Wednesday, July 29, 2020

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Original Title: The Colossus of Maroussi
ISBN: 0811201090 (ISBN13: 9780811201094)
Edition Language: English
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The Colossus of Maroussi Paperback | Pages: 244 pages
Rating: 3.98 | 3293 Users | 278 Reviews

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The Colossus of Maroussi is an impressionist travelogue by Henry Miller, written in 1939 and first published in 1941 by Colt Press of San Francisco. As an impoverished writer in need of rejuvenation, Miller travelled to Greece at the invitation of his friend, the writer Lawrence Durrell. The text is inspired by the events that occurred. The text is ostensibly a portrait of the Greek writer George Katsimbalis, although some critics have opined that is more of a self-portrait of Miller himself.[1] Miller considered it to be his greatest work.

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Title:The Colossus of Maroussi
Author:Henry Miller
Book Format:Paperback
Book Edition:Anniversary Edition
Pages:Pages: 244 pages
Published:January 17th 1975 by New Directions (first published 1941)
Categories:Travel. Nonfiction. Cultural. Greece. Literature. Autobiography. Memoir

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Ratings: 3.98 From 3293 Users | 278 Reviews

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I read every book Miller mentioned in this memoir. Following his excellent taste was a great starting point for me as a young reader. (I read it in the spring of 1974.)

It's the eve of World War II. Dark forces are gathering across Europe, about to tear the continent apart in an unprecedented act of barbarity. Henry Miller travels to Greece, ostensibly to visit a Greek writer but really to reacquaint himself with the humanistic spirit he sees flowing from there--a life-affirming spirit that's the opposite of the impending death everywhere else. Part travelogue, part diatribe, this is a book that's not going to be for everyone. I can certainly understand why

On the Road in Greece. Okay, thats probably an exaggeration, but the sentiment is, I think, accurate. As does Kerouac in On the Road, Miller displays the same quickening to judgment, the same contempt for the bourgeois, the same obsession for the real. Greece to him is real. Unfortunately, the Greece that he sees is anything but. Miller falls in love with a vision of Greece that is as much made of present Greek poverty and past Greek myth. Part lengthy diatribe against modern civilization, part

Wonderful. I'd say a masterpiece. If I ever do go to Greece, I will have this book as my travel companion. Henry Miller gave himself completely over in this homage to Greece. His love for mankind is in every line. Some times it's a tough love...The book closes with the dark ominous threat of WWII coinciding with Miller's return to New York. The timing of the trip really adds to the experience because Miller writes it like it is an urgent testimony to our world before it blows.I urge anyone who

Some critics call "The Colossus of Maroussi"--Henry Miller`s account of his trip to Greece on the eve of World War II--the greatest travel book ever. But, like all great travel books, it's much more than mere depiction of beautiful landscapes, missed connections, bad weather, and surly waiters--though Miller recounts those as well. Rather, the book stands as a compelling paean to the Greek spirit, to liberty, and to life--as well as a barbaric yawp prefiguring the coming cataclysm.The Canadian

Книгата напоително откровение; божествена (дано никога досега да не съм използвала тази дума).Писателят омайник.Хенри Милър идеалист, проповядващ против идеалите.50 звезди!Изкуших се да копирам наготово на английски от интернет, вместо да преписвам до безкрайност от безупречното българско издание.(Стефан Стефанов не е преводач. Той е едно с Хенри Милър.) I would set out in the morning and look for new coves and inlets in which to swim. There was never a soul about. I was like Robinson Crusoe

I'm so disappointed. What a hunk of junk. I don't know what this book is supposed to be, but a travel book, it is not. This is more like some self-centered, old-fashioned guy's philosophical blathering about a trip to Greece he took ages ago -- except it's not even interesting, nor is it funny, and it doesn't make a lick of sense. He goes on and on for paragraphs and paragraphs with no seeming point, and doesn't have anything interesting to say. The best thing I can say about this book is that

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