When he was not tackling sex and philosophy, Henry Miller traveled. The Colossus of Maroussi is a book of those later times, when he, an "American Savage", entered the world of peace, beauty, and most of all, simplicity he was longing for while living in America. Nothing could prepare him for what he encountered in Greece, not the streets of New York, nor the streets of Paris. Although enamored with France, Miller's passion for Europe goes way further in this book, which at times reads more like L. D. novel than Miller's own. Yet, at the same time he manages to wrap himself in the beauty he encounters, dive in it without holding a breath and resourface a new, more complete being, spellbound by his experience. If only there were more writers like him -- ahh, wishful thinking. Most of all, this book shows Miller in a different light, not limited by his fame for writing about sex (actually, most of his books are not) he explores a new land, unknown to him until then. His ability to take the reader's hand and walk throughout the countryside, observe the people, customs and scenery, is combined with philosophy and his personal views (What else would you expect from Miller?). I have shared this book with many people who did not like Miller and their minds were changed forever. What more can be said? Nothing -- read the book and find out for yourself.