Save this article to read it later.
Find this story in your accountsSaved for Latersection.
There was nothing to tell me so from her appearance.
Nothing to distinguish her from the other trollops who met each afternoon and evening at the Cafe de lElephant.
It was not difficult to come to terms with her.
We sat in the back of the little tabac called LElephant and talked it over quickly.
She didnt rush things, Germaine.
And it was good, that little pussy of hers!
That Sunday afternoon, with its poisonous breath of spring in the air, everything clicked again.
I encouraged it, in fact.
For love, this time.
And again that big, bushy thing of hers worked its bloom and magic.
It began to have an independent existence for me too.
There was Germaine and there was that rose-bush of hers.
I liked them separately and I liked them together.
I first discovered Henry Miller at 15 or 16, when I read Kate Milletts bookSexual Politics.
There would be the passage, and there would be these outraged words around it, which heightened everything.
I immediately went out to find some Henry Miller to see just how bad he might be.
But when I finally readTropic of Cancer, the context made it very different.
But readingTropic of Cancer, I got the feeling that it wasnt so clearcut.
He was truly obsessed with women, and with these raw forces that keep meeting each other through people.
Sometimes I laughed at the descriptions of the women.
The passages just seemed so much about Miller wanting to feel his importance and his power it seemed ludicrous.
But at the same time, it seemed like the women were just out of their minds with excitement.
This is when I thought, God, that sounds great.
The passage I picked, I dont remember reading it and feeling turned on, exactly.
But this was one I remembered for years and years.
It was very different from some of the other passages.
He seems to really … notloveGermaine, of course.
The term sex-positive had not been invented yet, but I would definitely call it that.
He thinks her pussy is great.
She thinks its great.
She is totally happy with it.
Most of what I remember of Millers writing is incredibly dick-centric.
This is one of the few passages I remember where hes praising someones vagina.
And the portrait of her is just so vivid.
It hasnt just been handed to her.
Reading Miller for myself made me realize that people could have very complicated feelings about sex.
I tend to be drawn to mixed people and mixed feelings.
Talking about writing sex scenes can be more uncomfortable than writing them.
When youre writing, youre alone with yourself, and its very intimate.
Youre not thinking about how other people will see it, or at least I dont.
I just hadnt thought what it would be like to say the words.
Theres a funny anecdote I once read about Henry Miller, by Anais Nin.
It was in one of her diaries.
And he would blush and turn away.
He didnt know what to say.
Writers are more reticent than you would think.
Today, I dont think any man would dare write what Miller wrote, which is unfortunate.
People thought he was disgusting then, as well.
For a while, writing about sex was almost the purview of women.
Women could write more intensely about sex and it would be accepted in a way it wasnt from men.
I think the reason for that is pretty obvious women are less threatening than men.
Writing about sex is kind of like writing about music.
Its a thing that isnt about words, really, and doesnt lend itself to verbal descriptions.
When Im writing sex scenes, I dont ever think about how the scene is going to unfold.
I just put myself there with the people, and they do what they do.
I dont think people ever know why anything is erotic.
I dont think we need to know.
People often know what they like, although if theyre lucky they might be surprised.
But I do think its mysterious.
