Gertrude Stein Books

If you've ever lived in Paris, visited Paris, or even just dreamt of Paris, then you need to read this book.

The title `A Moveable Feast' in its brevity tells a lot and is a good example of Hemingway's tight writing style. Hemingway exacted severe discipline upon himself regarding his work, and he set a personal goal, for himself, to write one story about each thing that he knew about. An important lesson he learned about writing was to not think about anything that he was writing from the time he stopped writing one day until he started again the next. That way the subconscious mind could be working on it and at the same time he'd be listening to other people, and noticing everything. He spent many hours at the Louvre studying the works of Cézanne, Monet and Manet as a way to feed his imagination. He had no close friends in Paris during those years although he had on and off relationships with Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, James Joyce and F. Scott Fitzgerald.
One of the most traumatic times of his life, regarding his work, happened when his wife Hadley lost a suitcase containing all of his manuscripts, with the exception of two short stories, `My Old Man' and `Up in Michigan.' The suitcase was never found and one can only imagine the empty feeling he must have felt at the time.
In `A Moveable Feast' Hemingway draws a vivid word picture of Paris that only he could have drawn. Get a copy of the book and let Hemingway guide you through the Paris he knew in the 1920's.

Tom Barnes Actor, Writer and Hurricane Hunter.
Find more at my website about books, blogs, western legends, a literary icon, reviews and interviews, my novels The Goring Collection and Doc Holliday's Road to Tombstone along with a non fiction remembrance of The Hurricane Hunters and Lost in the Bermuda Triangle.
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Ah, Paris!!! "A Moveable Feast" is a memoire of Hemingway's poor but happy life as a young journalist turned novelist in 1920's Paris. Written in Hemingway's unique style, this book offers a variety of snapshots of the young author's life, Paris life in general and the people who comprised the Paris literary scene of the period.

I have only dreamed of Paris. Other than F. Scott Fitzgerald, I have only a passing knowledge of the people mentioned in this work. I am, however, a Hemingway fan, and I enjoy his efficient and straightforward style. The stories he tells and the scenes he describes make one want to be in Paris, and they make one want to learn more about the characters mentioned. In fact, while I applaud Hemingway's brevity, I actually wished for a little more depth--only Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein were discussed in any detail at all.

I enjoyed this book, but if you are going to read Hemingway, this is not the place to start. "The Sun Also Rises" contains much of the same feeling for 1920's Paris, plus it features a great description of the running of the bulls in Pamplona. His best works though are "The Old Man and the Sea" and "For Whom the Bell Tolls." Those are the starting points.

From reading the back of the book I was expecting more details about Paris and his romance with his wife. I later found out (or I understand) that this book was published after his death from a collection of his papers and wasn't intended for a novel. Although its interesting to read about his daily acitivities, I would say that his other works (specifically, A Farewell to Arms) are better representations of Hemingway's talent.

A MOVEABLE FEAST is an autobiographical account by Ernest Hemingway of his time as a struggling young writer spent in Paris and (briefly) Schruns (Austria) with his (first) wife, Hadley, during the period 1921-26. Ernest began writing the book in 1957, and it was edited and published after the author's death by his (fourth) wife, Mary.

I've decided that to appreciate this volume the reader must be one or more of the following:

1. An Ernest Hemingway fan.

2. An F. Scott Fitzgerald fan.

3. Familiar with, and interested in, any of the following literary figures: Gertrude Stein, Sylvia Beach, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Ford Madox Ford.

4. Self-reliant enough to be footloose and fancy free in a foreign city, particularly Paris.

Much of A MOVEABLE FEAST seems rather aimless as Hemingway rattles about his quarter of the French capital, occasionally writing, and often visiting or chatting with other members of the American expatriate community in post-war Paris known as the "Lost Generation". I guess one had to be there to understand why they were "lost".

In the best and longest chapter, "Scott Fitzgerald", Ernest relates a journey he and Scott took to Lyon to recover an automobile the latter had left there - a trip that would have tried the patience of Job and portrays Fitzgerald, though not maliciously on Hemingway's part, as a hypochondriacal alcoholic. On being asked by Hadley if the trip had taught him anything, Ernest replies with what is perhaps the book's most perceptive snippet of wisdom:

"Never go on trips with anyone you do not love."

Notwithstanding the occasional and mild entertainment value of A MOVEABLE FEAST, there was nothing about it that compels me to read anything else by its author. Is Hemingway overrated, or is it just me? Most likely the latter. And, as far as sampling Fitzgerald is concerned, I saw the 1974 film adaptation of The Great Gatsby when it was first released and was, as I recall, bored silly, though my date thought Redford to die for.

I'm awarding four stars solely on the basis of Hemingway's statement expressed early on:

"Going down the stairs when I had worked well ... was a wonderful feeling and I was free then to walk anywhere in Paris." I've tasted that freedom myself in many of the world's great cities, and it's been one of the great and too infrequent joys of my life. Hemingway's memory of his freedom at that time and place is the narrative's central support and well worth the telling.

Perhaps I am a dumb-dumb who just isn't intellectual or Deleuzian enough to 'understand' such a text, and I'll admit that up front. Nonetheless, I believe that poetry is just that--poetry and not a work of fiction--because it effaces itself as language even as it presents itself as language. This is not destruction or effacement for the sake of destruction: this act takes place to allow the vibration that is being, that is communication, to be--without the fascism of an 'author' and 'meaning' getting in the way. By all means, Ariana is a master of the art of effacement, perhaps so much so that she nearly purely entered my flesh. The vibration left after experiencing her act made me feel really hopeless and bad about myself. And in my selfish will to preserve myself, I 'decided' to participate in the act of not liking her book, or at least the act of pretending I don't like it--maybe even fearing its power. I think I'm afraid to loathe my flesh factory. Tomorrow's another day though.

I found this book to be many things; brilliant, compelling, sometimes dark and heartbreaking. The author has much to say and a unique way of saying it. I recommend it highly to any thinking human being and look forward to more from this young poet.

emotions can be largesse. anything can be anything. a cliche has a lot in it. the stakes that are in language aren't so high.

i have to go do what i am supposed to be doing.

love,
ariana

This book is a seamless collage of patches of flesh and pages of
industrial literature, pushing us without a gasmask or sunglasses into
a multi-sensory experience: a new awareness of modern life, a
projection of an animal "I" trapped in a hygienic death machine, "a
non-burn technology that repeatedly achieves guaranteed sterilization
of tissue."

The messenger is an angel playing with its guts, haunted by the
Holocaust of meat's sensitivity. "A kink in the air because something
is in it I am."

A self-conscious fat gooze that by wonder flies and sings with natural
grace over natural filth, knowing that the end is near, because "every
line keens toward the same trough, every line leans over like heavy
lilies, [...] wanting to get dirty and die."

Reines delivers her sincere and complete perception of reality to
whomever reads her words. With bright wit, she puts together the
pieces of the Puzzle in a scheme that we are afraid to recognize.

there are very few books i carry with me everywhere i go; this is one of them. you know what i mean. the words haunt me at the most unexpected moments. you'll be completely and utterly obsessed.

WAITING FOR GERTRUDE by Bill Richardson is a fantasy delight. I've never been to Paris but his tour of the famous cemetery is fantastic, especially for a cat lover.
The famous personages buried there are reincarnated as the cats who inhabit the grounds. Your mind bounces as he combines wit and erudite to create an amazing read.
I gave it to my sister for Christmas, then I borrowed it back to read.
Nash Black, author of WRITING AS A SMALL BUSINESS and SINS OF THE FATHERS.

I'm going to say this was the best book I've read in years. It was quirkey, unique and just plain fascinating. What an imagination this writer has! I love cats. I love literature! This book took those two subjects and blended them together to create the most enjoyable book I've read in a long time. I highly reccommend this to anyone who loves literature, who will appreciate recognizing literary greats plus meeting the most unsual characters ever together in a cemetary all inhabiting the bodies of stray cats!

The basic idea of this book is so intriguing, but the characters, famous people reincarnated as cats, don't capture the essence or even general flavor of those people (Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, etc.). I bought this book because I love cats, I love Pere Lachaise, and I thought it was an interesting and unusual premise to base a book on. Alas, nice idea, good elements, poor execution. I'm disappointed.

This book is absolutely delicious! It is full of puns and hidden references. The exercise in devouring this little gem is worth every second. I didn't want it to end. It is a writers read as well as a readers read I recommend it to everyone who enjoys words. Don't waste another minute buy it! Doesn't hurt if you have spent time in Paris either.

This is one of my absolutely favorite books. The story is funny, sweet and whimsical. If you aren't partial to cats, this may hold no interest
for you, because the entire charm of the story is the idea of all these famous (and infamous) people being reincarnated as felines. To keep faithful Alice B. Toklas company is Proust, Chopin, Collette, Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison, Modigliani and several other former human luminaries.
I pull this book out whenever I feel down or stressed-out and it never fails to cheer me up. It's an easy afternoon read. Don't pass up this little treasure!

I've been reading Richardson's Picasso biography, and he refers so frequently to the Steins that I had to buy this book. I found it absolutely charming, witty, and typical Gertrude Stein. Her prose runs in circles, and she's consistently self-focused. She views herself as a pioneering art doyenne and one of the few who truly understood the art movements in Paris in the early part of the 20th century. But her affection for Picasso is undeniable, and that's what makes this book so wonderful to read.

Picasso often felt that Gertrude in fact did *not* get what was going on with cubism and his and Braque's works. But she liked to have artistic company, Picasso liked that she bought so much of his work, so their relationship worked.

This is a quick book to read - contrary to what another review suggests - and makes for a wonderful Saturday afternoon. It helps if you know something of Picasso's history, so read this with a collection of his work on the side.

Gertrude Stein's fifty-odd page remembrance of Pablo Picasso is brief in page length only. Her convolved writing style challenges the reader to think within the context of Picasso's own creative processes. This is not a quick read, but I was struck by how Stein had her finger on the pulse of Picasso's drive and desire in painting. Her scope is concerned with the Red and Blue Periods and the start of Picasso's role in the invention of Cubism. As much of a literary challenge as it is a close reading of several important Picasso paintings, including Stein's own famous portrait.

As has been written elsewhere (Try Hemingway's A MOVEABLE FEAST, for instance) Gertrude Stein possessed a tremendous ego. She did not express opinions, she stated facts even when the basis for her facts existed only in her head. She also had the irksome habit of repeating the same information many times, often approaching it from slightly different directions. Again, I am certainly not the first to comment on this peculiarity of her writing. That this book is filled with examples of both of the above does not take away from its excellence in revealing much about Picasso and his art.

Stein's fame comes more from her position in the intellectual and artistic community of early to mid twentieth century Paris than from her ability as a writer or poet. It was because of this position that she came to know Picasso so well, and it was as an outgrowth of this personal relationship that this book came to be written.

One area that I found very informative in PICASSO was Stein's analysis of the alternating influences of Picasso's Spanish soul, Paris, and Spain itself, on the various periods of Picasso's artistic development. In this respect, Stein contrasts Spain and France in the following manner: Spain was a sad country with a monotony of coloring while France was the country of Toulouse-Lautrec with vivid colors and images.

With that as a background, she introduced Picasso, as a young man in Spain, painting realistic works in the late nineteenth century manner. This was followed by his first visit to Paris during which he was influenced by the paintings of Toulouse-Lautrec. (See illustration #3, "In the Cafe") He then returned to Spain in 1902, staying until 1904. During this period, his temperament returned to that of his native Spain and he produced the darker, more somber paintings of his "blue period." This period ended with his return to Paris in 1904. Throughout the balance of PICASSO, Stein traced his painting cycles and the people and experiences that influenced them.

Picasso revealed to Stein, and she passed on to us, one of the main secrets of his later styles. He saw as a very young child saw, and painted what he saw through those infantile eyes. An infant sees what it sees from very close up and, consequently, only sees one or two of its mother's features at a time. An infant can't focus at a distance and probably couldn't recognize its own mother from across a room. That infant would probably recognize an eye or a nose, or one or two other features. That same child would probably only recognize its mother in profile, and only from one side at that, i.e., left or right profile, but not both. This was the vision that Picasso brought to his art: a recognizable eye, a nose in profile, and these not necessarily connected in any way that makes sense to the eye of an adult viewer. It was one of the geniuses of Picasso that he could utilize this vision in his art, and it was as a gift that Gertrude Stein let us in on the secret.

I have visited the Picasso museums in Barcelona and Paris, and through their displays, have traced Picasso's evolution as an artist. Neither museum was as instructive relative to Picasso's thought processes as was this small book with its many black and white illustrations. For having providing these insights, I can forgive Gertrude Stein for all her mannerisms and displays of ego.

Much more information about Picasso and the literary and artistic personages of his era can be gained by reading this book. I do recommend it.

In this epochal gem originally published in London in 1938, Gertrude Stein tells of the arrival and rise of Picasso, and through him, Modernism and the 20th century, filtered through her own performance art. By "filtered" I am not suggesting that it is fiction or distorts its subject; in fact, it's a live action postcard from the epicenter of the man and movement. Not only does it inform with fact, it informs with form.

Stein says with characteristic self assurance that she alone understood Picasso and compared what he did in art to what she did with words, and there is merit in the comparison. Picasso, influenced by the Spaniards, came to believe that truth existed in the conceptual realm, it did not come from the material world. Whereas proceeding generations accepted what they saw before them as truth and responded realistically, Picasso chose to portray his inner vision on canvas and backed away from using models. Cubism became his way of signifying how he experienced the significance of the still life or human form. A person, a tableau was not perceived as the whole but as parts, some of them standing out more prominently than others. Similarly, Stein orders her information according to emphasis, with her characteristic tic of repetition--remember, this is the person who gave us lines like "A rose is a rose is a rose" and "there is no there, there."

Stein does not overindulge herself, however, and imparts a generous amount of lucid thought on how Picasso created and from what and whom he drew his influences. She progresses chronologically through his periods-the blue, the rose, the harlequin, Cubist, calligraphic, etc., up to the point she was writing. This plus salient insights into society, war, creative artists and the 20th century in general make the volume quite a deal in a small package.

This is really a terrific compilation--I'm speaking as a cheap undergradaute, here--because it really is all the Stein that most people will need, unless one gets into the whole Lost Generation phase (you know, getting grants to research and inspect Joyce and Hemingway's bar tabs, trying to find the last living Picasso slept with, that sort of thing) and then the books will suffice. Today is Saturday. Saturday in the afternoon winds blow. Repeating more and more and repeating the same thing this volume stricken of commas does its job. Nouns still in the way. The thing is, very few people (I hope not to sound ignorant, only honest) are going to finish "The Making of the Americans" or "Tender Buttons" (although, I must say, coming back to "Tender Buttons" after reading it, or trying to, two years ago, it makes more and more "sense," in a sense, every time I come across it the few times I have chosen it to come across me) and so it is good to have one volume with these and Melanctha and the Toklas "autobio" (Stein's most-likely-to-be-completely-read work) in its entirety.

I am saying again and I will repeat again to emphasize again that one ought to buy this work this work the selected writings of gertrude stein instead of buying the autobiography of alice b. toklas which is a fine book yet an expensive book as books go compared to this book a book that is more expensive but commensurately valuable as value is. Book to be bought needs the buying.

Normally I am hesitant to give a book 5 stars, I try to save this rating for when I really really really am impressed by it, and if this hadn't been a compilation of Stein's writing, I might not have given it this rating. It is really Carl Van Vechten that deserves the stars, Stein's writing is a bit much to digest or even swallow a lot of times, but Van Vechten gives an insightful foreword and has selected a diverse array of this colorful and eccentric author's writing. I had never read any of her work before I happened upon this edition and it proved insightful to be able to compare Tender Buttons and The Autobiography of Alice B.Toklas together side by side, as this edition allows you to do. A good way to gain a feel for the work of Gertrude Stein

I think Gertrude Stein is a supreme literary artist of the 20th century, and this anthology offers a wide range of her work, which ranges from poetry to essays. Her writing is difficult to penetrate, but in her case, and I rarely say this about abstruse writing, it enhances the effect. It's as if underneath words lies the human being itself, in all its feeling and rhythms, and language is a mere shadow of this self. Her words are like paths crisscrossing around the being, so that the reader can eventually see the whole. Magnificant artist. She also was apparently a good person, having befriended Hemingway, James, Picasso and others. A+.

for anyone who loves to be introduced
from one book to another
from one writer to another
from one artist to another
from one person to another.
it's one big ball of yarn that was carefully untangled to present the reader with two ends of the string.

This book gives one of the best overviews of Gertrude Stein and her crowd! When it first came out almost 30 years ago, I read it and have been hooked on Stein and Alice and Picasso and Hemingway and Anderson and Wilder and on and on. Mellow provides very detailed information about the lives of all these greats and some have criticized him for his almost gossipy, "Entertainment Tonight" style. But what better way to feel a part of this circle of extraordinary people? Had more high school and college English and Art teachers used this book, there would be more readers and fans for this amazing artistic period! Hats off to the publisher for re-issuing this book!

This book doesn't present any great revelations and certainly won't surprise those already familiar with the egomaniacal Ms. Stein but for anyone who has suffered the pains of sibling rifts this is any interesting read. Both brother and sister are tortured and pathetic in their own ways, Gertrude for having stubbornly believed she was a literary genius (a delusion I doubt fostered by very many today with the value of her literary contributions negligible) and Leo for having simply been a neurotic posterchild who couldn't go on with his life after their separation. This is a better book still because it does not focus on Gertrude's non-existent literary legacy but instead chooses to reveal two lives both richly interesting and complex and yet with a bitter vulnerability.

Brenda Wineapple's SISTER BROTHER tells the story of thedevelopment of a remarkably close and rich relationship betweenGertrude and Leo Stein. Gertrude -- writer, esthetic innovator, feminist precursor-- and her brother Leo -- art collector extraordinaire, scholar manque--were a remarkable pair. From their childhood in a family bereft of its mother, through years in the heady intellectual atmosphere of turn-of-the-century Harvard and Johns Hopkins, Leo and Gertrude depended on one another and grew along similar paths. When they settled in Paris, their apartment became the center for all who wished to know about modern painting: about Cezanne, Picasso, Matisse, all of whose paintings hung in profusion on their walls.

But what hangs together-- whether brother and sister, or a great art collection -- can come undone, and it is the glory of this joint biography that Wineapple so carefully and tenderly traces the forces -- sexual appetites and obsessions, intellectual competitions, the powerful dialectic between dependence and autonomy -- which led to an absolute rupture between Leo and Gertrude, a rupture so complete that they never talked or wrote to one another again, for a period of thirty years. In those thirty years Gertrude became a central force in modern literature, while Leo subsided from the world into fad diets and unfinished projects. And yet, and yet: Wineapple does not sit in judgement, and it is the triumph of this book that Leo's many failures are as human, and as touching, and Gertrude's many successes: the reader ends up seeing ythe weaknesses of both, yet greatly admiring both.

The subject of the book, finally, is not Gertrude and Leo, but the strange, tender, and torrential emotions that run between brothers and sisters, and the many routes through life which lead either to social failure or social success.

Stein's other (and commendable) forays into experimental writing aside, this clever (auto)biography reminds us that the woman knew exactly what she was doing and there is indeed no "joke" or "prank" to be seen here. In its own manner just as experimental as some of her so-called "difficult" work, 'Autobiography' is exquisite. Tight yet effusive, cautious yet boundless, boring yet gripping. Really, it's a tour de force disguised as a tour de force disguised as a tour de force. (HAD to note that). Yes, this is an eminently readable work by a true genius who was, pre-eminently, "aware."

As a document of artistic/historical merit, the work is invaluable for its content alone. Again, Stein reveals more in what she so explicitly does "not" say than a million authors can ever hope to communicate with an infinite number of words. Required reading for any lover of literature, 20th century and beyond.

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

I picked up The Autobiography of Alice B Toklas after hearing about it for years. It is toted as a story about the relationship between two great influences in the Parisian world of arts and letters in the early 20th century. Instead I found a hagiography of Gertrude Stein written by Ms. Stein herself. According to her self-proclamations, she was a genius, a great writer, an auto mechanic, a great conversationalist, a supporter of the arts, etc., etc. The only one of these I feel competent to comment on is her skills as a writer. If this book is an example of her writing, then I am not convinced that she was a great writer.

In its favor, The Autobiography does paint a picture, abstract but true, of the artistic world of Paris during the early 20th century. The most interesting chapter was the Was Years, where Alice and Gertrude Stein aided in support for soldiers during World War I.

To me, this book is greatly overrated and not worth the time it takes to read it.

This is an odd little book but an enjoyable one. The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas was actually written by, and focuses on, Gertrude Stein. She presents herself as a rather enigmatic figure. She is the intimate friend of a number of first-rate artists and writers, and she maintains a legendary Paris salon. She identifies herself as a genius - actually, one of a group of three geniuses, the other two being Pablo Picasso and Alfred North Whitehead - but she doesn't feel compelled to justify the characterization. The narrative is essentially a chronology of a series of dinners, parties, and other outings with the names of the people who came. A very dry wit is occasionally seen, as when Picasso and cubist painter Georges Braque go to see an art dealer wearing their "newest and roughest clothes." The tone of the narrative is relaxed and friendly and it seems that Alice and Gertrude Stein had fun, if nothing else.

Split into 7 chapters, chronologically identified 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 in Chapter 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

I can't believe how complimentary the reviews on here are for these poems. Ugh. When I read them, I want to tear every last hair out of my skull.

I am a student of poetry and a poet myself. I can't say I am any better than a Gertrude Stein who is a legend, but I didn't find this particular book of poems enjoyable to read.

The collection itseld if quite attractively packaged, is of a comfortable length and is quite inexpensive if you are looking for good points. I find the poems, however, overly experimentative.

The first section of the book I found the most interesting with the word play, but an entire book of word play and little narrative arc could not hold my attention. This is still a must read for a student of poetry as the language poets build, and other poets, from the work Stein did in this book. For the average population? I'd say pass on this one.

advice: read tender buttons as though you've never read before/as though you're a child being introduced to an english language primer- now create (as participant-reader) with aforesaid text allowing the emergence of "un-meaning" as a sort of distilled thingness. what stein attempted with words/pastiche-paralleled the work of analytic?cubists-proto-objectification that made things of words not (not necessarily)in reference to parrticulars but rather retaining a certain concretized essence.

Looking for plot, conflict and character developement? Then move on, this is Gertrude's free-flowing automatic writing.
Ms. Stein is crucial reading to round out one's literary experiance and from that vantage point stars are irrelavant; good, bad or indifferent it is literary history. Did I finish it though? No, I did not.

Mimic and talk and write like some kind of Gertrude Stein. We don't know what roots are - rootless - my generation is not lost - we're staying put on the couch where we live. No one can say we're not (or are) expatriate because the shores of our big sea end at the edges of a computer screen - are virtual (and not) reality - no one travels to get there. No hurt feelings (disaffected) because we're all equal - a populist nightmare with the volume turned down. The self-leveling society. Every idea is as good as another is as good as none as all are included. Our defects become differences become diversity become democracy become diluted and die. An eye for an eye made the whole world blind or one-eyed and only some (although they don't want to be singled out) try to make something new something cyclopean (formerly one could say at least but that is pejorative) toward the future but that detracts from the past which we defend on principle only but not in actuality so as soon as we can think of it we'll change that name too but don't pressure us.

As the famous review of Anthony Adverse went, similarly goes my review of this tedious little tape: "A Huge Mountain of Trash". It, however, is only huge in its trashiness, not in size or content. Perhaps my review of this would be more accurate as: "A small pile of gibberish."

While this tape is, as already observed, a brief selection of Stein's reading, it is essential to anyone who loves, or would like to learn to love, her work. The cadences and intonations of her readings reveal everything we need to know about her purposes and methods as a writer; even the most hermetic and arcane of her work becomes "readable" if her voice is present as one reads. This is not merely a precious historical document, but the perfect gateway to the treasures of Stein.

Briefly, Gertrude, briefly and succinctly, succinctly is as it was and it was as it was remembered. A golden voice, an only voice a voice is as separate as a letter not sent, a letter not sent, not written not not sent not not delivered. A voice to stop stars, stars as they shine, shine shine as is as it was remembered stars as wars not remembered not remembered too painfully, not rememebered as succinctly as briefly as this tape is. A winner in brief, brief as a winner a golden winnner with a voice to stop stars. Miss Stein the secret is still with you.

Gertrude Stein's work is meant to be read. She accomplished the same ends with words as did the cubists with paint. Her work defies linear syntax and conventional gramerical boundaries. She takes an object and strips all traces of reality from that object and presents it so that only the idea of that object remains. And it is the idea that Stein considered the most important. Her writing is frustrating at first and this audio casset makes Stein more accessible. You get a feel for the flow of her poetry. The rhyme and timbre that is elusive on the page is brought to life. Although this selection is short and doesn't give a hint as to when or where or under what circumstances it was recorded it still provides the reader with the essence of Stein.