I read this novel by Henry Miller. I had read it when I was 15 or 16, I guess. It does not age particularly well, to put it delicately. I think just about anybody could write about sex better than Henry Miller. It could only be published in the US in 1961 or so, and a decade later it was already being denounced by one of the first works of feminist literary criticism. Well of course. There's something in the rawness of it that I realize must have seemed appealing at one time, if you can ignore all the offensiveness of misogyny and antisemitism.