Book Reviews

I figured as I related the stories of my adventure, I should also include some words on the books that illuminate my nights.

First book: "A moveable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway. This was a Strackany recommendations and white it was appropriate for my situation, I was disappointed. The novel differs from other Hemingway I've read because it's autobiographical. The book is written in Ernest's classic simple prose that goes down easy and is light on the stomach. He relates his experiences of being a young writer in Paris. That much talked to me- trying to find time to write- managing his personal experiences while exercising his memory and writing of his past life. I never anticipated the fervor this online journal would create and I'm performing a balancing act of living and logging (or, I should say, blogging). I want to keep all of you with fodder for our community forum. The book chronicled one of the more joyous, carefree periods of Hemingway's life and perhaps that's why I found it less authentic than his other works- certainly less structured.

Book 2: "Villa Incognito" by Tom Robbins
I'm running out of TRob novels and I had planned on saving this one but when friends told me it was set in Asia- I felt the time was right. The story focuses on GIs during the Vietnam War who crash in Thailand and find it more enchanting than America. They hide there and create a commune, a Villa. As always with TRob, it's not so much what he writes about but how he writes it. The book served as an inspiration to write but ended much too soon; abandoning what appeared to be an ambitious story in it's initial form. I know he's getting old and I figured he decided he's proven his point, (arts should be worshipped, creativity, individuality and magic should be perpetually sought), and decided to end the novel prematurely and retire to the beach. If so, I hope the beach babes keep you company TRob, you deserve it.

Book 3: Sexus; The Rosy crucifixion by Henry Miller
If I wasn't aware that this is only volume 1 of 3, I'd be severely depressed that I'm only 100 pages from the finish. This is my fourth Henry Miller novel and definitely the best- probably because it's the longest. Like Mr. Robbins, Henry Miller is a certified genius and I could care less what he writes about, just keep writing, never stop the legendary type-writer. I urge my fellow fans of the English language to start this one and learn, as I am, why so many countries are trying to make their citizens fluent in our native language. That being said, any who are squeamish in the slightest- stay far away. As the title indicates, this book, like Henry Miller's desires is unusually seedy and provocative. His sexual escapades ignite the book and, like everything else he writes about, are in telescopic, graphic detail. Beware.