4.5/5
"I can believe that we are all hanging by the neck, that it is the moment between the springing of the trap and the snapping of the cerebrospinal cord, which brings about the last most exquisite ejaculation."
As a person who defintely enjoys solitude, I appreciate Miller's writings about isolation and his ferine philosophical diatribes which holds much substance to him as a writer. His prose, the opposite of blasé, is like an opiod that induces you to become a dog.

Terminar de leer Sexus de Henry Miller fue una "crucifixión" realmente. Las escenas sexuales quizás lo más comentado acerca del libro no llamaron mi atención, quizás por el hecho de leerlo en una época donde el sexo y la pornografía instantánea pueblan los medios haciendo que la fuerza reveladora que originalmente tuvo el libro quede empañada. Mi lectura no fue por ese aspecto particular como podría sugerir el título del libro, más bien lo hice por la interrogante de saber los inicios del Miller que terminó en París en Trópico de Cáncer, curiosidad por personajes literarios por ponerlo de otro modo. Lo que no esperé al comprar el libro fue encontrarme con una prueba de resistencia a las descripciones y los monólogos interiores de Miller, al llegar a la página 300 estaba agotado y solo era la mitad del libro, buscaba una trama y no existía, buscaba algo en el personaje o en su historia que me genere empatía y tampoco hallaba nada, fue como vislumbrar un largo túnel con ventanas ocasionales. Raras ventanas de luz que se presentaron en forma de conversaciones sobre el papel del artista y su relación con el arte o hilarantes anécdotas como el japonés aficionado a los servicios sexuales de muchachas americanas. Interesante ver como el proyecto de Miller por desenmascarar la hipocresía de la sociedad en torno a lo sexual terminó convirtiéndose en parte fundamental de su estilo, tomando como base la presentación directa de sus experiencias junto con las reflexiones que este tenía desde su particular punto de vista, hasta ahí todo esta muy bien, pero cuando extendemos esto a 632 páginas hace de la lectura un ejercicio extenuante. Seré feliz sabiendo que Miller conoció posteriormente en su vida de casado a la verdadera Mona ( la del último capítulo ) y que terminará viajando a París con 10 doláres prestados en el bolsillo. El ciclo se ha cerrado.

Actualización 9 de Marzo del 2012.

Bukowsky on Miller

If Henry Miller reviews me and it comes out bad, don’t worry. I once reviewed Henry Miller. I was in a little bus station in the middle of Texas and some gal who had been ramming her tongue down my throat went into the ladies’ room and I walked over to the newsstand with my hair down in my eyes and I bought one of the Cancers, I forget which, and Henry understood that the only way to get to a man was to speak the language of the day, the present tongue, but he got to a part where he talked about a guy with a big cock and how he made it with all the women with THIS BIG COCK, and he went on and on with this and I began getting sleepy and worse…worse than ANYTHING, I got the idea that Henry Miller the ALL-KNOWING didn’t know much more about fucking than to talk about it, and that’s the way most non-fuckers are.
You know, I wonder if Henry Miller is really all that good? I've tried to read his books on cross-country buses but when he gets into those long parts in between sex he is a very dull fellow indeed. On cross-country buses I usually have to put down my Henry Miller and try to find somebody's legs to look up, preferably female

For once I can say, honestly, with hand on my heart: It's not me, it's Miller. I'm not even sorry that his ramblings are not at all interesting.

I intended to give it 3 stars but because of the last 2 chapters - almost 50 pages - i decided that it deserve the 4 stars.

The big difference between "Sexus" and his first two gems "Tropic of Cancer" and "Tropic of Capricorn" is that here there's a lot of sex without any aesthetic or artistic purposes. Also many times i feel he constrained the events and encounters with other characters. his ordinary nonsense about life and women reach another high limit.

He still got the great talent of a bohemian artist, still use the most remarkable language among American novelists. You can keep reading for many successive hours without felling boring except for the unnecessary porn scenes.

The most remarkable parts in Sexus are :
- When he tried to get rid of Maude by convincing her ex-lover to save her from him.
- The party he arranged for his friends when he got the bonus.
- His definition of creation and creativity.
- How Melanie got into the book.
- His dream of Una.
- Kent Hamson's letter.
- Finally the most beautiful parts i've ever read by Miller until now is the last 50 pages which starts with Cleo at Minsky brothers then the two deaths of Osmanli the Turk, and the end with Miller the dog and his woof! woof!.

E, contudo... e, contudo, apesar de todos os indícios exteriores de sermos unidos, inter-relacionados, sociáveis (...), quase fraternais, apesar de tudo isso somos um povo solitário, uma manada mórbida e enlouquecida que se debate num frenesi zeloso, tentando esquecer que (...) somos apenas algarismos manobrados por mão invisível num cálculo que não nos diz respeito.

Serei provavelmente uma das poucas pessoas que pega num romance de Henry Miller sem saber o que esperar; mas o facto é que quando vi o Sexus numa banca de livros em segunda mão, Henry Miller era só uma vaga recordação a que não sabia muito bem o que associar. Decidi-me a explorar; e ainda bem.

Já no prefácio deste livro me informam que o cavalheiro é por demais conhecido como sendo provocador nato, escritor erótico e depravado, que com grande escândalo expunha sem grandes preocupações de suavização os aspetos mais gráficos e despudorados da sua vida de boémio em Nova Iorque. Mas a impressão final com que me deixou este Sexus é a de que é um grave erro desqualificar Henry Miller como sendo somente um provocador; coisa que, por si só, não tem o menor interesse. O que mais atrai neste romance é justamente a crueza do nosso protagonista-escritor: a sua vida aparece tal como era, sem muito se preocupar com pós de arroz que a possam fazer menos decadente ou mais digna. Com efeito, em vários momentos, o nosso bom companheiro ergue-se como um monumento à indignidade. Esta crueza é por vezes dolorosa, por vezes depravada, mas é, acima de tudo honesta e inteligente.

Porque Miller tem um olho vivo com que observa o mundo à sua volta, aceitando-o como é, e não como outros gostariam que fosse. Por vezes, a assertividade pode ser excessiva - é o género de assertividade que pertence aos que tem a certeza de possuir a verdade última sobre as coisas do mundo - e dá-lhe certo ar de pretensiosidade; mas pretensioso ou não, certo ou errado, nunca Henry Miller comete o grande pecado de ser desinteressante. É uma mente fascinante. Se Dostoievski fosse um depravado, poderia ser Henry Miller; porque é realmente esta inteligência com que analisa a sua vida e o mundo à sua volta que fazem deste livro uma coisa inesquecível.

O livro aborda uma fase da vida de Miller em Nova Iorque, na qual se apaixona pela sua segunda mulher, June Miller (no livro chamada Mara, e depois Mona), e deixa a sua primeira mulher, Beatrice (Maude no livro). Com muita depravidade pelo meio, ou não fosse Henry Miller homem para achar que amar ou ser amado não é nenhum crime. O que é realmente criminoso é convencer alguém de que ele ou ela é a única pessoa que jamais se poderá amar. É, no fundo, uma demanda por uma liberdade absoluta que é impossível de alcançar.

n  Aquilo por que aspirava secretamente era desembaraçar-me de todas as vidas que se tinham entretecido no padrão da minha própria vida e estavam a transformar o meu destino numa parte do seu destino.n

​Momentami ta książka jest świetna. Są fragmenty doskonałej, soczystej prozy, w której mnóstwo się dzieje. Jest żywa i brutalna i bardzo sexy. Nie tylko dlatego, że dosadne opisy seksu w różnorakich konfiguracjach są tu na porządku dziennym. Także dlatego, że jest psychologicznie wiarygodna.
Ale ponieważ to nie jest zwykła książka, tylko powieść z wielkimi ambicjami, więc ta świetna proza jest przetykana rozmyślaniami dotyczącymi filozofii, psychologii czy nawet teorii literatury. I te fragmenty są czasem okropnie nużące. Niektóre są przemądre a nawet inspirujące (na przykład rozmyślania o wpływie pośladków na charakter człowieka), ale przez niektóre przebrnąłem z trudem.
Ta powieść jest niezwykła ze względu na bohaterów i to co się z nimi dzieje. Jest obrazoburcza i musiała w czasach, gdy była publikowana być bardzo szokująca. Ale wygląda to tak, jakby autor chciał uzasadnić łamanie tabu tymi właśnie wstawkami filozoficznymi. Jak by chciał przekonać publiczność, że to nie jest tylko książka o pieprzeniu się ze wszystkimi bezustannie. (Bukowski nie miał tego problemu).
Więc lubię w tej książce bezkompromisowość. Ale nie przepadam za przemądrzalstwem.
Ale ogólnie cieszę się, że ją przeczytałem i na pewno przeczytam kolejne części.

P.S. Ta książka kipi seksem. Ale seksem z początków 20 wieku. Więc młodzież powinna wiedzieć, że stosowane w niej metody antykoncepcyjne to średniowiecze. Nie róbcie tego w domu! Prysznic po stosunku seksualnym nie chroni przed niechcianą ciążą ;-)

a large number of pages filled with spiralling thoughts that lead to scenes of dialogue, then back into his head in a completely chaotic way. so fucked up yet completely self-aware. curious, obscene, pornographic and philosophical too. took me years to read this but fucking loved it.

This is such a difficult book to write about because it's so expansive and so forthright in its world view. This is my first foray into Henry Miller and lets just say that it has truly altered my perceptions, and affected my world view. Miller is a nutjob, and often times you can't help but loathe his actions and are revolted by his way of thinking, but this is where he succeeds and makes his strongest victories. Miller's writing is the most confessional personal essay one can imagine. He never shies away from telling us of his more devious visions in order to create a more likeable personality for himself. He strips himself bare and includes his most bizarre sexual and primal impulses. Obviously there is a strong emphasis on the book's sexual proclivities as it was a pivotal moment in the deconstruction of our country's censorship laws, but Miller (I believe) is not trying to be overtly graphic in his sex writing merely to shock people so he can sell more books. In my opinion he includes the sex scenes in all their detailed glory because he wants to give them as much space in his writing as they exist in his world. Sex is a huge part of most people's lives, be it actually having sex or merely thinking about it. Miller was an especially amorous person, so a book about his life is going to contain a lot of sexual writing. Is this a sensational way to write a book? Damn right. But the beauty of Miller is that he couldn't give two shits. He is driven and unrepentant of any of his beliefs. He wasn't trying to start a revolution here, he was just writing the only way he could. And controversial subject matter aside, it's just worth reading for the poetic style of his prose which contains some of the most aesthetically beautiful sentences, forget content, that I have ever read. There are times I would read paragraphs out loud to myself just to hear the way they sounded coming off my tongue. So yeah, I like Henry Miller. He has won me over as a convert and I'm very excited to delve deeper into his other writings.

2 out of 5 stars looks like a horrible rating, a low grade, especially for a novel and a writer of such vaunted reputation, but according to the perky Goodreads rubric 2 stars means "it was ok," and for me this book was highly, enjoyably, provocatively ok. For much of it, I was intrigued and held fast, occasionally thrilled, and for much of it I was also bored and wondering about the writer's project. This novel is not confessional or autobiographical - unless I decide to believe that young Henry Miller really was such an unfailing triumphant satyr whose cock is superhuman, sensed and desired by every woman he meets, and also a man so unstoppably charismatic as to elicit such fervent admiration and affection, verging on awe, even from people inclined to be hostile to him. He is frequently likened to a god by shallowly drawn characters who give him money, take care of him, and fuck him while he almost never grants any affection, admiration, or assistance. It is so dissonant and repetitive it begins to feel like a put-on. Fellini might have filmed this with a single inebriated slob raving at a set full of mannequins (and fucking them of course), and it would be a fair adaptation.

Then there are passages of fantasy and stream of consciousness that delight, a riot of images expressed in rich language, in a form that isn't quite prose anymore but what else is it? I enjoyed some of this writing very much but for a long book written in the voice of a young cad desperate to be seen and heard as a prophet, it has surprisingly little to say. As a word-picture of exuberant inspiration linked closely to physical craving, it is truthful in its way and sometimes beautiful.

The sex for which the book is famous is not shocking in 2016; neither is it erotic, titillating, or affectionate. He does capture - in gestures and sensations - something of yearning lust that almost cops to loneliness and tenderness, but never fear, we are soon back to another monologue about the universe and/or preposterous marathon fuck session with unfailing erections and rivers of spooj - all hail, Henry Miller's penis. But his sexual partners, even the two women he appears to crave consistently (I'm not sure I'd call his feeling for them love), are receptacles for his body and his passion. By the novel's hallucinatory end with Miller being patted and cooed over like a dog, I almost felt like I was being used, too.

The life of a lunatic/hedonist/epicurist as he meets his new love-of-his-life. A semi-autobiographical work by Henry Miller. He masters narrative in a way that I have rarely seen, creating a story that is fantastic without breaking the limits of possibility.

Man has sex. Other things happen also

Ο Χένρι Μίλερ στα καλύτερά του. Ακόμα κι όταν η πεζογραφία είναι κουραστική και μακρόσυρτη, το χιούμορ του λάμπει.
Το Sexus είναι ο πρώτος τόμος της τριλογίας Ρόδινη Σταύρωση και είναι μια αυτοβιογραφική ιστορία των δύο πρώτων γάμων του Μίλερ, της κακής δουλειάς του και της προοπτικής να γίνει επαγγελματίας συγγραφέας.
Επειδή όμως δεν πρόκειται για ένα συνηθισμένο βιβλίο, αλλά για ένα μυθιστόρημα με μεγάλες φιλοδοξίες, αυτή η σπουδαία πεζογραφία είναι συνυφασμένη με στοχασμούς για τη φιλοσοφία, την ψυχολογία, ακόμη και τη λογοτεχνική θεωρία.
Αυτό το μυθιστόρημα είναι εξαιρετικό λόγω των χαρακτήρων και του τι συμβαίνει σε αυτούς.
Γεμάτο πάθος, ανεμπόδιστο και ξεκάθαρο.
Ο Μίλερ είναι σαγηνευτικός και σε κάνει να παθιάζεσαι μαζί του. Σε κάνει να τον μισείς επειδή είναι εγωκεντρικός, αλλά ταυτόχρονα τον αγαπάς και σε ελκύει με τη σεξουαλική του ελευθερία.
Μπορεί να υπάρχουν άνθρωποι εκεί έξω που βρίσκουν το στυλ του ρηχό και άδειο, καθώς η ζωή του αφορούσε τον εαυτό του, το σεξ, τον εαυτό του, τη λογοτεχνία, τον εαυτό του, το σεξ, το αλκοόλ, το σεξ...
Όμως ο Μίλερ είναι τρελός και πολλές φορές δεν μπορείς παρά να μισείς τις πράξεις του και να επαναστατείς με τον τρόπο σκέψης του.
Κατά τη γνώμη μου, περιλαμβάνει τις σκηνές του σεξ σε όλο τους το μεγαλείο γιατί θέλει να τους δώσει τόσο χώρο στο γραπτό του όσο υπάρχουν στον κόσμο του. Απογυμνώνεται και περιγράφει τις πιο παράξενες σεξουαλικές και αρχέγονες παρορμήσεις του.
Ο Μίλερ ήταν ένα ιδιαίτερα ερωτικό άτομο, έτσι ένα βιβλίο για τη ζωή του θα περιέχει πολλά σεξουαλικά γραπτά.

Η ζωή είναι μια γιγάντια βόλτα και ο Μίλερ μας παίρνει από τους ώμους και μας τραντάζει, μας χαστουκίζει στο πρόσωπο. Είναι μια βόλτα αφύπνισης, ένα κάλεσμα για δράση. Να μεθύσεις από την ελευθερία και να απολαύσεις τη ζωή. Άσε ό,τι σε κρατάει πίσω…