I got lucky and a week after enquiring after it found it in the bookstore.
Similar to the first, more ruins, explorations into caves, cenotes, underground temples, references to the history of the area - from Bernal Diaz to Diego López de Cogolludo, rumors of Jean LaFitte the Pirate, of good reputation and reported upon by fishermen and locals who knew him, tales of buried treasure on the islands around Cozumel, what in this is there not to enjoy?
And the illustrations, by the accompanying travel artist F. Catherwood - perpetually in a fever yet his pictures perfectly capture the ambiance of the ruined and decaying cities.
Pastoral prints, romantic ruins overgrown with trees, pyramids, fantastic statuary, view a few of his prints by following the link above.
Exploring, the caution with which the natives regard most of the ruins and underground spaces, possibly as a consequence of bad air or gas, they are forever trying to give context to the scale of ceremonial architecture that seem grotesquely out of place with the current circumstance of the population, the customs of the current people described through the lens of a rather white filter; our author regarding them largely as the piteous remnants of Spanish colonization & brutality - which, while true doesn't realize that the real depopulation of the area took place via smallpox and other introduced diseases.
Descriptions of the vast networks of cisterns, wells, cenotes, most filled in with rubbish, but to clear a pond is to discover that it was once actually a purpose built reservoir, built at huge scales to save up the rains for the dry seasons (Climate change - even a brief period of a few years - is credited by many current archeologists as responsible for the collapse of the Mayan Empire), and always there is always the realization that they are in the presence of vanished civilization, the architecture, art, agriculture, speaks of a vast, lost empire, possessed of a high degree of sophistication.
Noteworthy is when the author discovers the "Builders Mark" on the great buildings, a red handprint, symbol (presumably) of the architect that designed the place, or chief builder, these marks still visible to Stephens even hundreds of years since their ruin, and his speculations as to it's universality - seen on horses, Tee-Pees of tribes across North America, on rock walls in Australia and in the caves of France - the hand - red hand especially - is the symbol of creation, the proof of action, an idea brought to fruition in the material world.
And there are the perpetual descriptions of the biting insects, the garrapatas (ticks) that would blacken the incautious explorer and his horse, the mosquitos and biting ants, fleas and sand fleas; all in hordes, at scales a thousand times what would have driven me mad. While (to me at least, oddly enough), there are no mentions of giant or venomous snakes, tarantulas, or jaguars, they are instead besieged constantly by the nuisance of invisible enemies that keep them feverish their entire expedition.
Finished, and there are a few other books by him, exploring in other regions, so I will have to keep my eyes peeled.
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Finally finished, and an introduction to a whole new set of artists/authors I've never read (or knew of) and now must keep my eye peeled for...
- Ephraim Doner (Artist, friend of H. Miller)
- Bezalel Schatz (painter, sculptor, friend of H. Miller)
- Moise Kisling (French Painter)
- Charles-Albert Cingria (Author)
- Sir Godfrey Higgins (author)
- Oscar Vladislav De L. Milosz (Author, Milasius)
- Restif de la Bretonne (author, rival of De Sade, foot-fetishist)
- Lawrence Lipton (Journalist, author "The Holy Barbarians")
- Balzac (Author, "Seraphita")
- Jaime de Angulo - (Neighbor, novelist, ethnomusicologist, outsized reputation-major character of the era)
- Jakob Wassermann - "The Maurizius Case"
Many of the above were acquainted with Henry Miller, through correspondence, travel, or neighbors, for a time, at Big Sur.
It makes me curious as to what other books/artists he'd recommend, and - as luck would have it there is in fact a list:
The final chapter - some 100 odd pages of the book, deal with a character that comes to stay with Miller in Big Sur. His name is Conrad Moricund, a Swiss-French Astrologer who Anais Nin passed off on Miller when he proved to be too troublesome. Now, Miller has some issues with this guest over the three month visit, and over the course of 100 pages paints the most damnable picture of him - by turns laughable, outrageous, all things, foolish, sage, impotent, pornographer... - ...
And I'm laughing and laughing because I know him, or enough of his type, and laughing, laughing painfully because - in certain degrees he is as well me. It's like being shown a grotesque mirror of both everyone you know, but yourself included. It's funny, but it makes me aware - well, I was always aware, reminds perhaps is a better way of putting it, me of my own failings.
Anyways, finally finished that one up with enough notes to inform my reading for a year or two, should I so choose...
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Of all the Henry Miller Novels I'm enjoying this the most. Because it's him on writing, living, in Big Sur California, at the height of the 1950's counterculture.
A lot less raucous sex (so far) and a lot more of the living the values I can relate to.
It reminds me of Nelson, as it was perhaps 10, 20 years ago. It is somewhat the same now, but real estate, rent, the "buying-in" has gotten exorbitant, ridiculous, and the titled hippies, now millionaires, barons, baronesses, counts, countesses, they've been corrupted, eccentricity when poor becomes despotism when they think they're rich.
So, Big Sur, I mean, everyone went there - Steinbeck, Pynchon, Man Ray, Dylan Thomas, Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, William Burroughs, Ginsberg, everyone went for a while, their time in the wilderness.
Few stayed, I'm not sure that Miller did for long beyond the scope of this book (I haven't finished it yet), but - it seems a place I should definitely visit.
Anyways, This, more autobiographical than his other books, more in the tradition of a writer on writing - and as such he comes off much better than he does say in "Tropic of Cancer" & "Tropic of Capricorn". Those - autobiographical to an extent, but also largely novels. This is him settled down, writing about more human relationships with wives and neighbors. And he has some pretty good neighbors.
It is a treat when a good book refers you to another good book you should read, that you haven't yet, and you make a note - the convenience of the internet is that whatever I don't know I can find out. And so note after note...
Like: Henry Miller's Watercolors (I didn't know he painted....), Artist Abe Rattner (neighbor), Ecce Homo by George Grosz, (funny, in that a painting by that name was infamously restored a few years ago, to art-lovers dismay and internet trolls delight...you know the painting...)
And for Authors: Arabia Deserta - Charles Montagu Doughty, Lillian Bos Ross, Robinson Jeffers, Rimbaud, "The House of Certain Death" by Albert Cossery, some of whom were Miller's neighbors, others people he knew through correspondence, and those he merely read and admired.
And - by this point, early 50's, he's well admired throughout the world. He wants - as always, only for cash, everyone knows his name but for some reason (the war) his royalties from France are slow to arrive. But he talks of his fame, people showing up unannounced to look at his pictures, see the writer, the sacks of mail, the hippies and drop outs and drop ins that frequent the Big Sur area, so, in almost every way a very relatable book...
Still another half to go, a little thicker than I'm used to reading, but enjoyable every inch of the way...
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A selection of his real life essays, on everything from his father's murder, to making "Fight Club" to interviewing Marilyn Manson.
All in his voice.
Actually, I think I enjoyed this more than his fiction...
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