Patti Smith at the Venice International Film Festival.

Patti Smith at the Venice International Film Festival.
| Photo Credit: Getty Images

Writing about Patti Smith makes me nervous because her words carry remarkable grace and gravity that resist simple description. To attempt even a short review of her book feels audacious. She is a writer whose words come to life, whose observations shine with subtlety and ferocity all at once. To me, her life feels marked by wonder, loss, and an unwavering commitment to art.

Her new memoir, Bread of Angels, opens a door into her humble childhood in a post-World War era of poverty, imagination, and a discovery of herself. We see this shy but self-assured child grow into an unapologetic, brilliant artist, writer, performer, and beacon of world peace. Apart from artists such as Rimbaud who had a divine connection with her, she credits her parents for inspiring her. Her mother recognised her love for reading and art, and supported her with an endless supply of books, while her father taught her to question everything, which invariably became her mantra. She was very close to and protective of her three siblings, recounting many of their adventures together as children, whether it was standing up to bullies or relaxing on their green couch.

I thoroughly enjoyed a front row seat to her adventures in NYC, discovering herself as an artist flanked by loving and talented bandmates like Richard Sohl and Lenny Kaye, who were integral to developing their band’s sound, bringing the two worlds of rock and poetry together. I envied the ease with which she found a community that emboldened her art. This period of her life witnessed a flow of honest and brave music that we seldom hear these days.

Life of domesticity

One aspect of the book that I found difficult to reconcile with was her deep devotion to her husband Fred Smith, particularly in the context of her career. While she admits that she wanted to carve time for writing and that she didn’t see herself endlessly touring with her band, she did step away from a flourishing artistic life to follow her husband to Detroit. During this period, she dived into a life of domesticity and motherhood — choices that I hadn’t previously associated with her persona.

These choices of hers made my feminist instincts uncomfortable. I was questioning why it was Patti — a flourishing artist — who stepped away from her creative life to follow her husband, rather than the other way around. I struggled to understand her decision because I believe an artist’s work is not something one can easily set aside without consequence. And yet, Patti’s life, as life normally does, resists neat conclusions and ultimately, I respect that it was her truth. Her choices reminded me that devotion, feminism, art, and motherhood often exist in dissonance — and that each woman must ultimately negotiate that balance for herself.

Tsunamis of grief

The other aspect of the book that hit me hard was the tsunamis of grief she survived in her life, losing family and friends, some at a very early age. Through each painful ordeal, the love she had for her family, her honest art and curiosity for life, always shone through.

I think this book, and her other memoir Just Kids, is a must-read for everyone, whether you are an artist or not. That said, I would recommend any artist feeling lost to give this book a read. There are countless examples of her clarity for who she was as an artist that most of us would kill for. Whether it was pushing back against self-important label executives or being pressured to change her appearance for “commercial success”, we see Patti not hesitating to stand up for her artistic vision. My takeaway was that in today’s world, every artist is under pressure to be a circus monkey, but that we all have the agency to choose how our art will be presented even at the cost of losing some of this success. Arguably, not success in its true sense since you had to change your art to “fit in”.

I love that her prose does not perform — like her it has a quiet confidence that simply bears witness to all the magic around us.

The reviewer is an Indian indie artist whose music weaves indie pop with Indian classical roots.

Bread of Angels
Patti Smith
Bloomsbury
₹699


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