    Plexus is the second and BEST novel in Henry Miller's "The Rosy Crucifixion" trilogy. Better than Tropic of Cancer (in my opinion). You'll have to go elsewhere to find a real review--I don't have the time to get into it. But I loved the book, dog-eared many pages, underlined constantly, had to tape the cover on twice, and look forward to reading it again.

  • Arthur Hoyle
    2019-03-24 00:28

    A window onto Miller's early years of struggle to become a writer as he surrenders his will to the chaotic personality of his second wife June (Mona). As with all Miller's "novels," the narrative moves through association, memory, and dream rather than a logically organized plot.

  • Brendan
    2019-04-20 04:28

    henry miller basically owns your face.

  • Nicole Aviles
    2019-04-14 01:27

    A Review by Nicole S. Aviles"Plexus" by Henry MillerMiller's novels are really memoirs, before memoirs were memoirs. Literary fiction at it's best. Miller is probably the most thought-provoking of the clique of memoir writers of that time, other than Anais Nin. Much like his lit fiction--her diaries were also really, memoirs, more or less. The two were a dynamic duo, and wrote together fiery, passionate works, which are some of the best of their line of work(s)--and of the century. Plexus, while one of my favorites by Miller, is actually not during that period, but before rather, while Miller was still married to and in love with the eclectic "Mrs. Miller."Plexus opens with Miller and his eccentric, enigmatic wife--also known throughout the works of Nin as June Miller--but only as Mona then Mara, by Miller himself, choosing a locale together in the city to shack up in, though broke and walking the thin line of being from bohemian artist to just completely poverty stricken. Somehow they manage to afford an upscale loft in the city though, as June shrewdly swindles her many string of admirers into providing them the funds to keep a [very fine] roof over their heads, the rather luxuriously loft really quite ridiculous for them to be settled in, given neither is working. Yet, when you're dealing with creative, awe-inspiring artists, this just doesn't seem to apply like most of the rules of life. People such as Miller are ALWAYS forgivable, and while it may not be fair, it goes without saying--he did manage to write an amazing line of work. One must comprehend the "artist" lifestyle, to accept the sometimes off-putting behaviors (pretention, chaotic living, a rebellion against structure and middle-America), which are more evident than ever in his line of works. Especially the Plexus, Nexus, Sexus series. The huge and thick novel Plexus, has Miller commenting on a range of topics, from his own personal struggle to continue life as the bohemian, to his wife's drive to mold him into the next Dostoevsky so-to-speak, to random ramblings of a great and profound mind, to the interactions on a daily basis that kept Miller going despite the struggle to live--daily. He is a philosophical street prophet more than anything, and Plexus emphasizes this, as much as any of his books have. I enjoyed reading about the Millers before everything shattered between the two, as well. In Nin's works, she highlights the marriage while in shambles (partly due to her own affair with Miller), and Miller barely mentions "Mona" in those collections during his days in Clichy, in novels like Tropic of Cancer, which is best known for. Their marriage and love was a very passionate, furious one, and we witness the bond between them, which was rare and special.Miller also had an exclusive set of friends whom were lawyers, writers, artists, and others, most of whom seemed all too willing to pay his living expenses while he honed his craft. I would definitely recommend this to fans of the author, who I find was exceptionally bright, and original. A true visionary and master of the craft.

  • Geoff Balme
    2019-03-22 22:11

    This particular six-hundred page tome, similar in scope to the previous one (Sexus) is considerably less sexy relative to much of Miller's library. Again much of it takes place in an America between wars and in a kind of quiet desperation that marks much of his efforts (in fact he often compares himself to Hamsun who famously wrote a book called simply Hunger). Miller rambles and you feel much like some great uncle is telling you stories about his youth, interrupting himself with asides, philosophy, humor, and wide-ranging and mostly wholly nonsense theorizing (much of that seemingly purely for entertainment purposes but also probably popular at the time). In this set of ramblings he ambles into North Carolina for a bit hoping to take advantage of some easier living. Of course, it's not much easier and he's immediately forced to play some tricks and take full advantage of some hospitality. The slice of Americana he dishes is not one you'll easily find anywhere else being both long before Kerouac took up the subject matter, and also much more forthcoming than Kerouac ever could be. Miller is always a pleasure and while you'll sometimes find yourself shaking your head or laughing at his antics he's always a treat. He surprised me by not being as much of a bigot as was the norm for his period (lord knows my own grandfolks sure were!).

  • Clarke Owens
    2019-04-01 01:26

    God in heaven, what a masterpiece of ecstatic speech! Plexus is by far my favorite Henry Miller book thus far read. Previously, I've read Tropic of Cancer, Tropic of Capricorn, and Black Spring. (Did not care for Black Spring.) The Tropics were great, but I don't remember that they were this good.All of Miller (that I've read) seems like one book. It's all sui generis Miller, the writer reeling off endless anecdotes, dreams, contemplations, rants. This tome had no slow spots for me. It held my attention from beginning to end, and reached its denouement in a great crescendo of cascading language in its paean to, of all things, Spengler. Wow. Great stuff, magnificent stuff.

  • Alex
    2019-03-30 21:16

    Legendary.

  • Jeruen
    2019-03-30 04:10

    Last year, I picked up Henry Miller's Sexus, which was the first book in the Rosy Crucifixion trilogy. Having read Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn before, I wanted to pick up this book and continue reading the trilogy. Alas, it seems that Miller's style has started to fizzle, and unfortunately, I cannot say that I am enthusiastic about this book the way I was with the previous books I have read.See, the previous books (both the two Tropics as well as Sexus) was highly charged with sex. Sure, it was sexist, it was misogynistic, it was sex-driven. Miller would write about his fictionalized life, in between very graphic descriptions of sex. And that was amazing. That was transgressive fiction. However, the sex disappeared here in Plexus. And that somehow made the whole book rather lukewarm. Instead of reading transgressive prose, all I have is 460 pages of a man talking about his life, as he tries to be a pathetic writer, without earning any money, as he goes up and down the streets of New York City. In short, it feels like it's just one big rant of a man who has a big ego and a lazy attitude. Don't get me wrong. I don't need sex in fiction. But to be honest, it seems to me that what saved Miller's previous works were the sex. He was willing to break free from people's Victorian inhibitions and graphically talk about topics that are considered taboo by society. However, here, that went away. Instead, it feels just like a diary, and unfortunately, I don't agree with Miller's work ethic and find him an arrogant and lazy bastard, so to speak. I mean, sure, it is nice to aspire being an artist, but sometimes, one's art cannot feed oneself. His hesitation and reluctance to work, as well as his antics on how to avoid work and instead bum meals and money from others just pissed me off. I really felt like I should have no pity to people who are not willing to put effort to contribute to society. Overall, I was just disappointed that this book was simply about a lazy man's diary of his days in New York City. Gone were the sex episodes, gone were the passages challenging society's morality. Instead, these are just passages challenging people's work ethic, and unfortunately, I disagree with his take on things. Before one can act like a self-important bastard, one must first prove that one's art is worth one's self-importance. Otherwise, others would just see oneself as someone who has a very big ego that needs to be deflated. 3 stars for the deflated experience. See my other book reviews here.

  • Stefano Zorba
    2019-03-29 23:34

    Plexus è un romanzo di Henry Miller, pubblicato da Longanesi nel 1956 e secondo volume di The Rosy Crucifixion.Mentre è appena uscito Sexus, Lawrence Durell, critico e amico da sempre di Miller, gli scrive una lunga lettera in cui esprime il suo orrrore nel leggere quello che, a mio avviso, è il capolavoro dello scrittore Statiunitense. Sexus, appunto.Devo confessarti d’esserne rimasto amaramente deluso, nonostante il fatto che esso contenga alcune delle pagine più belle che tu abbia scritto fino ad adesso.Forse questa dura critica al primo volume della Crocifissione Rosea (che Miller avrebbe voluto raccolti in un unico volume da quasi 2000 pagine), altera la scrittura e lo stile di questo secondo “Plexus”.Manca quella passione, quella voglia di vivere, quell’allegria disinteressata grati solo di essere vivi che si trova in Sexus. La narrazione zoppica, le situazioni sono banali e ripetitive, sono solo delle scuse per intermezzare le grandi pagine di analisi che Miller scrive sulla vita e sull’umanità.Manca equilibrio, tra la filosofia appassionata di un uomo ai margini per scelta e una vita piatta e monotona, dentro gli schemi, grigia come il calcestruzzo di Brooklyn che fa da sfondo alla storia.Manca quella vita straordinaria che giustifica la sua straordinaria visione della vita. Mancano gli amplessi e le situazioni incredibili di Sexus.Ma forse non è solo per seguire i consigli di Durell che lo accusava di volgarità morale; forse è solo che la sua vita si era incastrata, fermata, sospesa. Forse non è una revisione della sua forza, ma una descrizione di un periodo nero, che lo porterà ad attraversare l’oceano e a stabilirsi a Parigi, dove finalmente si consacrerà uno dei più grandi e innovativi scrittori del Novecento.Non storcete il naso. Senza Miller non ci sarebbe stata la Beat Generation. O Bukowski. E tante vite, senza leggerlo, si sarebbero spente in penombra invece di accendersi ed illuminare a loro volta il loro mondo intorno.E’ un pò pesante, d’accordo. Ma se apprezzate Miller, troverete la sua solita lucidità e genialità. I soliti spunti per diventare grandi. Grandi uomini e donne. Grandi anime.Necessario da leggere, per continuare questa crocifissione in rosa che continuerà con Nexus, terzo ed ultimo volume.

  • Greg
    2019-04-04 01:28

    Another great mountain from Miller's semi-autobiographical epic. This covers much of Miller's early thirties, where he's still in New York, living a bohemian life that is by turns romantic, pathetic, exiting, and exhausting, viewed from Miller's unique perspective. I guess when you know your wife is prostituting herself to support you and your art, which you rarely make time to pursue, you certainly need to develop an unusual worldview. Still, as always, Miller finds beauty and electricity in living on the margins--conning his friends out of a few bucks for dinner or a show, ranting when others scam him the way he's scammed everyone else, waxing poetic about anything and everything he's ever read (always the deepest of authors and subjects--no time for the trivial--Spengler figures heavily near the end, and always Dostoyevsky) and the New York nightlife. There are some great quotes about Brooklyn that will surely insult that borough's current hipster elite, and no end of stream-of-consiousness proselytizing of everything Miller thinks holy or grand (or horrible, like Brooklyn).There's a lot of soggy-eyed reminiscing about his childhood days and pals from the past, and most of it's pretty fun to read. Many of the usual suspects noted in other Miller books drop in from time to time to ply him with drink and food and talk, and to aggravate him with questions about "his work" which usually means his nascent writing skills, but more practically here, it means selling encyclopedias, imported candies, glorified chap books, and all sorts of little scams he and his cronies cook up to make ends meet, or at least get them closer to meeting so that his wife's time spent with sad, lonely millionaires can bridge the gap.As always, if you enjoy Miller, you'll love this. If he tends to turn you off, keep in mind this is 600+ pages of stuff that will turn you off even more. Though with much less sex than usual.

  • Eric Phetteplace
    2019-04-16 00:10

    Miller's work is all more or less the same narrative style, so it's not like Plexus distinguished itself in that way. Perhaps the only major difference I noticed was that Miller was in a (monogamous?) relationship for the entire book and his wife, Mona, is easily the most alluring character besides Miller himself. Miller's impressions of different places are usually quite brilliant (see The Air-Conditioned Nightmare) but his detour into the South here was rather tame. Overall, Plexus has the same vibrance as his other works and ends on a typically uplifting, spiritual note as Miller relates how a few great authors—Dostoyevsky, Nietzsche, Eli Faure, Oswald Spengler—have influenced him. Miller is so transparently in love with reading and affected by literature that I could probably read an entire book of him narrating his own reading.

  • Jason Boog
    2019-04-13 22:13

    Maybe Miller's best book, loaded with lovely meditations on becoming a writer, crazy dream sequences and a pulpy vision of Brooklyn in the 1920s.QUOTE: "I glanced at one manuscript after another, reading only a few lines at a time. Finally I came to my notes. They were as fresh and inspiring as when I had jotted them down. Some of them, which I had already made use of, were so provocative that I wanted to write the stories all over again, write them from a fresh, new angle. The more I unearthed, the more feverish I became. It was as though a huge wheel inside me had begun to revolve. I pushed everything aside and lit a cigarette. I gave myself up to a delicious reverie. All that I had wanted to write these past fall months was now writing; itself out. It oozed out like milk from a cocoanut. I had nothing to do with it. Someone else was in charge. I was merely the receiving station transmitting it to the blue."