You've got my number, Schwitters.

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Comments:: And I think we're more or less on the same page. : My Friend Henry Miller - Alfred Perles, and Genius and Lust - Norman Mailer, are both worth reading. The latter, especially, is an extremely preceptive analysis and appreaciation of Miller's genuis. Whatever you think of Mailer's own writing (I think his "fiction" is pretentious trash but that his "new journalism" is brilliant) he's a great judge of other writers. And, in spite of his enormous ego, perfectly honest. "I'll never write anything this good," he says (in not those exact words) after quoting long passages of Miller. : I haven't read the Brassai book, nor do I have any desire to read the Erica Jong. I think she's a one-book wonder. Not that I thought that much of Fear of Flying - I didn't even finish it. : Like you, at one time I was anxious to read anything about Henry Miller that I could lay my hands on. But I'm long past that point. There's only so much you can have of any one dish, no matter how tasty, before you become jaded. To quote another of my favorites, I.B. Singer: "You can even have too much kreplach." If you can get tired of listening to Bach - and you can - what chance does a mere mortal like Henry Miller have? : Visiting this website is a bit of a "Remembrance of Things Past" for me. And I don't particularly care for Proust. : : My guess is that these guys tend to distort the truth of Miller's life to the same degree that Miller's own 'autobiographical' works do (which can be quite a bit). : I disagree. The "facts" of Miller's life may or may not be distorted in his books, but he wrote the truth. His biographers, on the other hand, may get the facts right but usually don't come within sight of the truth. : : I have a suspicion that you don't give a fuck what anybody else reads. : Like I say, you have my number. It's been nice chatting with you, Schwitters. : Take care, : Bill Marantz

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