Patti Smith’s music was mostly not mainstream enough to
appear on my radar, but this memoir garnered a lot of attention and accolades
when it came out. Her rags-to-riches
story is amazing, as she traverses NYC in the 1970s, initially working in
bookstores to pay the rent. As a
struggling artist and poet, alongside artist Robert Mapplethorpe, she namedrops
Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Todd Rundgren and William S. Burroughs, to list a
few. Robert aspires to a higher social
class, but sometimes Patti reaps the rewards of his endeavors. She and Robert are lovers and then roommates
after he acknowledges his homosexuality.
Patti then has other famous lovers, including Allen Lanier of Blue
Oyster Cult and Sam Shepard. As another
reviewer noted, Mapplethorpe does not leap off the page as charismatically as
he should, since his and Patti’s relationship is the thread that ties the
entire book together. When Robert gets
low on funds, he takes to hustling, inspired to a degree by the movie
Midnight Cowboy. Finally, his photography earns him the
attention he deserves, some of which derives from the controversial eroticism
of his work. Patti herself, on the other
hand, has a spirit that drew me in and motivated me to listen to some of her
music. One of my favorite moments is
when she cuts her hair in the style of Keith Richards’, to match her
androgynous looks. In fact, Allen
Ginsberg buys her lunch at an automat, apparently because he thinks she is a
man. Unfortunately, the celebrity
sightings and memorable anecdotes were not enough to carry this book for me.
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