StartGroepenDiscussieMeerTijdgeest
Doorzoek de site
Onze site gebruikt cookies om diensten te leveren, prestaties te verbeteren, voor analyse en (indien je niet ingelogd bent) voor advertenties. Door LibraryThing te gebruiken erken je dat je onze Servicevoorwaarden en Privacybeleid gelezen en begrepen hebt. Je gebruik van de site en diensten is onderhevig aan dit beleid en deze voorwaarden.

Resultaten uit Google Boeken

Klik op een omslag om naar Google Boeken te gaan.

Bezig met laden...

De kreeftskeerkring (1934)

door Henry Miller, Renate Gerhardt, Kurt Wagenseil (Vertaler)

Andere auteurs: Zie de sectie andere auteurs.

LedenBesprekingenPopulariteitGemiddelde beoordelingAanhalingen
8,779131929 (3.63)193
De auteur beschrijft zijn verblijf in Parijs.
  1. 20
    Reis naar het einde van de nacht door Louis-Ferdinand Céline (Mouseear)
  2. 20
    Factotum door Charles Bukowski (psybre)
  3. 00
    De demon door Hubert Selby Jr. (hazzabamboo)
    hazzabamboo: Filthy, sex-obsessed, unmistakably American, and characteristic lapses into stream of consciousness
  4. 00
    Het oog door Georges Bataille (fundevogel)
Bezig met laden...

Meld je aan bij LibraryThing om erachter te komen of je dit boek goed zult vinden.

Op dit moment geen Discussie gesprekken over dit boek.

» Zie ook 193 vermeldingen

Engels (113)  Deens (3)  Spaans (3)  Frans (3)  Italiaans (2)  Portugees (Portugal) (1)  Portugees (Brazilië) (1)  Portugees (1)  Hebreeuws (1)  Nederlands (1)  Alle talen (129)
Verslag van zijn verblijf in Parijs, redelijk zwartgallig, licht-surrealistisch en vooral heel ontdaan. Interessant om zijn beelden van de zelfkant van de grootstad. Heel direct in zijn seksuele beschrijvingen op het obscene af, en daardoor uiteraard 'baanbrekend'. Maar het boeit niet! ( )
  bookomaniac | Feb 13, 2010 |
How shocking Tropic of Cancer was when I got hold of a smuggled copy in the late thirties; how merely charming it is now, redolent of a Paris in which the coffee and Gauloises were alike more aromatic than they’ve been since the war, a genuine vie de bohème, the physical act of love as fresh as if the French had just invented it. Miller unbuttoned the fly and tore open the placket with a fiercer gust than Lawrence (who was still mother’s boy) or Joyce (who let language get in the way). Today’s naked generation has learned nearly everything from him – everything, that is to say, except his bookishness, his capacity for recapturing innocence, his sense of wonder, his sense of words.
toegevoegd door SnootyBaronet | bewerkNew York Times, Anthony Burgess (Jan 2, 1972)
 
What Cancer uniquely possesses is a coherent, animating vision of life—one that justifies the book's disjunctions of form, binds together its stark literalism and its reverie, and spares Miller's adventures the drabness of mere anecdote. The vision is of manic nihilism, of hunger for experience combined with scorn for the cowardly, illusion-drugged human race, which has to dream of miracles while "all the while a meter is running inside and there is no hand that can reach in there and shut it off." Miller has given up on value—and, along with it, any obligation to steel his narrative manner against the ironic fates or to tease meaning from the world with modernist devices of myth and symbol. He is simply talking, much as he will talk through thousands of subsequent pages, but with the difference that here the talk is an act of liberation, a registering of the discovery that no care need be taken to seek order, make discriminations, or check one's impulses. "If I am a hyena I am a lean and hungry one: I go forth to fatten myself."
toegevoegd door SnootyBaronet | bewerkNew York Review of Books, Frederick Crews
 
Tropic of Cancer is a good piece of writing; and it has also a sort of historical importance. It is the epitaph for the whole generation of American writers and artists that migrated to Paris after the war... It has frequently been characteristic of the American writers in Paris that they have treated pretentious subjects with incompetent style and sordid feeling. Mr. Miller has done the opposite: he has treated an ignoble subject with a sure hand at color and rhythm. He is not self-conscious and not amateurish. And he has somehow managed to be low without being really sordid.

toegevoegd door SnootyBaronet | bewerkThe New Republic, Edmund Wilson
 
Twenty-eight years have gone by since Tropic of Cancer was first published. Since then its form has become the most fashionable in modern literature. We are being overwhelmed in a pandemic of récits — especially French ones... There is only one trouble with all this stuff. It is soaked in unfathomable solemnity and pompous rhetoric. In all Genêt or Kerouac there is nothing to compare with Miller’s Hindu and the bidet, or the Imaginary Rich Girl. I’m sorry. I just don’t believe Henry when he expands and augments Count Keyserling, or recommends a Dream Book, or worries at breakfast over the astrology column in the morning paper. He’s having us all on — maybe himself included — but behind the deep thoughts from Bughouse Square, there is always, however faint, the steady rumble of low-down mockery.
toegevoegd door SnootyBaronet | bewerkThe Nation, Kenneth Rexroth
 
Henry Miller—probably the funniest American writer since Mark Twain... is the closest an American has come to Rabelais... Tropic of Cancer had a liberating spirit, because it seemed totally without hypocrisy... Miller sees friends in terms of the possible meal or bed he can cadge from them, women in terms of their sexual possibilities. Miller seems to bring us closer to "reality," seems to bring art closer to truth. But when we're reading him we don't think of his sexual hyperbole as objective description; we don't assume, for example, that all the women Miller meets are sexy sluts visibly painting for what he can give them...

The hero is amazing because he takes such joy in the diversity of possible pleasures; one imagines him as a mild little man with all-embracing tastes, a man eager to try whatever he can get, being excited by even the most unlikely ladies... Miller, one of the great characters in American literature—Huck Finn as a starving expatriate—is... a joyful coward who will always sneak away rather than face an unpleasant scene.
toegevoegd door SnootyBaronet | bewerkNew Yorker, Pauline Kael
 

» Andere auteurs toevoegen (42 mogelijk)

AuteursnaamRolType auteurWerk?Status
Miller, Henryprimaire auteuralle editiesbevestigd
Gerhardt, Renateprimaire auteuralle editiesbevestigd
Wagenseil, KurtVertalerprimaire auteuralle editiesbevestigd
康雄, 大久保翻訳Secundaire auteursommige editiesbevestigd
Gerhardt, RenateRedacteurSecundaire auteursommige editiesbevestigd
Nin, AnaïsVoorwoordSecundaire auteursommige editiesbevestigd
Saarikoski, PenttiVertalerSecundaire auteursommige editiesbevestigd
Shapiro, KarlIntroductieSecundaire auteursommige editiesbevestigd
Wagenseil, KurtVertalerSecundaire auteursommige editiesbevestigd
Je moet ingelogd zijn om Algemene Kennis te mogen bewerken.
Voor meer hulp zie de helppagina Algemene Kennis .
Gangbare titel
Oorspronkelijke titel
Alternatieve titels
Oorspronkelijk jaar van uitgave
Mensen/Personages
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
Belangrijke plaatsen
Belangrijke gebeurtenissen
Verwante films
Motto
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
These novels will give way, by and by, to diaries or autobiographies—captivating books, if only a man knew how to choose among what he calls his experiences that which is really his experience, and how to record truth truly. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Opdracht
Eerste woorden
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
I am living at the Villa Borghese.
Citaten
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am. Everything that was literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written, thank God. This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, and defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants of God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty
I believe that today more than ever a book should be sought after even if it has only one great page in it: we must search for fragments, splinters, toenails, anything that has ore in it, anything that is capable of resuscitating the body and soul.
Laatste woorden
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
(Klik om weer te geven. Waarschuwing: kan de inhoud verklappen.)
Ontwarringsbericht
Uitgevers redacteuren
Auteur van flaptekst/aanprijzing
Informatie afkomstig uit de Engelse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
Oorspronkelijke taal
Informatie afkomstig uit de Duitse Algemene Kennis. Bewerk om naar jouw taal over te brengen.
Gangbare DDC/MDS
Canonieke LCC

Verwijzingen naar dit werk in externe bronnen.

Wikipedia in het Engels (2)

De auteur beschrijft zijn verblijf in Parijs.

Geen bibliotheekbeschrijvingen gevonden.

Boekbeschrijving
Haiku samenvatting

Actuele discussies

Geen

Populaire omslagen

Snelkoppelingen

Waardering

Gemiddelde: (3.63)
0.5 10
1 65
1.5 10
2 138
2.5 17
3 317
3.5 72
4 415
4.5 39
5 353

Ben jij dit?

Word een LibraryThing Auteur.

 

Over | Contact | LibraryThing.com | Privacy/Voorwaarden | Help/Veelgestelde vragen | Blog | Winkel | APIs | TinyCat | Nagelaten Bibliotheken | Vroege Recensenten | Algemene kennis | 202,661,960 boeken! | Bovenbalk: Altijd zichtbaar