I’m trying to read more books written by women and since I’ve read The Velvet Underground’s story recently it was time for Nico’s biography. She wrote hauntingly dark songs and gave the world a couple of Gothic masterpieces, but is mostly remembered for being the beautiful partner of famous men.
I thought the author was a bit too apologetic of Nico’s worst tantrums, but perhaps it was the necessary tone to clear up some of the sexist cliches that have circulated about her for decades.
The ages old question with controversial figures is always: Can you separate the art from the artist? And in the case of Nico, whose album The Marble Index got me through hard times before I learned anything about the awful things she did, I can.
At the same time it’s hard not to sympathize with an artist whose life was plagued with struggles such as growing up in post-war Germany, being a rape victim, losing custody of her son, eating disorders and drug addiction, to name a few. What a tragic life. After putting this book down I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad, but then I watched her perform “Secret Side” and I felt better.
Maybe it’s time to take a break from biographies and read a classic novel. Hard to choose between Mrs. Dolloway by Virginia Woolf or The Bell Jar by Silvia Plath…
