been reading tropic of cancer by henry miller and it's him traipsing around paris being horny and a writer and poor and it's so good. i love when men talk about things
As an american-born “writer” who is broke and overworked here in the states it is incredibly easy to identify with the main protagonist who gave up that life and moved to paris to still be a broke writer but without the banality of the american rat race
a book of his journals and writing about writing. every page is an opus and he captures what it’s like to be an artist and distills these instincts / urges, struggles of fitting into the “real” world etc. with language that examines the journey through the psyche
A diagnosis of the contemporary male malise. I just started, but I like to post in case someone is is/wants to read it along me, I’ll come back when I’m done with my review!
