Probably my favorite American author. Maybe favorite author of all time. Henry was a gritty, brazen New York City guy who wrote in his own voice and was consequently criticized for it. His works are not for the easily offended but for those who can appreciate REALITY smacking them in the face. He broke rules by writing introspectively (yes, think Proust) and delving deep into the human condition and all is beauty and ugliness in a voice that was vulgar and brutally honest. Get beyond the curses and you will be pleasantly surprised.
"Alone, with a tremendous empty longing and dread. The whole room for my thoughts. Nothing but myself and what I think, what I fear. Could think the most fantastic thoughts, could dance, spit, grimace, curse, wail --nobody would ever know, nobody would ever hear. The thought of absolute privacy is enough to drive me mad. It's like a clean birth. Everything cut away. Separate, naked, alone. Bliss and agony simultaneously. Time on your hands. Each second weighing on you like a mountain. You drown in it. Deserts, seas, lakes, oceans. Time beating away like a meat ax. Nothingness. The world. The me and the not-me. Oomaharumooma. Everything has to have a name. Everything has to be learned, tested, experienced. Faites comme chez vous, cheri."
Tropic of Cancer
p. 286
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