DISCLAIMER: Please bear with me while reading this bitchy, nitpicky review. I’m about 2 weeks post-partem and eloquence is not high on my list of priorities right now. Remembering to shower is taking that space.
I really enjoyed this book. Patti Smith’s writing is gorgeous. She comes across as a poet without trying to hard, which is no easy feat, since I really hate like, 99.9% of all poets and poetry. But that’s not what you’re here to read. This is a book roast, so let’s get down to the bits that made me give some serious side eye. There really wasn’t much, to be honest –the only thing that had me majorly eye-rolling like the book snob that I am was the exorbitant amount of name dropping. Come on, girl. You’re Patti Smith. Is that really necessary? And to harp on the compliments that all of these cult classic stars shower upon you? It’s a bit much. THAT was trying too hard. I also got irritated with the constant descriptions of her outfits and how they were super original and trendsetting. Again –you’re Patti Smith. We get it, man. You don’t need to impress us.
It also annoyed me when she would constantly reference a photo or a piece of artwork that one of the two of them had created, and didn’t include a picture. The pictures she DID include were sprinkled throughout the book with no spatial connection to their place in the narrative. She used the entire book to establish what an artist Robert was, but there were hardly any photos of his work. I guess we were just supposed to take her word for it? I ended up googling madly for most of the book, trying to find the piece she was referencing.
Finally, I get that the book is supposed to be about her relationship with Robert, but the way she just glazed over the years they were estranged seemed really bland and incomplete. The first part of their relationship was covered in this rolling, slow and steady narrative that felt really natural and organic. Then all of a sudden, BAM! Robert and I never talk again for like a hundred years and oh, also I got married and had kids and then Robert gets AIDS and then we’re friends again. The end. It almost read as if she was limited to a certain number of pages, and as she approached the end of her story, she realized she hadn’t left herself enough to do the end of their relationship justice. It left me feeling a little cold.
Overall, though, a great read, whether you’re a fan of Patti Smith or really don’t know anything about her. It’s a nice little glance into the artsy branch of the counter culture of the time, once you get past all the humble bragging.
Cheers,
Taylor
Two Girls, One Book 