If you like the 70s New York art and music scene, with all the depravity, drugs, drink, name dropping, sex and fun, this is the book for you. I loved it.
Extraordinary memoir about the artist, a privileged midwestern boy who seems to have met everyone who mattered in the cutting edge rock 'n' roll scene in the 1970s. A social butterfly who ingested vast quantities of alcohol, drugs and French movies during his years of artistic education in NYC. (Each chapter ends with a reading list.) A miracle he didn't explode.
The only other review by Alan says it much better than I could have. I would add if you have an interest in NYC’s downtown scene in the 70s and love name dropping, it’s lots of fun.
i wanted to enjoy this book a lot, but unfortunately there is only so much i can enjoy about the diary of an extremely heterosexual man coming of age in the 70s. that is to say, his descriptions of women felt very objectifying, and were incessant. every girl who entered the scene (lovers, friends, random people in the streets) was accompanied by a description of their chest and hair and body. im not opposed to romantic and sexual descriptions of women, usually im in favor of being so blunt (especially when the same treatment is given to men) but this felt so pointless, tasteless. also features some of the cringiest pseudo-poetic euphemisms for vaginas that i have ever heard. her "folds" ? really?
its hard to judge though. like i said, this is a diary (though hannah does claim to have edited it significantly). if i chose to publish my diary there are certainly things i would understand someone judging in a goodreads review. i appreciate the honesty, i dont necessarily wish he had covered it up, i just think it means this is not the book / not the perspective? for me.
i just feel like im missing something. new york in the 70s and all the girls and queers are side characters who float through hannahs life. each glimpse of them seems far more interesting (to me) than him-probably because of relatability-but i guess HE is the one that chose to document it all, so ill give him credit for that.
i was also hoping for a better wrap up. the ending seemed a bit blunt. i know its silly to expect a nice bow, a simple conclusion to things like addiction and life as an artist and the changing late-70s new york, but i wouldve appreciated a bit more reflection.
again, kind of an impossible book to judge in many ways because the diary format makes it difficult for him to make changes beyond editing down
ill also say i think a stronger love for the sort of artists and musicians hannah associated with wouldve helped a lot. ive got a level of respect / interest for / in warhol, bowie, patti smith, but theyre not really the people i get worked up about
it did make me far more appreciative of my local scene though. i love communities of creative people and i think what is happening in boston right now is really excellent, and evidently a lot safer. i guess i need to get better a documenting...
While I enjoyed Hannah’s ruminations on the NYC scene of the 70s of which he was a very active participant, the book quickly became repetitious as the author embarked on one drunken binge after another all the while reminding us what a pretty boy everyone he came into contact with apparently found him to be. Personally I found him to be, based on his own words, a narcissist and a bit misogynistic. However, I will say that, judging from the many lists that he includes, Hannah did have fantastic taste in books, movies and music.
I loved reading this book. I knew the author as a child and went to his book reading in Minneapolis a few years ago. I was totally engaged in his journal, and enjoyed his frankness about his escapades. What a time he had in New York! I was so sorry to hear of his passing in June this year.
An up-close, honest, and personal account of life with the it-people of 1970s New York. It is often very funny, and as an artist myself, usually very relatable. I'll probably read this book again at some point.
I did not want to finish this book as I did not want the party to end. At its heart (putting white male privilege aside) this is a book about the magic that exists in the world when we are young. It's about being 20 something and believing that tomorrow anything can happen. Here anything can and almost does happen and while it is easy to be bowled over by the characters that appear in aspiring painter Duncan Hannah's life, it doesn't take more than 5 years before the coveted "it-boy" status starts to fade. What prevents tragedy here is DH's good fortune, good looks and a rather remarkable self posession, his budding alcoholism notwithstanding. Great lines include: "It was like talking to Gogol" and "I loved my afternoon with Nico." A fun-yet-sometimes-not fun voyeristic view of a young artist’s life in the city that never slept in the 70's.