Her

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

A surreal semi-autobiographical blackbook record of a semi-mad period of my life, in that mindless, timeless state most romantics pass through, confusing flesh madonnas with spiritual ones. This is how the author describes this extraordinary expatriate novel.

Genres: Poetry, Fiction, American, Novels, 20th Century, Classics, Literature

157 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1960

About the author

A prominent voice of the wide-open poetry movement that began in the 1950s, Lawrence Ferlinghetti has written poetry, translation, fiction, theater, art criticism, film narration, and essays. Often concerned with politics and social issues, Ferlinghetti’s poetry countered the literary elite's definition of art and the artist's role in the world. Though imbued with the commonplace, his poetry cannot be simply described as polemic or personal protest, for it stands on his craftsmanship, thematics, and grounding in tradition.

Ferlinghetti was born in Yonkers in 1919, son of Carlo Ferlinghetti who was from the province of Brescia and Clemence Albertine Mendes-Monsanto. Following his undergraduate years at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, he served in the U.S. Navy in World War II as a ship's commander. He received a Master’s degree from Columbia University in 1947 and a Doctorate de l’Université de Paris (Sorbonne) in 1950. From 1951 to 1953, when he settled in San Francisco, he taught French in an adult education program, painted, and wrote art criticism. In 1953, with Peter D. Martin (son of Carlo Tresca) he founded City Lights Bookstore, the first all-paperbound bookshop in the country, and by 1955 he had launched the City Lights publishing house.

The bookstore has served for half a century as a meeting place for writers, artists, and intellectuals. City Lights Publishers began with the Pocket Poets Series, through which Ferlinghetti aimed to create an international, dissident ferment. His publication of Allen Ginsberg’s Howl & Other Poems in 1956 led to his arrest on obscenity charges, and the trial that followed drew national attention to the San Francisco Renaissance and Beat movement writers. (He was overwhelmingly supported by prestigious literary and academic figures, and was acquitted.) This landmark First Amendment case established a legal precedent for the publication of controversial work with redeeming social importance.

Ferlinghetti’s paintings have been shown at various galleries around the world, from the Butler Museum of American Painting to Il Palazzo delle Esposizioni in Rome. He has been associated with the international Fluxus movement through the Archivio Francesco Conz in Verona. He has toured Italy, giving poetry readings in Roma, Napoli, Bologna, Firenze, Milano, Verona, Brescia, Cagliari, Torino, Venezia, and Sicilia. He won the Premio Taormino in 1973, and since then has been awarded the Premio Camaiore, the Premio Flaiano, the Premio Cavour. among others. He is published in Italy by Oscar Mondadori, City Lights Italia, and Minimum Fax. He was instrumental in arranging extensive poetry tours in Italy produced by City Lights Italia in Firenze. He has translated from the italian Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Poemi Romani, which is published by City Lights Books. In San Francisco, his work can regularly be seen at the George Krevsky Gallery at 77 Geary Street.

Ferlinghetti’s A Coney Island of the Mind continues to be the most popular poetry book in the U.S. It has been translated into nine languages, and there are nearly 1,000,000 copies in print. The author of poetry, plays, fiction, art criticism, and essays, he has a dozen books currently in print in the U.S., and his work has been translated in many countries and in many languages. His most recent books are A Far Rockaway of the Heart (1997), How to Paint Sunlight (2001), and Americus Book I (2004) published by New Directions.

He has been the recipient of numerous prizes, including the Los Angeles Times’ Robert Kirsch Award, the BABRA Award for Lifetime Achievement, the National Book Critics Circle Ivan Sandrof Award for Contribution to American Arts and Letters, the American Civil Liberties Union’s Earl Warren Civil Liberties Award. Ferlinghetti was named San Francisco’s first poet laureate.

Reviews

[Dana Jerman · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Yet I'm still somebody, even if I'm nowhere.
I'm a painter in a shingle shack on a far spit at tide's end at nightfall, trying to produce a world's face from the composite face of many people painting one long picture all my life...

"The message of my eyes was a tongue stopping her tongue, my eyes were lips stopping her lips with kisses that were keys, and this was but the start of it, and I had another skeleton key, lower down, which I could insert in her keyhole, to turn the love of her.

2 parts scream-of-consciousness. Really beautiful work. And sexy.

[Max Nemtsov · Rating 5 out of 5]

Битницко-сюрреалистический роман (с упором на сюрреализм). Ожившие картины Де Кирико, Дали и Эрнста, очень европейский текст, наглядная иллюстрация связи между «потерянным» и «битым» поколениями, роман безвременья. И весьма ироничный — а ирония и самоирония, мы понимаем, у битников никогда не была сильным местом. Это роман в первую очередь художника, роман парижский (с краткой экскурсией в Рим) — а конкретнее роман Левого берега.
Покончим с восторженным бульканьем, немного компаративистики. Если вдруг кому-то было интересно поискать литературный первоисточник для текстов Саши Соколова, то вот он. Я не к тому, что Соколов списывал у Ферлингетти, но духовная, методологическая и стилистическая связь между «Ею» и его романами — вот она. Поэзии в нем больше, чем прозы, если это и «поток сознания», то высокодисциплинированный, а не вот это вот «take a word, any word». Бриллиант, в общем.

[William Thomas · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book, although published in english by an american author has all the awkwardness of a russian translation, as well as the russians' penchant for repetition. ferlinghetti seems to use this device unwittingly, however, and not because he is as the russians were, thinking that everyone else is too stupid to grasp the symbolism and imagery and metaphor and thus ramming it home to force the audience's understanding of their masterpiece. in her, it is more like a drunk who is trying to ram home a point in a conversation, although the conversation has changed topics numerous times. it makes the book damn near unbearable. i liked much of the imagery, however, and some of the word play is brilliant, but the fact of its awkwardness and unintentional repetition makes it a grueling task, unlike burroughs and kerouac in their stream of concious writing, their sub-concious writing, it is something to be read once and then never again, if not for the imagery, but for the lesson to other writers on how not to construct a piece.

[Francis · Rating 2 out of 5]

Having been a fan of his poetry, I was curious as to his one longer work. Sadly, I was disappointed. I understand the idea of stream of conscious writing, but have never been a fan of it. The book started off with some interesting thoughts (maybe in the first 20 pages or so) and then dragged on and down for the rest. There were brief moments of interesting thoughts, but they were couched in with so much drivel that after a certain point I had lost all interest and sympathy in the narrator and his thoughts. I only give this two stars due to the language and the beginning of the book which I enjoyed. My advice, though, if you're looking into Ferlinghetti--stick wit his poetry.

[Daniel Schechtel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great piece of work! Rather difficult to read, but illuminating for moments, humorous and visually and iconically surrealist and impresionist, this novel (who owes much of its aesthetics to Beckett, I'd dare say) reminded me of the novels I always wanted to write but never did (or finished doing) because of their obscurity and the pervasion of seemingly random disconnected thoughts (or because what I take as readers' lazyness, I'd dare say), even though in "Her" one can find a complex almost plastic (in the sense of painting) web pattern of motives, images and allusions which defy altogether the kantian categories of time and space.
I also suggest reading it under narcotic mental conditions.

[Tommy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loved this book. It's totally manic and confused. I can easily imagine Ferlinghetti writing this on a bunch of uppers or an absinthe binge.

Different from other beats like Kerouac, in that the story is much less clear. There is still action but it's just a continuous forward motion. Sometimes at a trudge and others at a full sprint. The story's all about feelings of longing, despair, clumsiness, ineptitude, and self-loathing. I liked the hazy and confused manic highs and lows, and am looking forward to reading more Ferlinghetti.

[Lanny · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think this is one of the earliest books I bought and still have. I can remember the smell of it. I can remember a warm Summer day reading this at a picnic with my girlfriend..
The distant strangeness of those fluid little run-on sentences
and jumbly bumbly perceptions.. mmm.

[Ellie · Rating 5 out of 5]

ah - Ferlinghetti! the 60’s! NYC! Washington Square Park, David Peel and the Lower East Side, St. Marks and 2nd Avenue, Cheetahs!, Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera... The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Steve Paul’s The Scene.
Abbie Hoffman, Suzie and I on East 53rd.

[Adam Bashaw · Rating 3 out of 5]

Such beautifully written nonsense.

[Maya · Rating 2 out of 5]

I did not understand this book

[Jay Mathias · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wonderful prose, a bubbling stream of somnambulist theatrics . Definitely quite challenging at times . admittedly - I skimmed some parts I found a bit repetitive. Overall I love the rhythm of the text even though i may feel lost, I feel like was i meant to be somewhat lost , and I imagine Ferlinghetti may have been . It really is like walking through a dreamscape and recognizing vaguely familiar symbols and themes but in unfamiliar, odd, nonsensical situations.

Great stuff , must-read. TLDR: from the back of the book : a “laby-rêve” (Dream labyrinth)
3.5 stars !

[Andy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think it is probable that I was not in the right frame of mind for this book, at this time. A stream of consciousness, hip, thoughts, and words, that have become strangely dated. I connected with it sporadically, but was not caught up in it, and I suspect that is the only way that you really enjoy it.

[James · Rating 2 out of 5]

I typically enjoy experimental literature and this one is certainly an interesting experiment, but I can’t say it left much of an impression. There’s a lot of word play. Maybe I would have enjoyed this more as an audio book…

[Nathan Conboy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Even though this book scores low on my list. It is one worth revisiting. This is offers an experience that I have yet to read in other fictions. "Her" is a book that lives in my coinciousness and demands to be reread, revisited, and understood.

[svitcak · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not a bad book. Very abstract with a few very nice thoughts and pages. However, it is not exactly my cup of tea and the knot of a story is very frustrating and random.

[Fernando Sobral · Rating 2 out of 5]

Better when read aloud. Beautiful images, but a bit repetitive.

[Heidi Greco · Rating 3 out of 5]

Experimental novel that doesn't work as well as his poems. Still, of some interest.

[Lilly Brenneman · Rating 4 out of 5]

beautiful, funny, and horny. —self aware?? not so sure!

[eunieunieunie · Rating 2 out of 5]

He has beautiful moments of lyrical romantic ways of describing the world around him. However the book feels like a run-on sentence about a character over thinking everything that you get annoyed of reading. Especially when things get over sexualized from a white man's perspective-- it's quite outdated reading it today. I much preferred Ferlinghetti's 'Love in the Days of Rage' where he finally writes in a narrative prose versus a confusing long format 'poem'.

[Grace Camille · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had been looking for her for a long time in the street of the earth, I had come home nowhere but where her traces were. (32)

I saw her as a creature entirely alone, her naked body not strange and classic in its unbelievable loneliness, but simply unfinished, incomplete. (35)

One of the lovers tore out the heart of his mother, stumbled up with it, dropped it on the dance floor before the other, ad the heart rolled over gasping "Are you hurt, my son?" (38)

There were six flowers in her garden. I picked the petals off all six flowers to prove what I wanted to believe. She loved me not. She loved me. And her eyes said to me: It is different in my country. It is too warm there for people to die. (41)

She came at last to today in the Rue de Vaugirard where I had not heard the music stop and had not heard the funky bird stop singing in my turning head at a turning point of that endless bookmovie that some hack had adapted from an endless parade of figures who might have been myself in a parody of my life which was itself based upon an endless sexual fantasy centered on some vague unmet figure of love with longing hair whose eyes held what I took for speechless messages, the young fanatic heart so spare in flight. (61)

I went before it, down to the Seine. There the air and the trees fell still, though butterflies still flew about, paper whimsies, crepe birds. Lost petals, blown along the quais, towards Saint-Michel, on past it. (78)

I'm no longer anybody's son for I grew up against grownups and now myself am one against myself and yet have a long way to go and yet have only begun. (144)

I am just beginning to see, how all these stray things add up and everybody adds up to all the same thing and the damn thing's still growing and this movie made-up out of a lot of parts of other peoples' films all glued together and one life is a lot of people's lives hung together in space only it's all kept in the dark it's all kept coiled away. (150)

. . . but where do they birds go when they die if they already are men's souls. (154)

[Andrew Dietz · Rating 3 out of 5]

It took me a year to finish this book, ostensibly a novella, because it necessitated reading in great bursts followed by long pauses. I wish I had kept track of how many sentences were used, as I'm sure the answer would be around ten. Ferlinghetti, in my opinion, works best as a poet, and I'm loathe to admit that this book, largely tumbling gushes of stream-of-consciousness dreamlike passages (mostly pertaining to the horror and awe and beauty of Woman, All-Woman, the titular "Her"), punctuated by his wonderfully idiosyncratic and jokey word-play (I'm a sucker for alliteration, puns, and "unwords", and all three are used liberally) would have been better off edited down to a long-form poem, or collection of poems. Books like these read strangely, nearly suffering from an over-indulgence in post-modernism's disdain for linear plot or defined characters, and when I finally finished it I felt no real relief or closure. That being said, some passages are as great as anything Ferlinghetti's written, and I'll surely find myself opening to random pages and treat it like the book of poems it should have been. Then again, Ferlinghetti always insisted that his stuff be read aloud, preferably with musical accompaniment ("A Coney Island of the Mind" even includes a list of recommended jazz records to which to read the poems), so this book may deserve a re-read soon with rhythm and cadence strongly in mind, now that I've slogged through all the Words for the better part of a year.

[Andrea Janov · Rating 4 out of 5]

It made me yearn to be a young, expat, in Europe. It made me yearn to walk, explore, write. It made me want to get madly involved in a stranger's life.

[Chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

This "novel" reads as one long rambling sentence, and while that can be very trying and annoying as an experiment, the writing is beautiful and intriguing. It's sort of about how we make our memories or desires of people into objects, but then it's about everything else. Or it's really just about Ferligheti having some sort of masturbatory fantasy. Who's to say?

[David]

only four chapters, stream of consciousness narrative that will pummel you with one powerful image after the other; surprising, involved, not for those who aren't active readers....

one big prose poem to say the least.

[Adrian Todd · Rating 2 out of 5]

hard to follow, scatterbrained, parts were better than others, some repetitive chunks, some repetitive chunks

[Fritz Misteli · Rating 4 out of 5]

I guess I read it at the right time.

[Maddy]

I need a week and a bottle of absinthe to finish this one, and I do mean that as a compliment and excuse for not finishing it.

[Jason · Rating 4 out of 5]

my new favorite book of all time(for this month)

[Gabrielle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely brilliant! A complete self-indulgent submersion into pure beatnik decadence, into sexy poetic prose that flows like wine through cobbled streets lined with artists and dreamers...

[George · Rating 2 out of 5]

man, don't remember much of anything about this, set in france i believe, a novel. yikes. i remember not liking it then which i can only imagine wouldn't make it any better now?