The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas took me far far longer to finish reading than it should have. For only 176 pages, 4 months is not going to keep me on track for completing any kind of book lists in a timely fashion.
And I certainly started out in a fervor. I adore modern art and have a strong fondness for Paris, so to be reading the stories of all of the artists that I love living in Paris in the early 20th century and to really hear how they knew each other, interacted, who bought whose paintings, etc, was just too fabulous for me. I absolutely love the idea of their home/salon at 27 rue de Fleurus being this hub for artists and writers. It was just so brilliant to read about how all of these icons were ushered into becoming well-known, especially knowing their status in the art world now, nearly 80 years after the novel was written. Picasso, Matisse, Cezanne, Braque, Duchamp, Man Ray, Gris, Rousseau, not to mention Hemingway, Ford Madox Ford, T.S Eliot, Ezra Pound, Fitzgerald. These names are institutions now. It also meant that it was super slow going at first too, because I had to look up every single artist and painting that was discussed. So certainly slow going.
But don't be fooled by the title; the autobiography is of Gertrude Stein, not of Alice Toklas. The book is written from the point of view of Alice, but is certainly alllll about Ms. Stein. And it's a clever approach. Because I feel as though, if it had been written in the first person about herself, some things would have made her seem a bit egotistical, but when written from the perspective of an observer, it feels more impartial, so it's easier to assert one's impact on the art world and one's literary prowess when it sounds like it is someone else's observation.
And while I was initially thrilled with reading all about the who's who of early 20th century literati Paris, lemme tell ya, it got old really quick. In a nutshell, the book is 90% name dropping. And while time has exulted some, it has not been kind to others. And while I certainly researched many of the individuals named, had I looked into all of them, I would be reading this book indefinitely. So the initial aspect of the book that I loved became the reason that I couldn't wait to be done with it.
And I don't know if Gertrude Stein's style of writing is necessarily my cup of tea. She has very long sentences often with commas and punctuation intentionally absent, usually requiring re-reading of a sentence to fully understand the intent. In her defense, Stein addresses her own manner of writing and the process behind it. So I can appreciate it a little more when reading the explanation around it, but it still felt unfocused to me. And again, based on her own descriptions of her writing methods, there is intent and so much labor behind each word, but I still had a hard time seeing that. It felt as though there was so much labor behind each word for it to still feel chaotic. And while Stein was a passionate grammatical purist, this didn't seem to lend itself to readability. I was a little disheartened to see that I still have another Gertrude Stein book left on my lists, Three Lives. It's probably going to be a minute before I put that in my queue. And I don't know if it was just the copy of the book that I have or if it was the author's intent, but there are tons of typos in the book. I am assuming that this has been kept consistent with the intended copy of the author, but it's possible that I just got a cheapy copy.
It seems appropriate that I finish this book only days before we're going to Paris. I have never been before, so in spite of my not necessarily being super crazy about this book, it really was perfect timing. We're not staying all that far from 27 rue de Fleurus, so I'm sure we'll need to at least walk by to see it. Also appropriately enough to continue on my Paris kick, I watched Midnight in Paris last night, which may as well be the encapsulation of Gertrude Stein's novel (at least the dynamic of the celebrated artists and writers of the 20s hanging out...not the whole time travelling part...). So all together, I don't know if I could possibly be more excited for this trip.
So when deciding which book to read next, I had already chosen Djuna Barnes' Nightwood. And was surprised to see her name dropped both in The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas and in Midnight in Paris. So I guess it seems good that I'm sticking to the same era. I'm also planning to bring another book with me, but I haven't decided yet: options are Me Before You (my mom and sister just raved about it), When Breath Becomes Air, or We Are Not Ourselves.
Leaving with one last quote from The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas that I rather liked. I hope to have some shake-ups on the horizon.
"You should have one absorbing occupation and as for the other things in life for full enjoyment you should only contemplate results."
235 to go.
