As often as the word cunt is used, it probably should be called the Tropic of Uterine Cancer. You may find parts of it you like, but the consensus was that the book was dogshit. You could imagine the barriers it broke when published and credit Henry Miller for that, but the lives of the skells it chronicles really was unforgivable. There wasn’t one character in the book that anyone cared a lick about. So we have to guess that this really was just an exercise in writing past the boundaries of 1930s common decency. Early shock jock material. Unless you feel you need to add it to your resume to be somehow enlightened, there is no reason to waste your time. If the book ever comes up, just say you are outraged that it was banned and you’re covered.
To be fair, one Brother started to read Tropic of Capricorn to see if Miller had anything else to offer. He burned the book.