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Editorial Review Product Description
Stein's most famous work; one of the richest and most irreverent biographies ever written. ... Read more Customer Reviews (22) 
The Architect and Architecture of the Paris Salon Community
By now everyone knows that Gertrude Stein and not her partner, Alice B. Toklas, wrote The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, but knowing that in no way diminishes the pleasure or trust to be had in this memoir of the artistic community in Paris, 1903 - 1933. As the host of the most sought after salon in that time, Stein knew everyone, which makes this an important historical record but more importantly, she had a hand in orchestrating the early 20th century modernist movement.It is fascinating to see it unfold, to watch Picasso especially push himself from his Harlequin period into Cubism.Likewise, this book stands as an artifact of modernism, twisting the narrative perspective and how information is revealed, experimenting with locution to push it more toward the rhythms of speech and meaning. It also offers a close-up look at how and why Stein formed her own writing, beginning with Three Lives.
That description might make this sound formidable, but it in fact is a warm and lively narrative, and sparkles with the author's wit and fondness for jokes.It is ridden with ego, but in that day, ego, however annoying at times, was harnessed to innovation and vision and propelled change.Nearly every page is a who's who. Artists dominate the pre-War years, with the American writers largely arriving in the 1920s.There is contact with Bloomsbury figures (though Stein is silent on the subject of Virginia Woolf). Stein acknowledges occasional feuds or fallings off but does not explain them or express emotion over them. The War years are interesting and less documented than the salon history: Stein and Toklas threw themselves into the relief effort and often came close to the action. Not a lot is revealed about Alice; as Stein says, she mostly sat with the wives of the geniuses while Stein herself talked with the geniuses.
This stands on its own as an immensely readable first hand account of a fabled place and time, and certainly Stein is the epicenter of it, but it does not hurt to overlay her account with others' versions.Hemingway's A Moveable Feast is one, Morley Callaghan's That Summer in Paris, and Sylvia Beach's Shakespeare and Company are three good places to begin.
A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose
Okay, Gertrude so there was no there, there in Oakland. (I agree, having lived there for a period at a much later time-San Francisco, however, is a different matter). So, by hook or crook, Miss Gertrude Stein gets herself (along with her older brother) by a circuitous route to turn of the century Paris (turn of the 20th century that is) and becomes not only an international literary and cultural figure in her own right but a veritable magnet for every "advanced' bourgeois cultural tendency in the then known Western civilized world. Starting with the nouveau Paris anti-academy art world as the likes of Picasso, Braque and Matisse and their schools take it by a storm on through to the sparse World War I years when the flower of European culture was almost destroyed to a re-emergence in the aftermath of that war with "lost generation" types like Hemingway and Fitzgerald we get a bird's eye view of important trends in modern cultural history during the first third of the 20th century. And of Stein's own struggle to get the kind of literary recognition she craved and desired.
What we do not get is anything that, even with the looser standard for such endeavors in the beginning of the 21st century, that we recognize as autobiography either of the ostensible subject of the book, Stein's long time companion (to use a quaint term of the time for two women living together) Alice B. Toklas or Ms. Stein herself. Nor as we suppose to. What we are treated to is a `modern' writing sensibility trying to free up the language (and grammatical constrains) from their 19th century moorings. More conventionally we are given a travelogue, gossip column, some helpful hints and some very witty writing that gives tidbits of what Ms. Stein thought of literature, her place in it and the place of others in her literary pantheon.
In some sense this book, while quite readable even today, is not for the faint-hearted, or those who are not modern Western literature majors or readers of something like "The New York Review Of Books". Fortunately I am a devoted reader of that magazine and therefore the seemingly hundreds of literary figures that Stein `name drops' along the way I had at least passing familiarity with. Some of the many art figures that passed through I was less sure of. What is clear is that Ms. Stein's `mobile salon' (for lack of better words to trace this pair's movements) and her literary achievement here is an echo from a bygone era. Nobody today, as least in the circles I run in or want to run in, could stand up to the `precious' visits by English and other celebrities that dropped in Stein's residences. Or the standard variations on the European grand tour by American college students or young marrieds that made a stop obligatory. Or the stifling aimlessness and routinism of many the various denizens of the Paris of the day, famous or not. But in a world that currently suffers from serious disconnects with its cultural past it is interesting to read about those who had time to "do' the literary scene. But, mainly, get this book for some very clever writing by Ms. Stein.
There is art and then there is official art...
I do have a confession to make regarding Gertrude Stein.You may not know this but the woman is a genius.Why you may ask?Because she tells us this over and over and over again in the book.I do have to admit that at first I had to suppress the urge to shred this book/autobiography/memoir to shreds.I grew immenselyjaded reading the raw prose with not a hint of of emotion throughout.
Thankfully, I eventually saw the light.It finally clicked.
Gertrude Stein was a woman in the time of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso, Matisse, Ezra Pound and T.S.Eliot.Quite simply she needed to stand out as a literary figure.Historians would later call this artistic time period the Roarin' Twenties.Stein needed a way to disconnect with other prominent figures and still remain in the literary circle.She did this by well executing this book.
Though seemingly told through the perspective of her partner Alice B. Toklas, truly we are hearing Stein's. Her memories of meeting fascinating artists and writers in Paris are mind boggling.She adores the Parisian culture but also loves to be an American.Stein is very clever with how she formulates sentences in this book.She remarks on more than one occasion her obsession with the English language.Specifically the use of sounds.She begins to - paint - a novel with her words.Like the artist Picasso, who she is most fascinated with, her novel begins to paint a sort of cubist realism.There is no fluff here.And despite the very limited way she describes characters we eventually begin to see a full picture of them through Toklas/Stein's written words.Her words in way merge words, ideas, sounds, and create art.
We also see how certain artists inspire other artists.Picasso and Matisse were inspired by African art but they made in into their own by what they created.Picasso, upon seeing a camouflaged cannon, remarked to Stein that THEY created this.Artists created this perception of hiding something within plain sight.
Stein discusses nationalism constantly.She remarks on many occasions that Spaniards and Americans can understand one another because they can "realize abstraction."The americans do this with machinery and literature, and the spaniards with the ritualistic bullfighting and bloodshed.In that way, both are also abstract and cruel.She also hashes it out with germans, parisians, italians, polish, etc.She categorizes people and their personality traits by their national identity.
I really enjoyed that everyone came to her villa, that she shared with Tolkas, and asked for her advice on their literary work.She inspired much reverence by her companions and peers.
This by far is one of her more readable and enjoyable books.My advice is to go in with an open mind and truly appreciate her genius for what it is.I came in with stubborn intentions and almost missed out on a fantastic work of art.
A Charming Memoir
This is a lively read. It's also an interesting artifact from an artist who, from her perch atop the turmoil of World War I Paris, managed to craft a work that was modern in style, yet classically human in expression. Here she stood on the cusp of 19th and 20th century literature: T. S. Eliot's The Wasteland this is not, nor is it Hemingway's musings on the Lost Generation or Fitzgerald's cold, vacuous and material world. It's not cubist or surrealist, either, despite the influences evident elsewhere in her work. Instead, this is Gertrude Stein unplugged: witty, hip, self-deprecating, self-aggrandizing, opinionated and sharp, and we love her for it. It's a book about hanging out with friends in Paris, and that's about it, thank you. It has a whimsical style reminiscent of Seinfeld, but with the real-life characters of Picasso, Hemingway, doughboys and lovers wandering through the set, it also carries literary weight and impact.
In a sense, this is a book about nothing, but it's delivered with such intelligence and energy, one might swear Gertrude Stein is leading the reader through her teeming streets of early 20th century Paris on the way to catching a new art sensation. Stein has a remarkable feel for these streets, too: their intimate moods and pulses.
The autobiography, actually not an autobiography at all (but we get the joke), is also a parody of her partner Alice B. Toklas, who bears the brunt of affectionate barbs when not showering the author with zingers and unflattering observations of her own. This technique of imitation is uncommon in American literature--it's more common in Russian and Spanish classics, for example--but Stein carries it off with requisite naturalness and wit.
Despite her playfulness, Stein refrains from the avant-garde in this book. There's little "Steinese" experimentation or inventiveness here. The words flow from her pen and typewriter like conversation, unflappably so, and this choice of language is shrewd, as the work gives a you-were-there quality; like a photo album, this book is a testament to her visual and "painted" frame of reference. Those who want to see her more edgy experiments in syntax and diction should check out Selected Writings of Gertrude Stein, an edition that includes this autobiography and an interesting, if oddly unflattering at times, essay by F. W. Dupee and helpful notes from editor Carl van Vechten.
At times, The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas feels shallow, I must say. While far from cold and plenty humorous, the writing conveys the aura of a modern city on the go, where relationships are casual, the stakes are low and people move in and out of other peoples' lives with little impact. Some of this entails love "French style," while at other times a character might drop dead with no more than a mention. Even French soldiers, fighting one of the most savage wars in human history, emote their greatest dramas only when responding to mistakes in Stein's thoughtful, but occasionally absent-minded, letters. The overall effect is comedy, then, and while at times the author reminds us of the Battle of the Marne or the bitter setbacks of artists and couples, the turmoil around and within her characters never overwhelms the characters' insatiable urges to live and laugh. Against a backdrop of world war, the end result is diminished, if not unresolved. To wit, Stein writes of Toklas, "as Gertrude Stein's elder brother once said of me, if I were a general I would never lose a battle, I would only mislay it."
Gertrude Stein was a warm and charitable person. More than eager to help France manage the war--even to the point of driving an ambulance for the A.F.F.W.--she had a Ford motor car shipped to Paris from the States, then shuttled wounded allies in her makeshift ambulance while constantly negotiating with military officers for fuel. She also hosted wayfarers and other visitors at her rue de Fleurus home, where she generously cooked dinner, served wine and critiqued artists' work in-between sleepless nights of work. All this is adorably depicted in the book.
One such artist was Hemingway. Depicting him as a callow, earnest newspaper boy with grand ambition, Stein displayed mixed opinions about him and other writing contemporaries while remaining ebullient when such editors and writers, including F. Scott Fitzgerald, recognized her work. When pointing out the strengths and foibles of her fellow artists she also, along the way, made shrewd observations about art; these commentaries are well worth a look. Both the insider who cavorted with Picasso and the outsider whose work was a target of mockery, Stein maintained a self-image that mirrored the contradictory inspirations around her. Altogether forgetful, telling us through Alice "she has a bad memory for names," a genius-by-association, and a genius personified, she constantly picked herself up, pulled herself together, then embarked on new adventures.
Gertrude Stein is all about adventure and challenge, and since she succeeds in both with a shrug and a laugh, she's also an eminent character. As she conveys through this literary conversation with herself and Alice B. Toklas, Stein might not know why, either; but the answer to why, for this writer, is subordinate to the question. In this work, as observation-upon-observation unfolds, enveloping "the real," "the truth" and "the whole" in both criss-crossing patterns and repetitive sounds, Gertrude Stein searches for deeper, more indefinable truths about her friends and acquaintances--not in terms of form, but in terms of the unconscious. She would vigorously contradict this point, but her work with Radcliff's psychologist William James is evident when she so probes the essences of her characters without killing her patients.
A fine effort by a provocative thinker.
My Titles
Shadow Fields
Snooker Glen
You Will Enjoy and Dislike Portions of this Book [78]
Split into 7 chapters, chronologicallyidentified but the topic not necessarily so well organized, this book has great moments, and less than great moments.
First, the book's preface is that it is an autobiography of Stein's long time partner, Alice B. Toklas.Realizing this preface is nothing more than a ruse - which Stein acknowledges in the last sentence of the book - you immediately understand that it is Stein's autobiography which refers to Stein in the third person.
Second, the preface is that this is fiction. I would argue that it is mostly nonfiction.
In the beginning, the idiosyncratic and egocentric Stein distances herself from readers - other reviewers were gravely upset by her self proclamation of being a genius only equaled by Picasso. But, that juvenile repertoire soon succumbs to Stein's maturation - as a person and as a writer. I too disliked the first chapter where she mainly seeks to receive adoration for having hobnobbed with the avant garde of the turn-of-the-century impressionists and surrealists in Parisian art society.
But, she was there and she was part of that time when painting was a major art form in Paris. It was not only exciting to her, but was exciting to those she hobnobbed with.She was the original American in Paris.
Stein's autobiography is outlined inChapter 4. She gives you her history up to the time she moves to Paris and becomes part of the art scene. In this chapter, she writes one of my favorite paragraphs. " . . . I feel with my eyes, and it does not make any difference to me what language I hear, I don't hear a language, I hear tones of voice, and there is for me only one language and that is english. One of the things that I have liked all these years is to be surrounded by people who know no english. I do not know if it would have been possible to have english be so all in all to me otherwise." (Stein never capitalizes countries)
One friend comes to stay with her, and upon observing the lifestyle of the people to whom Stein is befriended, asks, ". . . is it alright, are they really alright, . . but really is it not fumisterie, is it not all false." And, probably most is fumisterie - so what of it? That is the attitude which defines and describes the artists and their friends at this time.
Then came WW I. Fumesterie and coffee-and-a-croissant philosophy withered when touched by man's horrors. Matisse, Hemingway and Apollinaire were physically reduced by the war. Many others were mentally drained. Stein reflects on how people would become tired for the simplest of tasks. It was a phenomenon which she, a Johns Hopkins' educated psychologist, had to observe with a keen eye.
And, her emotions, her world, her priorities too had changed. The last chapter discusses much less about art, and much more about literature. It can be said the first chapter focuses 90% on art and 10% on literature, while the last chapter focuses 90% on literature and 10% on art. Her friends, in the last chapter, are mainly writers. In the first chapter, they are mainly artists. Like Picasso's painting, her life is a Metamosphisis. And, that is what makes this book so very interesting to me.
She best acknowledges the change of her life in one simple sentence in the last chapter: " Painting now after its great period has come back to be a minor art." And, the new major art was literature - ruled by the Lost Generation of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Ford Maddox Ford and others.
And, so with the change, she remained in the hub
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Not good Gertrude, not good anything
Not an easy book to read...or to like