Just Kids

A few weeks ago, I finished the novel Just Kids by Patti Smith.

Though it may seem a little late to reflect on the book, I can assure you I did not wait until now to do so.

I've spent a lot of time these past few weeks thinking about it, but I feel as though I needed some time to process it.

Just Kids reflects upon the intimate and innocent relationship between author Patti Smith and photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, ending before each reached stardom.  Long before Smith was inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame, and Mapplethorpe produced his most shocking and memorable work - a critical move on Smith's part.

The novel creates a sort of fairytale, detailing the pairs experiences maneuvering in and out of New York's bohemian scene.  Smith describes her relationship with Janis Joplin and Grace Slick, and her brief but important encounter with Jimmy Hendrix.  The novel also details Mapplethorpe's relationship with Andy Warhol, someone Smith deeply mistrusted.

However, Smith is quick to remind us why she is deserving of writing such a fairytale - as she describes Mapplethorpe's AIDS diagnosis in 1986, and his eventual death in 1989.

 " Every fear I had once harbored seemed to materialize with the suddenness of a bright sail bursting into flames.  My youthful premonition of Robert crumbling into dust returned with pitiless clarity.  I saw his impatience to achieve recognition in another light, as if he had the predisposed lifeline of a young pharaoh."

One of my favorite moments in the book describes a time in which a touristy couple in Washington Square Park spotted both Smith and Mapplethorpe.  Though both Smith and Mapplethorpe were completely unknown, the couple began to argue as to whether or not they deserved a snapshot.  The wife believed they looked like artists.  However, her husband disagreed, snidely stating "They're just kids."