M Train begins in the tiny Greenwich Village café where Smith goes every morning for black coffee, ruminates on the world as it is and the world as it was, and writes in her notebook. Through prose that shifts fluidly between dreams and reality, past and present, we travel to Frida Kahlo's Casa Azul in Mexico; to the fertile moon terrain of Iceland; to a ramshackle seaside bungalow in New York's Far Rockaway that Smith acquires just before Hurricane Sandy hits; to the West 4th Street subway station, filled with the sounds of the Velvet Underground after the death of Lou Reed; and to the graves of Genet, Plath, Rimbaud, and Mishima. Woven throughout are reflections on the writer's craft and on artistic creation. Here, too, are singular memories of Smith's life in Michigan and the irremediable loss of her husband, Fred Sonic Smith. Braiding despair with hope and consolation, illustrated with her signature Polaroids, M Train is a meditation on travel, detective shows, literature, and coffee. It is a powerful, deeply moving book by one of the most remarkable multiplatform artists at work today.
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I read this and don't think I'll ever be the same. This book is one that I'm glad I waited so long to read. Back when I worked in a bookstore in 2015, I remember selling countless copies of this one and wondering why it was such a hit. For one, I wasn't as into music back then, so I didn't understand Patti Smith's cultural impact. But I think it wasn't for my age at that time. It's a book that I want to revisit in each decade of my life to see which bits stick out to me on my next reread. It's also one of the only books I've finished and seriously considered immediately restarting because it was just that good. It felt like a comforting cup of coffee. It's not easy writing about nothing, and Patti Smith does it so, so well.
"Don't go. Don't grow." UGH I love her.