Henry Miller, "The Air-conditioned Nightmare"
I remember reading something from that last Bukowski where he mentioned he was reading Henry Miller, and said something to the extent of �when he�s on, he�s fantastic, but when he�s not he�s excruciating.�
To me, �Tropic of Cancer� was fairly excruciating, although it did get better after a fashion. This book was, for the most part, �on.� It�s really a departure from the other Miller books I�ve read, as this is the only book by him I can think of where he�s not talking about sex.
And I guess that�s why I can�t get into his more famous books. I�ve seen pictures of Henry Miller, and reading him talk about sex and female anatomy is like walking into your parent�s room � there are things I just don�t want to visualize.
So it�s good that this is just a collection of essays he wrote while traveling across America, twenty years after he split to live in Paris. For the most part he�s horrified at how people live, a weird take for the so-called �happiest man alive.�
The book as a whole is a kind of highbrow version of Michael Moore�s film, �Roger & Me,� as we�re treated to various people, some who are out of work, some who are too rich for their own good, and some who are a little crazy.
Of course, as this is a collection of essays, there�s bound to be some clunkers, and it�s certainly true in this case. Still, the ratio is something like 80 percent interesting, and that�s pretty good for someone such as myself who likes to complain.
