Elizabeth Fleming's Reviews > Just Kids
Just Kids
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I found this book to be quite boring, unfortunately, especially given the fact that Smith is arguably an artistic genius. It started off strong, but after a bit the writing style began to wear on my nerves (examples: using the word "for" instead of "because," as in "I went to the diner, for I was hungry" and "I hadn't any money" instead of "I didn't have any money" and "I lay upon the mattress" instead of the simpler "I lay on," which all felt somewhat pretentious). Then she goes on and on (and on) about Rimbaud. So much Rimbaud. And Baudelaire. So. Much. Baudelaire. Her sentences were also quite choppy and repetitive—I could essentially sum it up as: "I met a boy named Robert. We loved each other. We hadn't any money. One day I bought a raincoat from a thrift store. I went to France and visited Rimbaud's grave and wore my raincoat for it was raining. Robert was a genius and we lay upon a mattress. One time I met Jimi Hendrix. Then he died. Then I wore my raincoat out in New York and I bumped into Ginsberg. He bought me a sandwich for I was hungry and hadn't any money. The end."
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Ian
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rated it 5 stars
May 18, 2012 01:45AM

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She seems like such a sweet, strange little creature. For me, somehow pretentiousness plays zero part. She's just an artsy weirdo without a mean bone in her body, and she weaves such a beautiful little story about her first true love.
I'm usually such a jaded jackass, but I loved it.




I argued once with a friend over the lyric for the Stones' Ruby Tuesday....I'd thought it was "catch your dreams before they slip away," my friend argued it was "cash your dreams before they slip away." He was right. Alas.





