| Title | : | Quiet Days in Clichy |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 080213016X |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780802130167 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 154 |
| Publication | : | First published July 1, 1956 |
Quiet Days in Clichy Reviews
-
Talented and unabashedly debaucherous, Joey (a fictionalised Miller) and his roommate Carl mostly seem to spend their ‘quiet days in Clichy’ either writing or fucking. Every woman in these two stories exist entirely as sex objects for Joey and Carl, and almost all of them are ready and willing to spread their legs, for money or lust, and occasionally with utter indifference.
Normally, this would lead me to rip the story to shreds for its sexism, but I was completely swayed by Miller’s brilliant writing. There isn’t much of a plot here and there are no admirable (or perhaps even likeable) characters, but I devoured every word. It makes me feel like the parents of Colette, the 15-year old runaway waif who gets taken in by Carl and Joey and becomes their “Cinderella, concubine and cook”. When Colette’s parents eventually find her they naturally want a word with Carl about his illicit relationship with their daughter. But upon finding out that he and Joey are writers who study the likes of Proust and Goethe, they are instantly placated and decide not to press any charges. As Carl interprets it, “The French have a great respect for writers, you know that. A writer is never an ordinary criminal”.
In the same way, the artistry of Miller’s writing makes me forgive, and in fact, thoroughly enjoy the depravity of his content. Should I feel a bit guilty, or perhaps deceived about this? I don’t know, but oh, what a great read!
Read more reviews on my blog Violin in a Void -
update: Miller's Quiet Days In Clichy is given the once over in
Verbivoracious Festschrift Volume Three: The Syllabus.
Quiet away away
from misogynay
said more to be sexist is he
but after all is done and said
he likes his women most in bed -
" كنت قد كتبت حوالي ثمانى او عشر صفحات من الهذر التام الذى لم يكن بوسع اكثر السرياليين وحشية ان يعرف رأس ماكتبت من ذيله "
وهذا هو ما عليه هذه الرواية صفحات من الهذر التام بلا راس ولا ديل ولا معنى ولا فكرة ولا اى شئ -
إما أن تتقبل هنري ميللر كما هو فيروق لك و تجد نفسك من أنصاره الذين يهتفون بحماسة و دون حياء أو تبغضه إلى الأبد و تعاديه دونما هوادة و تصب اللعنات - كل اللعنات - على هذا الوغد . راقت لي بعض التعليقات في الموقع من بعض القراء الأجانب حيث كانت إحداهن منصفة إلى أبعد حد حين قالت أنه لا شك كاتبٌ رائع و إن بدا خنزيراً . هناك رأي آخر يتسائل لماذا لا يقلع الجميع عن قراءة هنري و هو الذي لا يتخلى عن البذاءات و سردها بكل الطرق البشعة و مع ذلك يلاقي نجاحاً مسعوراً - إن صح التعبير - و علل ذلك بصوته السردي البارع و العفوي جداً .
العنوان مضلل بالمناسبة أو أن ميللر يقصد الهدوء الذي لا بد أن يعقب الصخب ! ليس ثمة الكثير من الأحداث و هذه عادة لم يقلع عنها الكاتب أبداً و عشاق الحبكات الروائية على موعد مع خيبة كبيرة إن ترقبوا شيئاً من هذا القبيل . و الكتاب فيه كاتبان يقدسان حياة اللهو و الشراب فاليوم خمر و غد ٌ كذلك و ما بعد الغد و على مدار الأسبوع الأول و الثاني و الثالث و من الواضح أن امرؤ القيس كان سيصبح صديقهما المفضل . لا شيء سوى أصناف النبيذ و العاهرات ! تقريباً لا شي آخر . هذا يدعو للتقزز غير أن للحقيقة زوايا أخرى من الممكن أن تصنع فارقاً فاللغة هنا تصلح كل ما أفسده الكاتب عن عمد . و لعلني أقتبس ما يوضح الفكرة بشكل أكبر .
" إن كارل عبقري في التورط بالمشاكل . كانت المشكلة أو ربما الفضيلة أنه لا يستطيع أن يقول لا . إن معظم الناس يقولون على الفور لا ، بدافع غريزي أعمى أما هو فيقول نعم باستمرار . إنه يعيش حياته بدافع اللحظة و لا يتوقف عن مغازلة الخطر لا بدافع الشجاعة بل لأن ذلك يمنحه فرصة لشحذ ذكائه ! " -
Is there any more overrated author than Henry Miller, other than perhaps other writers in his inner literally (pun intended) incestuous circle? Or a more prototypical crustpunk/freegan patronizing pretentious self-absorbed dippy douchebag? Or a better example of an annoying shit who thinks just because he's in another country he's interesting?
The difference between Miller and generic porn is the fact that Miller isn't profoundly stupid. He's smart enough to know that just having sex and self-consciousness in a novel makes it interesting and literary to New Yorker subscribers, just as he's not smart enough to know just because he's "honest" and writes "honestly" about sex doesn't mean he's a genius. A satire about pretentious assholes done by pretentious assholes is still pretentious and full of assholes.
When he's not annoying me for being a smug snot-nosed shit, though, Miller is fun to read, and he does have some oh-so-French lines. He's essentially a writer of romance novels (fantasies) for writers, virginal librarians and others who yearn for the Good Old Days of Debauchery.
But nothing takes me out of a sex scene more than the word "boobies."
A lot of people seem to be under the impression that this and other Miller is written by an old man reminiscing about his young and carefree days. But by my estimation, if Miller was born in 1891, and these stories take place in the early 30's, he'd be a 40-year old banging 14-year old chicks, among other casually creepy and misogynistic things. So take it or leave it if that floats your boat, but stop picturing him in your head as a harmless naif or innocent freshman. -
قبل از هرچیزی، شیفتهی اسم کتاب شدم...
«روزهای آرام در کلیشی» ...
انگار ناآرامی از سر و روی کتاب میبارد ...
و درست حدس زدم.
این عنوانی که در بازار کتاب ایران هست، متشکل از یک لانگ شورت استوری ( روزهای آرام در کلیشی )، یک سالشمار از زندگی میلر و تعدادی اظهار نظر درباره میلر از طرف عدهای هنرمند و نویسنده هست که به انتهای کتاب ضمیمه شده است.
و اما خود داستان...
میلر یک تجربینویس بود و غالب آثار داستانی منتشر شده از میلر، اتوبیوگرافی از مقاطع مختلف زندگی او هستند.
روزهای آرام در کلیشی، به دورهای برمیگردد که میلر همراه با همخانهی نویسندهش، در میدانی موسوم به میدان کلیشی در پاریس اقامت داشت و مشغول نوشتن کارهای اولیهاش، از جمله بهار سیاه بود.
میلر در کلیشی، روزهای عجیب و غریبی گذرانده. با فقر دست به یقه بوده و با نشمهها و آدمهای عجیب و عادات غریبی زندگی کرده و چکیدهای از اتفاقات به یاد ماندنی و تجارب زندگیش را در این کتاب کوتاه گنجانده که به جد خواندنی است.
در خصوص سبک و سیاق میلر هم برای کسانی آشنایی زیادی با میلر ندارند، در همین حد بگویم که روان و خطی و بی شیله پیله مینویسد و تکنیکهای داستانسرایی چندانی بلد نیست، در نتیجه، آثارش چندان در فرم پیچیده نیستند. نوشتههای او، به دو همکار آمریکاییاش، چارلز بوکوفسکی و جان فانته بسیار نزدیک هستند و از همان حال و هوای عیاشگونِ بی دغدغه و دم را غنیمت دان برخوردارند.
این کتابها جان میدهند برای تورق در اتاقهای انتظار، اتوبوس، قطار و مترو ��ه زمانی از خستگی یا کسالت از همهچیز سیریم، متن روان و بدرد بخوری باشد، که ما را دوباره به ذوق آورد.
مهر ۱۴۰۰ -
TW: rape, rape of a minor, sexism, extremely graphic language and descriptions of sex (basically porn), sexist slurs, racist slurs => all unchallenged bc Henry Miller is toxic af, so beware!
I have no idea what the fuck just happened. I picked up this German edition of Quiet Days in Clichy a couple of days ago. I found it in the free little library at my local gym and fell in love with its cover. Seriously, it's one of the best cover designs I've come across in a minute. I love the color choices and the unique font. I've wanted to read this little fragment of auto-fiction years ago, I toyed with the idea of picking up its Penguin Modern Classics edition, because I was (and still am) obsessed with Paris and I do love me a pretentious little read, but I never got around to it.
Looking back, I am actually glad that I didn't read it back in 2016, or whenever I first came across this story. I would've been appalled. I would've been too young to read and assess it for what it is. And, it's a nice bonus to now have a gorgeous hardback edition that I didn't have to pay a single dime for.
I personally think I read Quiet Days in Clichy at the perfect time in my life, without even knowing it. I am sick (yet again... this autumn/winter season is NOT treating me well) and I felt very down. October and November were some rough months for me and it showed in my reading as well. I barely read anything. And even though I discovered some gems I wasn't as enthralled or excited about my reads like I usually am. Feeling down and unproductive I picked up Quiet Days in Clichy yesterday evening. It was around 9 PM and I didn't think much of it. I thought I'd read 20 pages and get bored – something that frequently happened over the past months. But no! For some weird reason, Henry Miller had me in his grip from the first page. I read this 200-page book in two hours, in one single sitting... without even getting up. I quite literally flew through this book. Whenever I checked the page number I was shocked to see that I had read 20 or more pages.
Quiet Days in Clichy will be one of the more memorable reading experiences of 2022 with me. The book is scandalous and problematic af but it was so delicious reading it. The book is full of sex (and rape!, so beware of that!), porn, nudity, obscenity, and overall fucked up toxic shit, I knew it was A LOT but I didn't fathom it'd be that graphic. For the first time, I kinda understand why US-American publishers initially refused to publish it lmao. Had I run a publishing house this book would've stayed in the drafts, bitch, no fucking way would I have sent it to a printing press.
It's just sex, sex, rape, sex, sex. This fragment/novella is apparently based on Miller's own experiences as a Parisian expatriate in the early 1930s, when he and Alfred Perlès shared a small apartment in suburban Clichy as struggling writers. Imagine the power that men hold that they can basically confess to raping a 15-year-old girl on paper and facing ZERO legal consequences. It is absolutely wild.
Figures like Miller, in all their toxic masculine glory, can hold a lot of fascination for people. I am not exempt from that. I wanna look into his biography and watch some interviews with him, because damn, how fucked up can a person be??? Like, seriously. Was he ever in prison, or???
Quiet Days in Clichy follows Joey (= Miller), an American expatriate, in and around Place Clichy and is divided into two parts. In the first, "Quiet Days in Clichy", Joey and his equally destitute roommate Carl search for food and navigate "relationships" with various women. Chiefly, Joey with Nys, a prostitute he meets at the Café Wepler near Montmartre, and Carl with Colette, a fifteen-year-old runaway who moves in with them before eventually being retrieved by her parents.
To my "shame", I have to admit that I actually loved that first part. Had it not been for the "relationship" (aka RAPE) of the 15-year-old Colette I would've given it 5 stars. Simply because it is so brutally honest and gripping. I just couldn't stop reading about Miller's crude ways. He euphemises nothing in his relationships/transactions with prostitutes. He gives you the nitty-gritty of being poor and destitute in Paris, e.g. having to eat bread out of trash cans etc. His roommate's "relationship" with Colette is the only thing that constantly pulled me out of the story bc it's just so fucking disgusting and it makes me really uncomfortable and angry to think of how many grown ass men desire girls. It makes me sick to my stomach and I'll never "enjoy" reading about that.
The second part, "Mara-Marignon," describes Carl's volatile love affair with the married Eliane, and Joey's relationship with Mara, a prostitute he meets on the Champs-Élysées. Mara reminds Joey of a previous lover, the married Christine, whom he regrets not marrying himself. This leads to a recollection of an evening he and Carl spent at their home with an acrobat named Corinne and a Danish woman named Christine. The four of them have a spontaneous orgy, which upsets Christine, who then flees the apartment. (You can't make that shit up.)
Personally, that second half didn't do much for me. It was boring af and pretty repetitive when you have just read the first part. There are no new insights and the shock factor is lost because Miller already revealed it all. Overall, the book could've been easily improved by simply omitting the second story, it is completely unnecessary and the final orgy (lmao) was one of the most ridiculous things I've ever read.
All in all, Quiet Days in Clichy can be compared with stuffing yourself with candy. It feels great when you start. It's delicious and you start craving more. But once you do it for a while and especially when you look back on what you just did you cannot help but hate yourself. This is a book that I would never recommend to anyone. I am happy that I read it (Miller is one of those "classic" authors I want to have read) but I am equally happy it's over. Guess I'm too much of a prude to properly enjoy erotica, I was simply gasping left and right at the audacity of it all. -
Quiet Days in Clichy - there is nothing quiet about Miller's days in Clichy.
Henry Miller is my 'one author who affected me the most' (and I am not using the word influenced on purpose). I've read and reread his novels countless times, always finding new meanings, hidden messages, obscure sentences that burst forth with life. Miller has the power to pick me up when I'm down, the power to make me laugh when I'm sad, the power to see beauty in our messed-up world. Why? Because his works are full of life; life unrestricted, untamed, like pure blood just drawn and spilled all over the pages while still warm. That's Miller for me.
Quiet Days in Clichy chronicles a period of about one year. As usual, Miller is broke, sharing an apartment with his friend, who in this book goes by the name of Carl (Alfred Perles, an excellent author himself). In Miller's own words: "When I think of this period, when we lived together in Clichy, it seems like a stretch in Paradise. There was only one real problem, and that was food. All other ills were imaginary. I used to tell him so now and then, when he complained about being a slave. He used to say that I was an incurable optimist, but it wasn't optimism, it was the deep realization that, even though the world was busy digging its grave, there was still time to enjoy life, to be merry, carefree, to work or not to work."
This statement, is straightforward Miller if you never read him. Miller, throughout his books and most of his actual life, has had problems with money, or rather the lack of money. As for being an incurable optimist? - no, Miller was not an optimist, he was a man who has lived life to the fullest, tasting all and baring nothing. If you are familiar with his books, you know it wasn't always easy.
"It was a period when cunt was in the air." Did I forget to mention that Miller was awfully honest when it came to matters of sex? Most of his works have an underlying sexual motif, a presence of sorts. Some more than others, and Quiet Days in Clichy is of the former category. While many call Miller obscene and even go as far as calling his books pornographic, I've never felt this way. Miller's sex scenes and encounters are spread throughout his work in a matter-of-fact way. He assigns them no importance beyond their occurrences and their consequences. His sexual encounters (while prolific) just happen, so to speak. Here now, tomorrow... It would be foolish to deny that sex played an important role in Miller's life and in his writing, but his writing of sex is not meant to arouse or to provoke, it just is. Sort of like Bukowski's drinking - it just is.
This short novella has a surprising amount of crazy encounters in it. Knowing that during this period Miller was writing my favorite book of all time, Black Spring, helps put things into perspective. There is sex peppered throughout the pages, but the sex itself is of no importance. The encounters, however, are. The people Henry and Carl encounter are all rather interesting, their interactions almost psychotic. Especially the episode which results in their departure to Luxembourg.
Here, we are offered a different side of Miller. Instead of the carefree, jovial Miller tasting all life has to offer, here, he sounds more like Miller in New York.
He's discontent, "...observing the quiet, dull life of a people which has no reason to exist, and which in fact does not exist, except as cows or sheep exist." and "All they were concerned about was to know on which side their bread was buttered. They couldn't make bread, but they could butter it."
And despite finding beauty in the Pfaffenthal, "A thousand years' peace seemed to reign over this somnolent vale. It was like a corridor which God had traced with his little finger, a reminder to men that when their insatiable thirst for blood had been appeased, when they had become weary of strife, here they would find peace and rest."
He compares Luxembourg to the gray city he dislikes so very much, "Luxembourg is like Brooklyn, only more charming and more poisonous." "Better to die like a louse in Paris than live here on the fat of the land..."
Upon arrival back in Paris, Miller states: "Better a good venereal disease than a moribund peace and quiet. Now I know what makes the world civilised: it's vice, disease, thievery, mendacity, lechery. Shit, the French are a great people, even if they are syphilitic. Don't ever ask me to go to a neutral country again. Don't let me look at any more cows, human or otherwise. I was that peppery I could have raped a nun."
What comes next is an insanely exaggerated scene where sex takes over and all boundaries cease to exist. Cheating a whore by giving her an uncovered check is not anything to be proud off, but Henry and Carl put on quite a show to disguise the fact that the check is bad. This episode, while seemingly unimportant brings to what I consider the best in Miller's writing - the words that resurface in Black Spring. "Head rolls off table-head rolls off...little man on wheels...wheels...legs...millions of legs..."
The surreal, creative Miller takes over here. This is the Miller I love. The sex scenes end, and he retires with this: " I got off my ass, yawned, stretched, staggered to the bed.
Off like a streak. Down, down, to the cosmocentric cesspool. Leviathans swimming around in strangely sunlit depths. Life going on as usual everywhere. Breakfast at ten sharp. An armless, legless man bending bar with his teeth. Dynamic falling through the stratosphere. Garters descending in long graceful spirals. A woman with a gashed torso struggling desperately to screw her severed head on. Wants money for it. For what? She doesn't know for what. Just money. Atop umbrella fern lies a fresh corpse full of bullet holes. An iron cross is suspended from its neck. Somebody is asking for a sandwich. The water is too agitated for sandwiches. Look under S in the dictionary!"
This reminds me I'll have to revisit Black Spring soon.
Overall, Miller's narrative in this novella is what one would expect from Miller. Being an early book, it appears as if he is holding back a bit, but not enough to be politically correct. -
E ciudat cât de impudici pot fi unii oameni, dar e culmea cum impudicitatea lor este atât de fecundă. Nu-l pot înţelege pe Miller pentru că nu mă pot pune în pielea lui. Nu pot concepe să-mi schimb "curvele" de pe o zi pe alta, nu pot concepe cum un bărbat poate propaga atât dispreţ la adresa unei femei.
Că tot am cartea în faţă, spun acum pentru că n-am făcut-o niciodată: MI-E SILĂ DE "VORBELE DE DUH" ALE CRITICILOR DE PE COPERTA DIN SPATE! Unde-i Tudor Vianu? Unde-i Titluescu şi unde-i Ibrăileanu? Acum numai "senzaţional", "unic", "literatura americană de azi începe şi se sfârşeşte cu sensul pe care i l-a dat Miller". Fix...
Apreciez eroticul, dar nu orgia... Şi, totuşi, într-o oarecare măsură sunt invidios pe indiferenţa lu Miller. Un spirit existenţialist, dar unul exhibiţionist... -
Quiet Days in Clichy is a novella about nothing. It tells the story, barely at that, of a few days in the lives of two starving writers in Paris. It's supposed to be semi-autobiographical, based on Miller's own experiences of living a destitute life in Clichy neighbourhood of Paris in 1930s.
Both the central characters are made out to be crass misogynists yet cannot live without women. Miller writes marvellously as long as he is not writing about sex. When he turns to sex, which is almost on every page, he engenders feeling of disgust in the reader. Problem is not over-abundance of sex, it is the way sex and characters' thoughts on sex and women have been depicted.
Don't, for a moment, believe that this is erotica. It has truck loads of sex in it but none of it is erotic. It may have shocked the pre-1964 readers but today, it remains oafish and despicable drivel.
Having said all this, I would still want to read all that Miller has written. -
Ενας υπέροχος Χένρι Μίλλερ μ' ένα έργο που γράφτηκε πριν στη δεκαετία του '30 και ξαναγράφτηκε στη δεκαετία του '50 (1956).
Δεν είναι ο μύθος που λατρεύεις στο συγκεκριμένο βιβλίο, είναι οι περιγραφές του Μίλλερ, είναι η διάχυτη σεξουαλικότητα, είναι το α-ρομαντικό και συνάμα τόσο θελκτικό. Αν τις "Ησυχες μέρες στο Κλισί" διαβάσει ένα νεαρό παιδί (15-20), τότε στα σίγουρα θα στιγματίσει τη ζωή του, ίσως και την κοσμοθεωρία του για το τι είναι έρωτας, σεξ, ανθρώπινες σχέσεις, πραγματική καθημερινή ζωή.
Για έναν ενήλικο είναι μια γερή γροθιά πιο κάτω από το στομάχι. -
أيام هادئة في كليشي
لازلت أبحث عن هنري ميلر الذي يتحدث عنه الجميع، لم تعجبني طريقته ولا أسلوبه ولا موضوعاته، لا يبدو لي مجيداً سردياً، ولا حتى ايروتيكياً، هكذا كان كتابه هذا على قصره ثقيلاً علي، بدا لي صعلكة وجنس لا أكثر، بلا أي لمحة أدبية. -
Το μικρό αυτό βιβλιαράκι αποτελεί την πρώτη μου επαφή με το έργο του Χένρι Μίλερ. Η αλήθεια είναι ότι θα μπορούσα να τον γνωρίσω με το "Ο Τροπικός του Καρκίνου" που πιάνει σκόνη στη βιβλιοθήκη μου εδώ και κάτι χρόνια, όμως δεν ήθελα να πέσω κατευθείαν στα βαθιά, ενώ επίσης ήθελα να διαβάσω κάτι μικρό και σχετικά γρήγορο. Νομίζω ότι έκανα την ιδανική αρχή, πήρα μια καλή εικόνα από τη γραφή και τον τρόπο σκέψης του συγγραφέα, γνωρίζοντας βέβαια ότι μπορεί να φτάσει σε πολύ υψηλότερα επίπεδα ποιότητας στα πιο μεγάλης έκτασης έργα του. Οι δυο ιστορίες που περιέχει το βιβλίο, είναι ουσιαστικά αυτοβιογραφικές, από τις εμπειρίες του Μίλερ κατά τη διαμονή του στο Παρίσι, εμπειρίες γεμάτες εφήμερους έρωτες, διάφορες σεξουαλικές καταστάσεις και κάθε είδους τρέλα. Με λιτές και σε σημεία ωμές περιγραφές, ο Μίλερ παρουσιάζει χαρακτήρες κάθε φυράματος, γρήγορες σεξουαλικές σκηνές, αλλά και ένα Παρίσι μιας άλλης εποχής. Δεν μπορώ να ξέρω πόσο χαρακτηριστικό του στιλ και του ύφους του Μίλερ είναι το συγκεκριμένο βιβλιαράκι, πάντως δηλώνω εξαιρετικά ικανοποιημένος.
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Henry Miller her gün karşımıza çıkan yazarlardan değil. Başyapıtı 'Yengeç Dönencesi'ni okurken 'hayatımda okuduğum en dürüst yazar bu' diye mırıldanıp durmuştum. Sonrasında da bu hissim hiç azalmadı. Hayatı ve yazdıkları arasındaki muhteşem ilişki, kurşun geçirmez inadı, yasaklara karşı senelerce direnmesi, kendini istemediği hiçbir çarka sokmama konusundaki başarısı, yoksulluk ve sefaletten mutluluk damıtması, haz damıtması... O kadar ilham verici ki, kendimi daha güçlü hissediyorum onu her okuduğumda. O yüzden ilk okuduğum günden bu yana seneler geçti, hala en sevdiğim yazarlardan biri. Özellikle herkesin tabu saydığı şeyleri arsızca, olduğu gibi anlatması; birilerinin yüzünü kızartan konuları şov haline getirmeden, estetize etmeye çalışmadan aktarabilmesi; bir yazar olarak kitaplarında kendini bu kadar şeffaf ve bütün halinde gözler önüne sermesi... Hayranım anlayacağınız.
Bu söylediklerim 'Clichy'de Sessiz Günler' için değil, yazarın kendisi için. Çünkü bütün eserlerinde ana karakter zaten Henry Miller'dır. Hep kendi hayatından kesitler anlatır. Eserleri üst üste koydukça Miller'ı da artık yakından tanımaya başlarsınız.
Bu kitap da yazarın Paris günlerini bize aktarıyor. İki tane novella var içerisinde. Bu ikisinde de Clichy zamanlarında Carl ile yaşadıkları konu alınıyor. Bana kalırsa 'Yengeç Dönencesi'ni okumamış bir okurun, yazarın diğer kitaplarını okuması anlamsız. Oradan başlamanızı ve sonrasında, Miller'ın hayatı da ilginizi çekerse diğer kitaplarına devam etmenizi öneririm. Tek başına Miller'dan bağımsız çok fazla bir şey ifade etmeyebilir zira bu kitap. Ama benim için yazarla başka bir randevumdu.
Tabuları olmayan, kapı arkasında ağlamayan, hazzından utanmayan ve Miller'ın 'Dönence'lerini okumuş okurlara tavsiye ederim.
İyi okumalar.
7.5/10 -
ميللر ميللر ميللر الرذيلة حين تمشي على الأقلام و فوق الأوراق لا شيء هادئ في كليشي لا شيء بتاتا يمت للهدوء بصلة ليالي صاخبة حمراء و بكل ألوان النبيذ التي تعرفها فرنسا بين أحيائها السفلية و الخلفية ..هذا هو ميللر يجيد الحديث الجاد كما يجيد الكلام الملغم بالآثام..يتجرد من الحياء تجرده من الاستعارات ليوضح الأمور كما هي بدون تجميل ..المثير أن ميللر لا يدري أننا نتعامل مع كتبه نفس تعامله مع العاهرات نحبها في وقتها و نحتفظ بذكراها معنا لكننا نضعها في الرف و نتناول التالي...أيام هادئة في كليشي توقع الأخبث منها.
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У часи тотального панування смерті випадкові знахідки і прояви нестримної жаги до життя зачаровують і вражають.
Пригоди в Парижі між двома світовими війнами не можуть бути цнотливими, відтак і різноманітні гедоністичні авантурники злітаються на світло нічних ресторанів та барів і тепло розпусних жіночих тіл з усього світу. І літератори з пуританських Сполучених Штатів Америки серед таких – не пасуть задніх. Як і Ернест Гемінґвей в "Святі, яке завжди з тобою" вони часто не мають, що їсти. А з іншого боку – якось знаходять достатньо ресурсів і фантазії на користування послугами повій.
"Тихі дні в Кліші" Генрі Міллера це ностальгійна і відверта розповідь про старі добрі розпусні дні від уже немолодого письменника.
Було скандально і шокуюче відверто, місцями потворно, але, дивним чином, в певному сенсі романтично вештатися з alter ego автора Джоуї та його приятелем Карлом, бухати, розкидатися грошима (коли вони раптом падають з неба) і спати (ну тобто як спати...) з одними і тими ж жінками, влаштовувати невдалі оргії, тікати від божевільних повій, лікувати венеричні болячки – зовсім не те, чому можна було би позаздрити, але ж і неможливо не захоплюватися такою невтомною жагою до життя.
Читаючи "Тихі дні в Кліші" я не просто відчував, як розпуста дихає мені в спину (якщо ви розумієте, про що я) – нєєє, розпуста дихала мені у вухо та шию, кусала за плече і вишкрябувала нігтями криваві руни на лопатках. -
Interesting book to read if you are familiar with Montmartre and Parisian hotspots, and also wonderful to see an author who really doesn't care what he says or who he might offend with his shocking use of language. Enjoyable offering from Henry Miller.
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أيام هادئة لصديقين في مدينة السحر والعطر باريس في فرنسا بين ليالي من التسكع في الأزقة من أجل إستدراج إحدى العاهرات للمنزل والاسهاب في الوصف و السرد الذي في الكثير من الأحيان كان ممل جدا ! ومكررا جدا في الكثير من الأجزاء هي ليست إيروتيكية بل تثير الغثيان لإحتواءها و وصفها مشاهد الجنس أكثر من الأحداث اللتي كانت شبه منعدمة ، تتلخص في دخول و خروج فتيات حياة البطلين المملة
رواية عن شابين ليس لديهما عمل قار ولا حبيبة حقيقية ولا حياة مستقرة ، بين اللهو و التسكع و القمار يقضيان أيامهما دون مبالاة أو هدف حقيقي ، في بعض الليالي هما جائعان و في ليالي أخرى يحتسيان الخمر و يصطحبن عاهرات بمختلف أنواعهن.
رغم أنها ليست رواية طويلة لكنني استغرقت وقتا طويلا حقا لإنهاءها لأنني و كأني كنت أقرأ مشهد جنسي أو عاطفي يتكرر بتفاصيله في كل عشر صفحات مع فتيات مختلفات !
لا أحداث ولا حبكة تشد الإنتباه أو تثير الرغبة في إنهاء قراءتها، رواية رتيبة الإيقاع مملة التفاصل شحيحة الأحداث ! مملة و مبتذلة. -
""Šta bih radila?" ,začuđeno je ponovila." Ništa ne bih radila Samo bih živela."
Kakva ideja! Kakva zdrava ideja! Zavideo sam joj što je takva flegma, što je tako nemarna i bezbrižna. Terao sam je da mi priča o tome kako ništa ne bi radila. To je bio ideal o kokavome nikad nisam sanjao. Da ga ostvari, čovekbi morao da bude savršeno prazan, ili veoma bogatog duha.Bolje je, smatrao sam, biti prazan." -
This has been my favorite Henry Miller, especially for lines like "I was that peppery, I could have raped a nun."
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المشكلة أنه لا يوجد قصة .. لو طلبت مني أن أعيد لك سرد ما قرأت لن أستطيع .. هناك كاتبان لا يفعلان شيئاً سوى جرع الخمر ولقاء العاهرات .. لو جلست مع بلطجي سيحكي لك ما هو أفضل.
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поредната глупава книга на хенри милър, която ми беше приятно да прочета.
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Дві повісті, що видаються на викинуті з фінальної редакції «Тропіку Рака» шматки
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قرات من فتره طويله صفحات من روايه مدار السرطان وما قدرت اكملها كانت ممله
وبعدها جربت اقرا هالروايه وصلت 40 صفحه ولا كملتها ممله جدا
وما زلت ابحث عن مفتاح لاعماله **
***الروايه المفتاح لكل روائي مفتاح تدخل به إلى عالمه الروائي، ويختلف هذا المفتاح من قارئ لآخر، فبعض القراء لم يفلحوا في قراءة «يوليسس» لجيمس جويس إلا بعد أن أحبوا مجموعته القصصية «أهالي دبلن»، والبعض لم يفعل إلا بعد أن قرأ «صورة الفنان في شبابه»، والبعض الآخر لم يجد له مفتاحا حتى الآن، وأنا من هؤلاء» اقتباس من مقال لبلال فضل -
I would put a spoiler alert up here, but does anyone NOT know what they're going to find in a Henry Miller novel? Well, if you don't . . .
"Quiet Days in Clichy" is Miller's tale of being young in Paris in the 30s, a tale he re-worked and published in 1956. It's the usual raconteur's delight of meals, whores, sex, spiritual insight, mysticism and scenery that makes Henry Miller Henry Miller.
Miller was famously dissected by Kate Millet in her 1970 book "Sexual Politics" -- torn to shreds, with each shred pinned like a butterfly -- and people STILL like reading him. Women included.
So why?
As a writer I'm going to say it's his voice.
Voice is the hardest and the most subtle element of writing to teach, to understand, or to accomplish -- and he just had it. He wrote with an ease; he went from scene to scene in such a natural way that people just like reading him. I would compare his writing to Isaac Singer's in that way (and that way only). Additionally, there's the outrageous sexual point of view present in Miller's writing, a POV that still has power in our age, as "sex workers" form unions.
Isaac Singer? So where's Henry's Nobel Prize?
(Ahh, I guess it's too late now.)
ps. If you like Henry Miller track down a photograph of him taken in Big Sur. It shows him playing ping pong, naked, with two beautiful naked young women. Not salacious; it might make you smile. -
Imagine you’re an aspiring writer and everything is possible. Each of your fantasies about bohemian Parisian life, every fin de siecle dream you ever had, all that longing for good old times suddenly comes to hit you in the face. You make up for the lack of money with attitude and, strangely, that works. And so does the book. It’s more of a series of sketches, that only provide brief outlines of the characters, without prying too much, a literary one-night stand if you like.
"Quiet Days in Clichy" is a textual encounter that stimulates your imagination and makes you laugh at the awkward and ridiculous that only happens in bed. Sometimes it almost feels like you’re rummaging through Henry Miller’s stash of polaroids or a guestbook, filled by the people who only existed for a moment and left without a trace, save for a whiff of cigarette smoke and a crazy poem written in red lipstick on a bathroom mirror. -
I always enjoy Henry Miller. Here's a passage that I liked: "There are hotels in the side streets leading off the boulevard whose ugliness is so sinister that you shudder at the thought of entering them, and yet it is inevitable that you will one day pass a night, perhaps a week or a month, in one of them. You may even become so attached to the place as to find one day that your whole life has been transformed and that what you once regarded as sordid, squalid, miserable, has now become charming, tender, beautiful."
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Sometimes I can't separate the work from the morals/actions. But Henry Miller is just too charming to not forgive (ignore?) his objectification of women and revel with him as he fucks every girl that walks by and treats them like shit. Maybe it's just too romanticized in my mind--a starving writer in Paris going on bender after bender. Whatever it is, he's a beautiful writer. Even if he is a pig.
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لمْ تكنْ أيامُ ميللر هادئةً كما يُشعِرُ عنوانُ كتابِه بل كانتْ صاخبةً زاعقةً. ميللر هنا هو هو كما في رواياتِه ليسجلَ شيئًا من يومياتِه عندما كان يعيشُ حياةَ التشردِ في باريسَ، ما زلتُ أعتقدُ حتى بعدَ أن أنهيتُ الكتابَ أنَّ الجنسَ هنا "ما هو إلا قشرةٌ خارجيةٌ" ويبقى غوصُه في تحليل الطبيعةِ البشريةِ لضحاياه أمر يدعو للتقديرِ وفيه عمق كبيرٌ جعلَ منْ كتابِه الصغيرِ تحفةً رائعةً
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Henry Miller is my most hated writer. Sir, I'm glad you had a chance to bang so many chicks. Very radical.
