Hand-corrected, unsigned typed draft of a letter by Henry Miller, three pages, 8.5 x 11, December 26, 1962. Draft of a letter to "the U.S. Supreme Court," extensively hand-corrected in the margins by Henry Miller. The letter provides extensive background detail on Miller's life and literary influences, the writing of Tropic of Cancer, and its reception by the global public. Originally published in France in 1934, Tropic of Cancer was banned from being imported by the US Customs Service on the grounds that it was obscene. Its publication in the United States by the Grove Press in 1961 led to dozens of obscenity lawsuits brought against booksellers. When the subject ultimately rose to the US Supreme Court, in Grove Press, Inc. v. Gerstein, the Court overruled state court findings that Tropic of Cancer was obscene.
In part, with Miller's handwritten amendments in brackets: "Tropic of Cancer was begun when I was in my fortieth year (in Paris, not Brooklyn). I had already been married twice and had a child. I had begun writing almost ten years before with no success whatsoever. I left New York, my birthplace, in the early part of 1930, determined to begin life anew. I had spent almost a whole year traveling about in Europe in 1928, [due to a freak of fortune], with my then wife. The impressions received during this trip abroad convinced me that, if I were to continue my career as a writer, Europe offered greater opportunities for the pursuance of such a career than America. I had never fitted in to the American scheme of things. From the time I left High School I must have had a hundred different jobs. I quit the last one—employment manager of the messenger department in the Western Union Telegraph Co.—resolved never to take another job but to live or die as a writer. That was in September 1924; Tropic of Cancer was published, in Paris, in September 1934. During this ten year period I had written three books and any number of short stories and articles. To the best of my knowledge only two or three of the [latter] were ever published in magazines. [You can] imagine [my state of] desperat[ion] when I made the decision to try my luck abroad.
I had imagined on leaving America that I was going to Spain, but I never got farther than Paris. I arrived there in the Spring of 1930, knowing nothing of the French language. While writing the Tropic of Cancer I lived by my wits' the difficulties which I had experienced from 1924 to 1930 in New York were magnified considerably [on arriving] in Paris. Yet, I must confess, it was more pleasant and instructive starving in Paris than in my home town. Thanks to the aid and encouragement of the friends I made—largely expatriates like myself—I managed to survive and finish the book. By a miracle I found there in Paris the one man in all the world who dared to publish [such a] book: Jack Kahane of the Obelisk Press. Between the time he accepted the book and its publication I rewrote the book three times.
I have often referred to this book as an ice-breaker. In writing it I found my own voice, found liberation as a writer. Much of this was due to the life I had led—not only the struggles and hardships but the acquaintance with French writers and French literature, and with the French way of life. Unwittingly I found myself living the kind of life—bohemian—which so many celebrated writers and artists [before me] had been obliged to live for one reason or another. My book [might be regarded as a] celebration of that kind of life, [I suppose]…
In the U.C.L.A. library are thousands of letters from readers of the book all over the world. The burden of these missives, very many, I might say, is that the reading of it brought about a liberation, [inspired] hope [and courage], [the courage to live one's own life come what may]. [It had this effect,] I presume, because it was a naked, vivid account of one man's struggles with almost insuperable odds, because it was an honest and revelatory account of this man's life, sparing nothing. Many who wrote me confessed that it was the first time in all their reading experience that they had seen the whole man portrayed. They felt that I had restored to literature some new kind of integrity…
Certainly this book has provoked attention and discussion wherever it has been published. In every country there are those who believe that the author has gone too far, that certain things may be said but not written, and so on…When I was asked to appear some years ago before the Judge d'Instruction in Paris, in connection with the book Sexus, I was asked finally if I believed in complete freedom of expression. And, I answered Yes. I cannot imagine a writer sitting down and saying to himself—'I think I will permit myself to say this but not that'…A serious, dedicated writer is, in my opinion, a man who stands behind every word he puts down and who does not impose restrictions on himself for fear of incurring public disfavor. He writes because he has the urge, because he can do no other…In my youth my idols, [among American authors], were such as Thoreau, Emerson, Walt Whitman; they still are, I should add. I [regard] them [as] revolutionary spirits, men who were against the trend of the times. Perhaps I was drawn to such writers because I am myself a born rebel.
Today, my birthday, I am seventy-one years old—and still a rebel. If the great free spirits of the world had been obliged to write down to the level of the 'normal community standard,' would we have [today the] works which [made them famous?] Why should any thinker, in any field, be required to make his thoughts palatable and acceptable to the ordinary individual, I ask? As a citizen of the country which boasts of the unique freedom permitted its citizens it seems to me that this question is not out of place." In fine condition, with uniform toning.
