Just Kids is not my usual reading fare. But, being a member of two different book clubs, I find myself reading many works outside my favorite genre of horror and suspense. This nonfiction work is a memoir from poet, artist, and rock-singer Pattie Smith and recounts her relationship with photographer/artist Robert Mapplethorpe. There is much to like in the book, but I was also frustrated quite a bit by her writing style and lack of openness. First, as numerous reviews have stated, she is an unabashed name-dropper—almost to the point where the mere frequency of it is cringe worthy. Second, Smith can spend paragraphs talking about what clothes she wore or what foods she ate some forty-odd years ago, but she seems unwilling to disclose the hurt she must have felt when Mapplethorpe began having sexual relationships with men—while the two of them were involved romantically and sexually. She writes this was no big deal, but her reaction seems disingenuous. Finally, Smith hints that Mapplethorpe was conflicted about his sexuality. He was raised Catholic, and the time frame of their relationship was in the late 1960’s – which meant that the climate for gays was still quite hostile. This exploration of Mapplethorpe would have been fascinating (Smith and Mapplethorpe remained trusted friends until his death from the AIDS virus in 1989 – so she knew him very well), but Smith barely goes there. This is most unfortunate because she otherwise portrays this controversial man in a very intimate and human manner.
I indicated many there were spots in the work. First and foremost, Smith’s love and dedication to Mapplethorpe is clear. As he is dying of AIDS, her grief is understated yet emotionally on-target. This section is heartfelt and authentic and does not rely on sappy tear-jerker prose. Smith’s words are brilliantly evocative at this point. There is also a section when she and Mapplethorpe lived in the Chelsea Hotel in New York. That section was fascinating, and she made this odd setting come alive with a diverse group of real-life characters.
I indicated many there were spots in the work. First and foremost, Smith’s love and dedication to Mapplethorpe is clear. As he is dying of AIDS, her grief is understated yet emotionally on-target. This section is heartfelt and authentic and does not rely on sappy tear-jerker prose. Smith’s words are brilliantly evocative at this point. There is also a section when she and Mapplethorpe lived in the Chelsea Hotel in New York. That section was fascinating, and she made this odd setting come alive with a diverse group of real-life characters.
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