"Just Kids," Smith's memoir recounting her relationship with Mapplethorpe, came out early last year. (As with most good things, I'm a little late to the game on this one.) I'm normally a fairly fast reader, zipping through a book in a matter of days, but I've lingered on this one - I love disappearing into the New York of the Seventies: the hallways of the Chelsea Hotel, Max's Kansas City, the Coney Island boardwalk. I don't want it to end. Some days, a good book feels like a good friend.
Photos by Judy Linn and Norman Seeff, via Interview Magazine.
I also took my sweet sweet time reading this. But I also mistakenly read a lot of it on the subway (not to say that crying and laughing out loud are normal occurrences there). I love reading you blog by the way!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Cordelia! I'm so happy you're enjoying it. And I can relate: much of my reading takes place on the bus - I've laughed, cried, ooh-ed, and aah-ed in public too many times to count!
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