Henry Miller is quite the legend in Paris—
Tropic of Cancer was published here in 1934, and deemed obscene by some in the U.S. when it was published there in 1961. Pennsylvania Supreme Court Justice Michael Musmann called the book “an open sewer” but Samuel Beckett called it “a momentous event in the history of modern writing.” (I can’t weigh in on this, because I’ve been too busy reading books about missing hamsters and science-fair volcanoes.) Anyway, I went with Mary Duncan, author of
Henry Miller Is Under My Bed, to see an exhibition of Miller’s lithographs and paintings at Dorothy’s Gallery (27 rue Keller in the 11th near Bastille). We went to have a drink afterwards, because, much like “brunch,” “happy hour” is now à la mode in Paris. I had a five-euro Bloody Mary into which I dumped too much celery salt because they brought me an arsenal of condiments and I got a little crazy with it.