tI’d like to start this review by mentioning that I haven’t reviewed a book in a very long time, and hardly ever of my own accord in such a fashion. But I have this year dedicated myself to reading 30 books. A lofty goal, you say? Perhaps, but one that I am anxious to accomplish. After completing two years of college and earning my Associate’s degree, I have now been out of school for two full years. Reading books on the regular, especially rich books with heavy concepts, literature that stimulates the parts of my brain that have possibly started to rest since my freedom from the standardized school ended. I want to continue educating (and entertaining) myself, more or less, and for me, there is no better way than by means of reading. tFrom this point I decided that I could push myself further on the cognitive front by writing reviews of these books that I have read. (I feel obliged to point out that I have never been a fan of most book reviews, or reviews in general of anything. It’s incredibly boring reading most opinions, and I never planned until now to be part of the flood of regurgitated opinions about this or that book.) A book is a journey. Writing down your experience of the journey and what it meant for your individual insignificant brain seems like an appropriate means to completing said journey. I’d also like to avoid churning these 30 books in and out without giving them at the least a pithy afterthought. tWithout further ado, this is my review of Diane Di Prima’s Memoirs of a Beatnik. Before cracking open this book, which was a gift from a great friend of mine and came highly recommended to me, I didn’t know what the hell a beatnik was. But now I can tell anyone with confidence who happens to ask, “Hey babes, what’s a beatnik? Never heard of that shit,” the beatniks were a group of young, creative, conscious individuals coming out from the war era in 1950’s New York City. They were the predecessors to the “hippie,” and as Di Prima mentions in the book, she at least considered the hippie the sell-out of the beatniks. There are connections to the Beat literature movement, “beat” evoking down-troddenness but also beauty and revolution.tFor me, one of the most interesting parts of reading this book was the way it jumps around so chaotically. For the people who can’t handle unconventional book structure, to you I say, you’re basic. It’s a coming of age, it’s discovery of sexuality, it is a meditation of human connections and the nature of relationships, and perhaps most importantly, a window into the soul of that very fascinating place and time.
A schizophrenic book, with two distinct personalities: hardcore smut and bohemian memoir. It starts out on the smutty side--the first three chapters are basically quick set-ups for sex scenes--and the sex is written about in classic porno style (lots of lines like "I took his huge, throbbing cock into my hungry, wet pussy."). Fun to read, though I didn't find it erotic enough to actually get my blood moving. What kept me reading was the other side of the story, those glimpses of bohemian life, of life as lived by someone with no real interest in making even a somewhat comfortable living. Poverty and squalor, free-spirited artists, fags and outcasts. The account is hardly cohesive, and could be more eloquent in its delivery, but it feels real, and it covers a truly fascinating time period--the start of the American counterculture movement, a decade before the 60s (di Prima guesses that there are maybe another 400 or so bohemian types in the entire United States during this period, and I believe her). I'm currently reading di Prima's more "proper" memoir, Recollections of My Life as a Woman, written several decades later, and compared to this it feels like an old lady's whine-fest. Memoirs of a Beatnik might be sort of juvenile, with it's hormone-driven sex-obsession and it's wide-eyed naivete, but frankly, it's all the better for it.
Do You like book Memoirs Of A Beatnik (1998)?
I have to say that although my initial opinion of this book was not high; I ended up enjoying this book a great deal. The sex scenes end up being almost a joke and later I found out it was because the publisher made her put in more and more and more sex. (Read the notes at the end) She desperately needed the money so she did what the publisher wanted. Minus the gratuitous sex, this book is actually a pretty interesting account of what was happening in 1950's and 60's New York. It seems to mostly focus on The Village neighborhood. What a great melting pot that neighborhood was and how it really was a great time to be an artist cause the city was a lot more free in some ways and there were cheaper places to live. Things just seemed a lot more interesting. Artists and writers could afford to be artists and writers. They could afford to take odd jobs or weird jobs so that they could work on their creativity. This book ended up being a nice little slice of life story and so I gave it 4 stars.
—Mel
I should have done more research before I bought this book. I was after a behind the scenes cultural history of the Beats and not really the porno novel that this is. In between the graphic accounts of incest and orgies there are some worthwhile observations and insights into the lives of young bohemians living in New York in the 1950's though. It's all rendered quite well however, but not what I was wanting which was something a bit more along the lines of Joyce Johnson's Minor Characters. Although it must be said the book was written by Di Prima purely as a sensational sex "romp" so she could make some quick money. If you are interested in doing a thorough reading of Beat literature then I guess its worth a skim. Having got halfway, nah I can't go on its rubbish.
—Tim Boroughs
I laugh at all the negative reviews of the book because all they saw was a pornographic novel, which is true, because that is what is was written as. But there is stuff hidden beneath the surface that you really don't notice until the last chapter. This was a woman who was beat outside of the beats for a long time. She was someone outside of Kerouac and Ginsberg's circle, so she wasn't even aware the was a thing called Beat until she read Howl. But most of the sex was written just to satisfy her publishers so she could get paid. And I think the Author's note and the Afterword says a lot to why she wrote this book the way she did.Now I went into this book knowing what to expect because my teacher warned us before reading it for my Beat class. So yes I can understand why you would be disappointed. But the focus on sex was only to satisfy the publisher since a lot of it was made up. Even the term beatnik was the Hollywood term for the Beats and so you could see that it really isn't something that she could term "serious" writing as she mentions in her afterword.
—Kelli Heidelberger
