Just Kids

French language

Published July 10, 2012

ISBN:
978-2-07-044626-1
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4 stars (41 reviews)

In this memoir, singer-songwriter Patti Smith shares tales of New York City : the denizens of Max's Kansas City, the Hotel Chelsea, Scribner's, Brentano's and Strand bookstores and her new life in Brooklyn with a young man named Robert Mapplethorpe--the man who changed her life with his love, friendship, and genius.

18 editions

Review of 'Just kids' on 'Goodreads'

3 stars

I enjoyed that this book painted a scene of NY in the late 60s that was similar to Paris of the 20s/30s. It seems you couldn't spit without hitting an artist or a singer. Patti Smith was right in the thick of it and this book reads like a who's who of the time. That's what I liked - the sense of place it conjured up. I also feel like I have a somewhat better understanding of Mapplethorpe's sexuality and his relationship with Smith, though to be fair, I knew little about either before reading this, so anything would've been an improvement. That said, I didn't find this book especially gripping, illuminating or otherwise provocative. It was something of a labor (rather than pleasure) to read. It felt like eating my peas.

Review of 'Just Kids' on 'Goodreads'

3 stars

Interesting account. I really love Mapplethorpe's work but never really knew much about Patti Smith. Parts of the book are wonderful - magical memories of their time as early starving artists and the wonder of the Chelsea. Other parts read like a person reviewing their diary and seeing all they had written was what they wore that day. Smith writes a lot about the clothes she wore and lists of things given to her. As annoying as that is throughout the book, the end is poignant and rich with emotion about the relationship she shared with Mapplethorpe.

Review of 'Just kids' on 'Storygraph'

5 stars

This is a surprisingly coherent book from an acolyte of Arthur Rimbaud. That said, Patti is as lucid as she is vague, dim as she is bright and a little blue star in her own right.

The book starts with Robert Mapplethorpe, her muse in a way, dying. Her loss is quite unfathomable to the reader, especially if their connections are unbeknownst to you. To me, they were.

Patti writes of her growing up, of her parents, her siblings and early loss. And of sticking out, of dancing to Motown songs and discovering The Doors. But before that, discovering Rimbaud, a mind-bomb she'll (hopefully) never recover from.

She finds her way on a trip to New York and can by chance afford the ride, and upon arriving is almost instantly rendered homeless. She avoids her family, destined to find her living in the new city. Destitute? No. She describes the …

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