The Question
Eternal
"My interest is in the ideals of free inquiry, an open society and, if you will, my own moral being. As a writer, how do I stand aside from the issues that I see corrupting public discourse, and thus the lives of my friends and neighbors? As a man, how do I stand aside from them? It's pointless to talk about motive. You can never get to the bottom of it.
Almost thirty years ago, the night I got the word that a bookseller on Hollywood Boulevard was going to be arrested and prosecuted for selling Miller's Tropic, my first reaction was to take the book out of my store window. When I went to the window to take it out, something caused me to pause. I already had a couple of the books in my hands. There was something about what I was doing that I didn't like. I wasn't sure what it was.
The next morning I took a walk along Hollywood Boulevard and looked over the display windows in the other book shops. Tropic wasn't in any of their windows any longer. That was good enough for me. I went back to my own shop and climbed into the display window but I couldn't bring myself to take out the books. Later that morning I tried it again but I couldn't make myself do it. That afternoon I was arrested by a couple of L.A.'s finest in plain clothes and the stage was set for the longest civil trial to have taken place in Los Angeles up to that time.
It wasn't First Amendment idealism that made it impossible for me to remove Miller's book from my window. It wasn't professionalism or dedication to the book industry. It was shame. It made me feel ashamed to think of removing a book from my displays that I respected and that I had gotten so much pleasure and encouragement from. I had read Miller at a particularly tumultuous time in my life—there was a ruined marriage and a few other matters—and Tropic had been a wonderfully liberating experience for me, and I loved Henry Miller for having written it. It was the thought of betraying that love, I suppose, by denying it publicly if I should remove Tropic from my window, that made me feel the shame.
I have never thought of it just this way before, but when the State put me to the test to declare myself publicly, I chose my heart's desire hands down and told the State to shove it along. I feel something similar for revisionist scholarship. While I have no love for the work, to not stand up for it now that I know what it is would make me feel ashamed. That's why I can't "just drop the subject." Hostility is easy to face when the alternative is shame. "
--Bradley Smith
Almost thirty years ago, the night I got the word that a bookseller on Hollywood Boulevard was going to be arrested and prosecuted for selling Miller's Tropic, my first reaction was to take the book out of my store window. When I went to the window to take it out, something caused me to pause. I already had a couple of the books in my hands. There was something about what I was doing that I didn't like. I wasn't sure what it was.
The next morning I took a walk along Hollywood Boulevard and looked over the display windows in the other book shops. Tropic wasn't in any of their windows any longer. That was good enough for me. I went back to my own shop and climbed into the display window but I couldn't bring myself to take out the books. Later that morning I tried it again but I couldn't make myself do it. That afternoon I was arrested by a couple of L.A.'s finest in plain clothes and the stage was set for the longest civil trial to have taken place in Los Angeles up to that time.
It wasn't First Amendment idealism that made it impossible for me to remove Miller's book from my window. It wasn't professionalism or dedication to the book industry. It was shame. It made me feel ashamed to think of removing a book from my displays that I respected and that I had gotten so much pleasure and encouragement from. I had read Miller at a particularly tumultuous time in my life—there was a ruined marriage and a few other matters—and Tropic had been a wonderfully liberating experience for me, and I loved Henry Miller for having written it. It was the thought of betraying that love, I suppose, by denying it publicly if I should remove Tropic from my window, that made me feel the shame.
I have never thought of it just this way before, but when the State put me to the test to declare myself publicly, I chose my heart's desire hands down and told the State to shove it along. I feel something similar for revisionist scholarship. While I have no love for the work, to not stand up for it now that I know what it is would make me feel ashamed. That's why I can't "just drop the subject." Hostility is easy to face when the alternative is shame. "
--Bradley Smith
