I almost did it, but I just got so sick of Stein’s ego, that I had to stop. I looked at the pictures and the last page where the Stein said that the book was a love story (to herself) and that even though Alice didn’t hold the pen (I don’t think Alice was in the building) it shouldn’t really matter. Or something like that. Well, I hate to tell the her, but she’s dead wrong. When you tell readers a book is about Alice B. Toklas but it’s clearly NOT, it does matter. I do not like Gertrude Stein. I would never want to read another book about her, so it mattered to me. I Stein writes about herself, period. She does say, on the very last page, that without Alice, no thing (that’s the way she wrote it) would have happened. So, Alice got a few sentences in the back. The rest was about Stein herself.
It’s not a well written book and, as I said before, she constantly prints her own first and last name over and over again. Every person she writes about has something nice to say about her, or else she stops seeing them. If people don’t “amuse” her, she just ignores them. Those she mentions have no depth at all and if they don’t serve a purpose, she doesn’t want to meet them. What an icky woman. She was definitely the center of her own universe.
I can’t believe how beautifully made this book is and how awful the story is. It’s just one huge ego trip for Stein, written by HERSELF, since that’s the only person she was ever really in love with.