Not Afraid To Say It

When asked why he decided to become a writer (during his third interview with Oprah Winfrey), author James Frey said it was reading Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. He said it “changed his life.”

Changed his life? That’s a huge statement. I’d never read it, never really felt compelled to. Now, however, I was quite interested. If a novel has that kind of power, count me in.

Early on, Miller refers to a woman not as a woman, but as a “cunt.” I winced, but read on. After all, it’s Henry Miller. It changed someone’s life! It’s revered as a classic and heralded as a triumph of free speech. Surely I was being too sensitive. Maybe I needed to grow up, even though I was a married woman in my forties, a mother of two and had come upon this word before.

The references continued, repeatedly. “Cunt” was used interchangeably with “woman” or instead of a woman’s name.

My mind kept drifting off the page, away from the story and turning towards Miller. Was he doing it for attention? Was it a provocative device designed to ignite controversy? A savvy marketing ploy? Or was he simply a misogynistic asshole?

Disturbing as it was, I pressed on. And it wasn’t just the word “cunt” that was turning me off (although it didn’t help much).

About a third of the way through, I took the book - this famous, life-altering piece of “literature” - and threw it in the trash.

I’ve always passed books along to a fellow reader or donated them. The ones I’ve loved have a permanent place among my library. To me, good or bad, books commanded respect.

Then, for the first time ever, Tropic of Cancer provoked me to put one in the garbage, right where I think it belonged. So, in a way, I guess it changed my life, too.