This is a beautifully written memoir of the author's life and relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe beginning with their meeting on a NY street in the '60s and pretty much ending with Mapplethorpe's death from AIDS in 1989. Having only known of Smith through her music and Mapplethorpe through the infamous photo exhibition that caused such an uproar, I was unaware that the two were lovers, friends, and cohorts, as well as supporters of each other's varied artistic endeavors. It was a magical time to live in New York City and this book shows why. Tales of the other denizens of the Chelsea Hotel, Smith's work at Brentano's and Scribner's book stores and her evolution from poet into performer are all described in a lyrical way. I fully understand why it was a National Book Award winner. The disappointment for me was in listening to the audiobook read by the author. Smith's delivery is almost in monotone and heavy with her New Jersey accent. Her incessant use of the word "drawling" for drawing is off-putting along with other mispronunciations that abound in the reading.
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