By Henry Miller
“A excellent expression of Miller’s ethical standpoint in addition to certainly one of his impressive demonstrations of narrative ability. It offers a superb cinematic view of 2 indomitable egotists in lethal conflict.” ―The Nation
The satan in Henry Miller’s significant Sur paradise is Conrad Moricand: “A buddy of his Paris days, who, having been financed and taken over from Europe as an act of mercy through Mr. Miller, seems as exacting, sponging, evil, crafty and ungrateful a visitor as are available in modern literature. Mr. Miller has constantly been a impressive author of personality. Conrad Moricand is maybe his masterpiece. . . .A satan in Paradise is the paintings of a superb novelist manqué, a novelist who has no stricter experience of shape than the divine writer. . . .Fresh and intoxicating, humorous and relocating. . .” ―The instances Literary Supplement (London)
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Additional info for A Devil in Paradise
And with the breakfast a snatch of Segovia. An emperor couldn’t do better. ), lock the door, and plunk myself in front of the machine. Set to go. My brain afire. But what drawer of my Chinese cabinet mind will I open first? Each one contains a recipe, a prescription, a formula. C. Some still further back. First I must blow the dust away. Particularly the dust of Paris, so fine, so penetrating, so nearly invisible. I must submerge to the root taps—Williamsburg, Canarsie, Greenpoint, Hoboken, the Gowanus Canal, Erie Basin, to playmates now moldering in the grave, to places of enchantment like Glendale, Glen Island, Sayville, Patchogue, to parks and islands and coves now transformed into garbage dumps.
On the contrary, he had always tried to be of help. He liked to believe, and I have no doubt he was sincere, that he harbored no evil thoughts, bore no one any ill will. It is true, for example, that he never spoke ill of the man who was responsible for his comedown in the world. He attributed this misfortune entirely to the fact that he was too trusting. As though it were his own fault and not the fault of the one who had taken advantage of his confidence. Using what little wits I possessed, for I was scarcely more capable than he in practical matters, I finally hit upon the idea of asking my friends to have Moricand do their horoscopes for a modest fee.
Rarely did he break down, in my presence at least. When he did, when tears got the better of him, it was more than I could bear. It left me speechless and impotent. It was a special kind of anguish he experienced, the anguish of a man who is incapable of understanding why he of all men should be singled out for punishment. He led me to believe, always indirectly, that never had he done his fellow-man an injury with intent and deliberation. On the contrary, he had always tried to be of help. He liked to believe, and I have no doubt he was sincere, that he harbored no evil thoughts, bore no one any ill will.