Patti Smith is such an interesting and admirable person, independent, intelligent and very much her own person but the memoir turned into a litany of "people who became someone" in the second section and, as such, dated it. Her life would have been so much more interesting as the center rather than appended to others - at least it felt that way - that I wish she had told her non-Robert Mapplethorpe story rather than constantly revolving about his art/obsession/confusion. Hers is a lot more interesting.
Anybody but her
I found this account narcissistic, self-serving and solipsistic. I too lived through this era, and while I enjoyed the references to the events and people of the 60's and 70's I couldn't wait for this book to end. Her performance was great for insomniacs who want to be lulled to sleep, but it made for an incredibly long listen. I can't imagine how this was awarded the National Book Award. Maybe the committee was impressed by all her references to the great artists and her never ending name dropping of the great performers of this era.
I really wanted to like this book and enjoyed it for awhile, but by the end I was like, OK Robert, die, so that we can turn this thing off.
Sierra Vista, Arizona (Relocated for Retirement) Reading, Audible, Travel, Fishing & Boredom
A different voice. Being from the West it was difficult and even irritating to listen to
the dry, bland Brooklyn accent. This heroine doesn't get angry, happy, sad, thrilled, excited, furious .... the voice never changes. Irritating.
I assume this is someone's life story. The story is too dull not to be someone's life story...
The story is very typical of growing up in the 50's, surviving a full time stint as a hippie, even having a mate "come out". I know, I did it. And, basically that's Part 1.
The voice. There was no excitement, no surprise, no anger, no feeling. She finds out
her life partner (!) is gay and sleeping with men and it's just another day. It would have been really nice to know she was alive and living this life story.
The voice is most irritating, and it made me want to shake the heroine.
Reaction? Dull, bored.
And, this is just Part 1. I will grind through Part 2 simply because I cannot not finish a book, although I know the ending...
Patti Smith tells us the ending in the preface and first chapter.
work as an artist and art restorer. read at least 48 books a year, because I can listen while I work.
Ordinarily, I do not like to comment or review a book unless I found it to be exceptional or something I truly enjoyed. This book had a riveting story, and I like these people as artists, but had to get over Patti Smith's reading of it. She has a way of speaking that is flat and monotonous. That being said, I thought this was worthwhile
Just the other day we watched Patti Smith perform Requiem at her return to Horses show. She ended with a long list of lost heroes. It was Bowie’s 69th Birthday that night. He was not on her list. As I ran through the pre-dawn this morning, a huge eaglish head over Father Hill, Venus winking out brightly as I turned, I gave Bowie that Love planet, and added him silently to her list.
Re-listening to this book quite simply broke my heart again. Just as it built me anew, as any good Bildungsroman will do, it cleaved in me that which is most profound: the art egg that is, Phoenix-like, forever waiting to be laid and broken open, over and over at the behest of what is best in us. The maker smithies herself, the metal gets harder, sharper with each burning. These words, formed in stories and told as pristine history in her masterly truck driver mouthed voice; this is the clarion call I'm so happy to return to, particularly in this time of trenchant mortality in the art-meets-rock world.
Thank you, Patti Smith. As you said of your guitar, this book too, "Is the only weapon you'll ever need."
Not in a million years.
Not in a million years
Choose someone who can modulate their voice and express even a modicum of emotion.
The beginning, the middle and the end.
Get over yourself, Patti Smith. You name-dropped your way into a novel with a story that could have been told in 30 pages.
I couldn't decide whether to buy the book or listen to the audio version. When I saw Patti Smith read her book, herself, I opted for the Audible edition. I'm very glad I did. This is a powerful and inspiring work. Smith puts a lot of emotion into her reading, which would come as no surprise to anyone interested to read the book in the first place. Patti Smith brings the same intensity to her reading and writing as she does to her music and poetry.
Any artist who believes they are held back by family connections, wealth or education, should read this book even if you've never heard of Patti Smith or Robert Mapplethorpe. Not everything they had to do to survive in 1970s New York was pretty, but they did it with style and courage, and they achieved what they planned to achieve. This book is a candid and beautiful memoir.
I thought I knew so much about these two, and this era. It was interesting to bring more clarity to the times they lived in. But the greater gift here is Patti Smiths' clear, poetic telling of this deep intimate, artistic relationship. It's wonderful to hear it in her voice. It's just beautiful.
I'd heard many kudos for this book and am adding mine to the long list. An eloquent, hypnotic and insightful read into a unique relationship between artists who knew their gifts long before they were discovered. A loving tribute by Ms. Smith to her lover, friend and co-conspirator, Mr. Mapplethorpe. Her voice, while calm and somewhat droll, enhances the poetry of her words.
Patti Smith pours out the story of her life with humility, peace and quiet resolve. She starts with the shame and humiliation of getting pregnant in her teens and giving the baby up for adoption in the early 60s. With hardly a dime to her name she moves to New York City where she meets and enters into a loving relationship with the famous photographer, Robert Maplethorpe. Together they supported one another in all their artful endeavors even after he left her for the love of a man. Eventually they moved to the Chelsea Hotel where they associated with well-known poets and authors and artists and musicians of the late 60s and early 70s. Patti's career took off, she married and had two children, and Robert continued his love of photography. Patti took care of him when he contracted AIDS and eventually died. Their love for one another was so extraordinary, so caring for one another, so mutually supportive, so non-judgmental, so void of jealousy and mistrust. I am in awe of Patti's talents as a singer and as a poet and artist, but most of all I admire her humility and honesty. I've always been fascinated with Maplethorpe's work and have a book of some of his photography, mostly of women, and Patti rounds out the line-up of well-known women in the last four photos. She was and is more beautiful than she knows. A few days ago I read where she visited the Occupy Wall Street camp to donate some of her books. While walking among the protesters she came upon an old woman to whom she gave her socks and boots.