I've downgraded my rating to 4-stars -- that is a personal victory for me - the triumph of understanding over nostalgia... (not always one of my strengths....). At any rate, I see now that Miller in this book fashioned himself (Anais Nin always said he wasn't nearly as much of a cad as he tried to make out) -- as a Futurist hero (-- even though he referred to himself in Nietzschean terms as "the last man").
The problem is..., that by the 1930's, Futurism was already old hat and had been superseded. So a little bit of literary arrested development here, Henry..., eh?
In the 1930's, in other words, with fascism already on the rise -- Miller was still going on about D'Annunzio, Knut Hamsun, Élie Fauer, and Blaise Cendrars...
"Still a great book... uneven perhaps in parts - but full of soul"