A book that is going to cause some annoyance and much discussion.
Is Alice B. Toklas a real person? Yes, she is, very much so,
secretary and companion and close friend of Certrude Stein for many
years. Why the title? Because Alice Toklas was always threatening
to write her autobiography, which, Gertrude Stein knew, would in
essence be her biography, based on a close intimacy. When the
writing was postponed repeatedly, Gertrude Stein announced that she
would do it herself. This is the result. This the title. Explain it
to your customers if you can. The text is really Gertrude Stein's
autobiography, though it gives a delightful background of Alice
Toklas, a background of sympathy, cooperation, friendship, and life
made up of little things such as cooking and sewing, and making the
wheels go round. As a biography of Gertrude it is fascinating. One
gots a vivid swift picture of a childhood in Allegheny,
Pennsylvania, and in Europe; of college days at Radcliffe and at
Johns Hopkins studying medicine. After 1907 she lived with her
brother in Paris and one meets Piccasso, Matisse, Juan Cris - the
moderns who were trying to make the world see what they saw. And
there were many from the writing world, too, Sherwood Anderson, Van
Vechten and others. She was always writing, always worried because
the world did not understand her. So lucid and sympathetic a study
is this, that one feels one could go back to her writings and
understand them now. There is no affectation here, none of the
stream of consciousness method. Intensely interesting, and should
have more than a moderate sale. (Kirkus Reviews)
For Gertrude Stein and her companion Alice B. Toklas, life in Paris was based upon the rue de Fleurus and the Saturday evenings and ‘it was like a kaleidoscope slowly turning’. Picasso was there with ‘his high whinnying spanish giggle’, as were Cezanne and Matisse, Hemingway and Fitzgerald. As Toklas put it – ‘The geniuses came and talked to Gertrude Stein and the wives sat with me’. A light-hearted entertainment, this is in fact Gertrude Stein’s own autobiography and a roll-call of all the extraordinary painters and writers she met between 1903 and 1932. Audacious, sardonic and characteristically self-confident, this is a definitive account by the American in Paris.
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