Incipit
“Uauf! Uauf uauf! Uauf! Uauf!”
Abbaiare nella notte.
Nexus Incipitmania.com

Can human mind be healthy or is any human thought morbid?

Loving and loathing; accepting and rejecting; grasping and disdaining; longing and spurning: this is the disease of the mind.

Reading Nexus I quite often had an impression that I was reading some contemporary version of The Ship of Fools.

Think of the military, with their perpetual talk of the enemy. Think of the clergy, with their perpetual talk of sin and damnation. Think of the legal fraternity, with their perpetual talk of fine and imprisonment. Think of the medical profession, with their perpetual talk of disease and death. And our educators, the greatest fools ever, with their parrot-like rote and their innate inability to accept any idea unless it be a hundred or a thousand years old. As for those who govern the world, there you have the most dishonest, the most hypocritical, the most deluded and the most unimaginative beings imaginable.

Henry Miller at times glides and at times stumbles through life, literature and philosophy; sometimes he turns realistic, sometimes – surrealistic, sometimes he is rational, sometimes – irrational, but always he remains original.

Often, after a session with Spengler or Elie Faure, I would throw myself on the bed fully clothed and, instead of musing about ancient cultures, I would find myself groping through a labyrinthian world of fabrications. Neither of them seems capable of telling the truth, even about such a simple matter as going to the toilet.

Nexus is a series of connections linking two or more things – our consciousness is a nexus linking us to the world.

200 صفحه آخر بسی خوب بود.

Nexus è la conclusione perfetta della Crocifissione in Rosa. Pubblicato da Mondadori nel 1979 il libro è stato però pubblicato in lingua originale nel 1960.

Fortemente autobiografico, è il racconto degli ultimi mesi di Henry Miller a New York prima di partire per Parigi insieme a June (Mona nel testo).

Si avverte nell'autore la necessità di un mondo diverso, che sia altro dalla meccanica e capitalistica New York nel periodo della Grande Depressione; un mondo fatto di arte, di crescita, di felicità. Di vita. Una vita a cui non si sente destinato, dubitando sempre più delle sue capacità di scrittore, sempre più ossessionato e spaventato dalle difficoltà economiche in cui versa e dei più variegati modi in cui la moglie riesce a farli tirare avanti.

Meno meccanico e cupo di Plexus, è la teorizzazione filosofica dell'arte di Miller. Poco sesso, poche divagazioni. Tanta vita, tanto da imparare.

E se siete aspiranti scrittori, le quasi 2000 pagine della Crocifissione in Rosa, vi faranno prudere le punte delle dita. Come se non poteste fare altro che scrivere.

Miller può piacere o non piacere, ma io ascolterei quello che dice di lui uno dei più grandi scrittori del Novecento:

"La mia opinione è che sia il solo scrittore in prosa che abbia immaginazione e valore, apparso negli ultimi anni tra i popoli di lingua inglese. Anche se si potrebbe obiettare che la mia sia una valutazione eccessiva, bisognerebbe ammettere che Miller è uno scrittore fuori dell'ordinario, a cui val la pena di rivolgersi più a lungo che con un semplice sguardo; dopotutto essendo come scrittore completamente negativo, non costruttivo e amorale, una specie di semplice Jonah, uno che accetta passivamente il male, una sorta di Walt Whitman tra i cadaveri."

Chi potrebbe mai essere a dire una cosa del genere? George Orwell. Che di immaginazione e valore, direi che se ne intendeva.

Non so se consigliarvi di imbarcarvi nell'avventura di queste migliaia di pagine. 3 libri. Tante pagine, spesso lente e difficili. Ma alla fine... Non sarete più gli stessi.

Diventati grandi all'improvviso. Anche dopo i trent'anni.

From Cancer to Nexus, with Nin's Henry and June to complete the picture from a third, outsider's eye. Miller's joie de vivre, pervasive in his texts, is darkened by the biographies of the personages he fed off in order to write: June Mansfield, Jean Kronski, and their regrettable ends... A shame Nexus does not end on a more reflective, self-analytical note.

That being said, the entire story is mesmerising, and somewhat tragic. It will linger in my thoughts for a long time.

با تموم افکارت این جا میشینی و میشی سلطان جهان. این جمله ی معصومانه ی رب به عمق مغزم رسوخ کرد و چنان آرامشی ایجاد کرد که یک لحظه احساس کردم واقعا با تمام وجود معنای این کلمه را درک می کنم.

لم أقرأ من قبل للروائي الأمريكي هنري ميلر, و لكن قررت أن أقرأ ثلاثيته "الصليب الوردي".
في الجزء الأول "الصبوات" كانت الإيروتيكية تنضح منه في شكل و أسلوب لم أقرأ أجمل و أكثر إبداعا منه, خاصة و أتها مستقاة من حياته الشخصية و ليست مجرد تخيلات و عنفوانات جنسية, أما الجزء الثاني "الضفيرة" فكان أكثر عمقا في حياة ميلر اليومية و فلسفته الخاصة و معاناته المالية و الحياتية و كيف سيتحول إلى كاتب...
أما في هذا الجزء الثالث و الأخير "الوشيجة" فهو ينتقل بنا إلى هنري ميلر الروائي, ينقلنا تماما من رؤية هنري ميلر الحياتية و المليئة بالمعاناة في الجزئين السابقين, إلى إبداع أدبي في سرد حياته و كيفية إنطلاقته الادبية الإحترافية, بالإضافة لحوارات قمة في الروعة بينه و بين بعض أصدقائه و معارفه.
تعد هذه الثلاثية ملحمة في السير الذاتية, فهنري ميلر لم يظهر لنا فيها سرد ممل عن ماذا فعل و كيف انتقلت حياته من طور إلى طور, بل ابتدع أسلوب أدبي تخيلي عقلاني جنسي في طرح هذه السيرة الذاتية...
أنصح بها جدا.

Dutch translation of "The Rosy Crucifixion Book Three Nexus" ... translations are difficult ... after reading the books in the language they were written, the Dutch versions seem contrived ...

نکسوس

قدرتمند !
با دستهایی که گلوی انسان را می گیرد چه می توان کرد ؟

Greatest trilogy I have ever read.

You'll like Nexus if, like me, you're not hung up on plot and want to sink into ideas, regardless of their sequence/flow. The book is basically a waiting room -- Miller's killing time in Brooklyn before he can transform himself as writer in Paris. In the meantime, he's got a lot to say about love, family, sex, writing, god, death, and pretty well everything.

Nexus is the third in a series, so if you haven't read the first two, you get the impression you're missing out on the specifics as to how he came to be living with his wife, Mona, as well as another flighty artist named Stasia. Stasia eventually leaves, and neither of them seem to care all that much what happened to her, and enjoy being free of her, though they both love(d) her. He calls it a "poverty-stricken sort of freedom... What a drab, dismal, fateful day that is when the lover suddenly realizes that he is no longer possessed, that he is cured, so to speak, of his great love!"

No one can accuse Miller of trying to write about anything other than what he knows, so naturally a lot of the book is simply his thoughts on writing. He says point-blank what every aspiring writer has probably said to him/herself, but never had the balls to put into words. "The great question was that eternal, seemingly unanswerable one: What have I to say that has not been said before, and thousands of times, by men infinitely more gifted? Was it sheer ego, this coercive need to be heard? In what way was I unique? For if I was not unique then it would be like adding a cipher to an incalculable astronomic figure."
And later, "Do you know what's the matter with me? I'm a chameleon. Every author I fall in love with I want to imitate -- if only I could imitate myself!" He's hard on himself, but has this refreshing way of accepting his shortcomings: "What could be more considerate -- better manners! -- than to treat thoughts, ideas, inspiration flashes, as flowers of delight? ... But to exploit (the idea), to send it out to work like a whore or a stockbroker, -- unthinkable. For me it was enough to have been inspired, not be perpetually inspired."

Miller's descriptions are so original - the kind of scenes you'll have no choice but to think about again, when something will trigger it. He goes to sweaty, throbbing nightclub, for example, saying: "I merely craved to become like an ordinary mortal, a jellyfish, if you like, in the ocean of drift. I asked for nothing more than to be swished and sloshed about in an eddying pool of fragrant flesh under subaqueous rainbow of subdued and intoxicating lights." This is a portion of this huge, perfect image he creates of a dancefloor.

I don't think I'll go out of my way to read the first two in the series unless they somehow fall into my possession, but if you love Miller's style, Nexus won't disappoint.

Goodbye bullshit, goodbye long winded crap about absolutely pointless drivel, goodbye useless idiot, goodbye poor excuse for a writer, goodbye several pages of nonsense, goodbye waste of time, goodbye waste of money, goodbye absolute boredom, I could go on but I will Henry do that