مجموعة خواطر كتبها الأمريكي هنري ميلر يتحدث فيها عن كراهيته لأمريكا وسياستها وطبيعه مجتمعها ويقارنها بدول اوروبا وخصوصًا بفرنسا، الكتاب ممل بعض الشيء لكثرة سرد نفس النقاط وتكرارها

Hmm, how to rate this book. There are some absolutely great chapters focusing on places he visits as well as some strange characters he meets along the way that are fascinating. Unfortunately, it’s not long before he cannot help but wank on about Paris. We get it, you had a great time. I’ve read around ten books by Miller and half of those are based on his time in Paris. We don’t need to hear more about it. So yeah, I think the main problem is that I feel cheated as it’s half travelogue, half reminiscences of Paris.

Strictly for Miller fans.

Truly fantastic book.

Henry Miller returns home to the USA from Europe at the outbreak of WWII and decides to spend a year traveling around the country and writing about it.

At first I was skeptical, as he had become a true Europhile and had a certain disdain for his country, so much so that I thought the whole book would turn into "Why Europe is superior." Whereas he probably did actually believe that, as soon as he escaped New York City, where he grew up, and breezed through the Rust Belt, which was booming at that point with giant factories making the industrialists rich, and arrived in the South, everything shifted.

His observations of the people, culture, and sense of place on the South were magnificent. I particularly loved "The Shadows," a story about Weeks Hall and his home in New Iberia, Lousiana. I also loved "The Soul of Aenethesia" and "My Dream of Mobile" for their character portrayal of an ex-con at the end of the Depression and for a snapshot of a city in dream form versus reality, respectively.

The great writing does not start and stop in the South, his observations of the Southwest and California are also beautiful and stunning. "Day in the Park," was my favorite from this set, for its portrayal of children living in a motor lodge along Route 66. I love the beautiful description of scenery that matched my own views from many road trips in "From Grand Canyon to Burbank." And finally "Desert Rat," was another amazing portrait of a common man living in the desert, akin to "The Soul of Aenethesia" mentioned above.

Highly recommend this one, and definitely don't skip the introduction, Miller's astute observations of the American psyche post-Depression and pre-WWII are incredible.

I hadn't read Henry Miller since 2001 and forgot how brilliant his prose is in the service of indignation. That said, Miller's rage at American consumerism, corporatism, materialism, and all-around ignorance -- a feeling with which I duly agree -- once in a while, but far too often, sails past insightfulness and lands in the realm of self-righteousness, leading one to suspect that underneath his bohemian persona lies a secret aristocrat. This from the last chapter of The Air-Conditioned Nightmare:

"In Mississippi, near the banks of the great river itself, I came upon the ruins of Windsor. Nothing now remains of this great house but the high, vine-covered Grecian columns. There are so many elegant and mysterious ruins throughout the South, so much death and desolation, so much ghostliness. And always in the fairest spots, as if the invader aiming at the vital centers struck also at the pride and hope of his victim. One is inevitably induced to reflect on what might have been had this promising land been spared the ravages of war, for in our Southern States that culture known as the 'slave culture' had exhibited only its first blossoms. We know what the slave cultures of India, Egypt, Rome and Greece bequeathed the world. We are grateful for the legacy; we do not spurn the gift because it was born of injustice. Rare is the man who, looking upon the treasures of antiquity, thinks at what an iniquitous price they were fashioned. Who has the courage, confronted with these miracles of the past, to exclaim: 'Better these things had never been than that one single human being had been deprived of his rightful freedom.'"

In other words, the end justifies the means. (And isn't history dialectical? Cannot one look upon such marvels and think of not only their beauty but also at what price they were fashioned?)

(Also, I wasn't much interested in the chapters about Miller's artist friends. Seemed to belong to another book. I was expecting something big about America, and The Air-Conditioned Nightmare seemed to frequently run from that artistic task.)

Picked up at least my third copy of this.
Kinda wanted to read it again after the last tour...

هنري ميللر يهذي بطريقته الساحرة كالعادة، لم تكن رواية ولا أعلم لم صنفت كذلك، هي ذكرياته وحكايا مغامرته لما قرر اكتشاف وطنه "أميركا" من جديد لعله يجد سببا ليحبها وهو المشهور باحتقاره لها.
يصف المدن التي مر بها وآراءه حولها، الأشخاص الذين عرج عليهم والمواقف التي حصلت له وغير ذلك عن ذكريات وانطباعات كثيرة. الكتاب ممتع بشكل عام وبالنسبة لي أردت أن أقيمه بـ ٤ نجوم، ولكن لضعف الترجمة المزعجة أشعر أن فكرة الكتاب لم تصلني كاملة، ولأنني شعرت أن الكاتب يكرر بعض الأفكار. أحداث الكتاب ليست كثيرة وذات إيقاع هادئ، لكن ميللر كعادته يكتب وهو يصرخ ويبصق في وجه كل شيء فهو دائما منزعج.
وأحيانا تشعر وأنت تقرأ كأنك تركض، فكرة تجرّ فكرة وجملة أقوى مما قبلها لأنه إما متطرف في مدح مايعجبه أو متطرف متهكم في ذم مايكرهه، ويصبح أحيانا كرجل حكيم طحنته الحياة فكتب خُلاصتها. كتاب جميل لكن لا تبدأ به لهنري ميلر.

*الترجمة ركيكة خصوصا في الوصف، لما يأتي مقطع يصف -والكتاب أغلبه وصفي- مكان أو لوحة تصبح الكلمات غريبة واللغة ركيكة جدا بالكاد أفهمها! نجمة واحدة فقط للترجمة.

The problem with the literature of finger-pointing is obvious when the finger is so thick and the misdirection so thin.

i think this is my favorite miller...he rambles, to be sure, but he's rambling about the america we all love to hate. i much prefer this to the sexus plexus nexus messes, which have moments of brilliance, but....damn dude, get an editor.

Old Man Yells At Cloud

I surrender!!!!!

I generally love Henry Miller, but I don't need another reason to blow my brains out. And traveling the country during the last great depression is reason enough, but to compair it to Europe.....


For my own sanity I had to stop.

I would only recommend this to a Henry Miller fan. There are some great ideas expressed, as well as styles. I would also recommend this book to artists or any kind. IT is inspiring to say the least, however, it isn't as powerful as the Tropics. It wasn't meant to be. It's Henry Miller, a bit older, smoother, but still filled with universal zest.

I should have started my foray into Miller with one of his fiction masterpieces, but I got this book on the cheap. It's beautifully written with some fantastic essays (particularly on the decaying Southern United States). The content is uneven. There are some real stinkers and the work on art criticism was somewhat lost on me.