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Minor: Addiction, Alcoholism, Chronic illness, Death, Drug abuse, Drug use, Infidelity, Misogyny, Terminal illness, Toxic relationship, Outing, Abandonment, Alcohol, Injury/Injury detail
This memoir pulled me in from the first page with wonderful prose, as empathetic and musical as Patti Smith’s lyrics and poetry, and then kept my attention with a mixture of personal recollections, reminiscence on the nature of art, and an assortment of anecdotes that illustrate the epoch. At times, I felt a little lost when I didn’t immediately recognize a name or somesuch; this is definitely a book aimed at someone who already has an idea of the musical and art scene of the 70s, and while I’m decently familiar with the music parts, sometimes I had to stop reading and pull up Google.
Robert Mapplethorpe feels like the true main character, even when he isn’t directly appearing on the page. I don’t think I really fell under the charm of his personality, no matter how much the narrative tried to pull me under and how much I didn’t mind succumbing. But I really liked the depiction of the bond he and Patti shared, how tightly entwined their lives remained even as their relationship changed from lovers to friends to something family-like in ways that defy strict categorization. I think what they shared is as close as it gets to finding a soulmate.
I really enjoyed how the book was structured, the narrative kind of growing denser and more expansive as it progressed. First we get the daily existence of someone striving to find something *more*, something that will give their life meaning. Then comes the part about the young starving artists that feels both freeing and a tiny bit claustrophobic, that endless juxtaposition of unleashed creativity and struggling in small apartments with limited funds. And then by the time we get close to the Chelsea Hotel times, more and more actors keep entering the stage, and the kaleidoscope of names and events grows and grows, sweeping you away.
When it comes to flaws, I guess I didn’t really like how much the author put Robert on the pedestal. She didn’t exactly shy away from depicting his flaws, but she always hurried to make excuses for him or to downplay the extent of the objectively shitty things he did, like
Graphic: Chronic illness, Death, Drug use, Alcohol
Moderate: Homophobia, Medical content, Grief
Minor: Pregnancy
Graphic: Drug use, Homophobia, Mental illness, Terminal illness, Violence, Alcohol
Moderate: Cancer, Suicide, Transphobia, War
Graphic: Addiction, Chronic illness, Death, Drug abuse, Sexual content, Terminal illness, Grief, Alcohol
Graphic: Grief
Moderate: Cursing, Death, Drug abuse, Drug use, Sexual content, Terminal illness, Toxic relationship, Medical content, Toxic friendship
Minor: Homophobia, Infidelity, Racial slurs, Racism, Suicide, Blood, Death of parent, Pregnancy, Cultural appropriation, Alcohol
Graphic: Drug use, Terminal illness
Moderate: Grief, Medical trauma, Pregnancy, Alcohol
Minor: Suicide
Robert and I had explored the frontier of our work and created space for each other. When I walked on the stages of the world without him I would close my eyes and picture him taking off his leather jacket, entering with me the infinite land of a thousand dances.
This one was tough to rate in my opinion, but in terms of writing and the flowing of it I love it, I felt emersed into their lives and shared stories.
This was crushing to read especially the last parts, but it was so worth it, it was a beautiful relationship and I'm glad I picked this one up.
Graphic: Drug use, Grief, Pregnancy, Alcohol
The ending made me cry, and her poems and the photos included in the book are beautiful!
Moderate: Death, Drug use, Infidelity, Suicide, Pregnancy, Alcohol