The Colossus of Maroussi
By Henry Miller
This book—an account of Miller's time in Greece just before World War II—saved me when I was working in a place I didn't care for and I couldn't leave. I was stuck indoors for two and a half months, but when I got hold of this, I suddenly got to leave. I went on a trip, found myself walking every step with Miller. What I appreciated most about it was his descriptions of meeting people and traveling with them for a short period of time; I'd had that experience in Europe when I was 18. I also loved the physicality of his writing. He conjures the primitiveness of his exchanges with the Greeks. It was then that he realized we don't have to present ourselves as something we're trying to be; we can be as we are, and we'll find a connection with others so long as we don't force it.