
Just Kids
by Patti Smith
Patti Smith's memoir of her friendship and love with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe in New York City from 1967 to his death from AIDS in 1989, written as a promise to a dying friend.
Check Price on Amazon (paid link)American · b. 1946
National Book Award for Nonfiction (2010), Commandeur des Arts et des Lettres
Patti Smith is an American punk poet, musician, and author whose memoir Just Kids chronicles her formative years with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe in a portrait of art, poverty, and deep friendship in late-1960s New York.
Patti Smith is one of the foundational figures of American punk rock and a poet with serious literary credentials, but Just Kids, published in 2010, reached audiences well beyond her music following. The memoir begins in 1967 when Smith, 20 and newly arrived in New York with no money and no plan, meets a young Robert Mapplethorpe outside a bookstore. The book chronicles their years together — living in the Chelsea Hotel, scrabbling for artistic footing in the countercultural world of late-1960s and early-1970s Manhattan, and slowly finding their respective paths as artists — until Mapplethorpe’s death from AIDS in 1989.
Smith’s prose is lyrical and precise, drawn from the sensibility of a poet rather than a memoirist interested primarily in event. She renders the material world of that New York — the textures of Chelsea Hotel rooms, specific streets, the faces of specific people — with loving attention, and her portrait of Mapplethorpe is both deeply personal and historically valuable. The book was, in part, a promise kept: she had told Mapplethorpe she would tell their story.
Just Kids is honest about poverty and struggle without self-pity, and tender about its central relationship without sentimentality. The friendship between Smith and Mapplethorpe, which evolved from romance to deep companionate love, is the book’s emotional core, and the grief that runs through the narrative — quietly, until it surfaces fully at the end — gives it lasting force. It is one of the genuinely outstanding American memoirs of the past two decades.
To understand Patti Smith the author, it helps to recall that she arrived at music through poetry, and never left poetry behind. She came to New York in the late 1960s steeped in the work of Rimbaud, Blake, and the Beats, intending to be a poet and visual artist, and her eventual move into rock music was less a change of vocation than an extension of it — an attempt to fuse the incantatory power of verse with the raw energy of rock and roll. Her landmark 1975 album Horses is widely regarded as one of the most influential records of its era, a foundational work of punk that opened the form to literary ambition, female authority, and improvisatory wildness, and it established her as a singular artistic presence. This grounding in poetry is precisely what gives her prose its distinctive texture. When she turned to memoir decades later, she brought the compression, the precise imagery, and the heightened attention of a poet, which is why books like Just Kids read so differently from conventional celebrity reminiscence. Her writing is the work of an artist for whom language has always been the primary medium, music simply one of its vehicles.
If Just Kids is a memoir of youth, ambition, and a great friendship, M Train (2015) is its meditative counterpart, a more diffuse and dreamlike book that confirmed Smith as a major prose writer rather than a musician who had written one good memoir. Structured loosely around cafés, journeys, and the objects and rituals of a solitary creative life, M Train drifts through grief, memory, literature, and the texture of ordinary days with a melancholy beauty entirely its own. It is a book about loss — of her husband, the musician Fred “Sonic” Smith, and of others close to her — and about the consolations of art, coffee, detective shows, and the pilgrimage to writers’ graves. Where Just Kids has a clear narrative arc, M Train is willfully formless, trusting the reader to follow the movements of a contemplative mind. Together with later volumes such as Year of the Monkey and Devotion, it reveals the full range of her literary sensibility: elegiac, allusive, attentive to the small sacred details of a life devoted to making things. These books have secured her reputation as one of the more distinctive memoirists and essayists of her time.
Few figures have sustained the kind of multi-decade, multi-disciplinary creative authority that Patti Smith commands, and her standing as an icon rests on far more than nostalgia for the punk era. She remains an active musician, poet, photographer, and author, and her National Book Award for Just Kids marked formal recognition of a literary gift long evident in her songwriting. What draws successive generations to her is a quality of uncompromising artistic seriousness combined with warmth and accessibility — a sense that she has lived in genuine devotion to art, friendship, and memory, and that her work offers a model of how to do so. Her influence on women in rock music is foundational, and her later emergence as a beloved literary figure has introduced her to readers who know nothing of her records. She has become, in a sense, a keeper of cultural memory, eulogising departed friends and fellow artists and insisting on the value of the bohemian, art-centred life she has always led. Across music and literature alike, Patti Smith endures as a rare embodiment of the artist’s vocation pursued without compromise across an entire lifetime.
For readers approaching her as an author rather than a musician, the clear starting point is Just Kids, the National Book Award–winning memoir of her youth with Robert Mapplethorpe, which is both her most acclaimed prose work and her most accessible — a moving, beautifully written portrait of art, friendship, and a vanished New York. Those who love it should continue to M Train, its more meditative and dreamlike companion, which confirms her gifts as a prose stylist and deepens the elegiac themes of memory and loss. The more adventurous can explore Year of the Monkey and Devotion, slimmer and more experimental works that reveal further facets of her sensibility. Readers curious about the artist behind the books should also experience her landmark album Horses, where her fusion of poetry and rock first took form. Whichever the entry point, Patti Smith offers the same rare gift: the company of an artist who has lived in complete devotion to creation, memory, and the friends and ideals that shaped her.

by Patti Smith
Patti Smith's memoir of her friendship and love with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe in New York City from 1967 to his death from AIDS in 1989, written as a promise to a dying friend.
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