EDIE

Last night I finished reading Edie: An American Biography, by Jean Stein and George Plimpton. This is a book that I purchased two years ago at an estate sale. I'll readily admit I judged by the cover. And under the well-designed, but, OK, rather South Beach-style cover was a beautifully bound book, with a linen-covered spine and the title EDIE embossed across the front cover and highlighted in pastel colors. The back cover was embossed with the Borzoi Books stamp. It looked and felt a treasure more so than intrigued as a story. It was published in 1982 and tells the story of Edie Sedgwick through anecdotes told by people who knew her: family, friends, other Factory denizens. It took a while to get used to the story telling style, and the first few chapters go into great and often boring detail about Edie's family background (rich, blue-blood, socialites, preppies, blah, blah, blah). But, the story took hold, most likely because I've been doing a lot of culture mining in the early 60s, what with all the Mad Men watching, Bob Dylan listening, Andy Warhol documentary viewing. And, tonight, I finally saw the movie Adventureland, probably most famous for being a Kristen Stewart (you, know Twilight) film. The movie has many virtues, and is set in the late 80s not the 60s, but its soundtrack includes songs by The Velvet Underground and Lou Reed, and part of a sub plot revolves around talk of Lou Reed. The soundtrack features Pale Blue Eyes, twice. Hearing Lou softly sing "linger on your pale blue eyes" made me cry. Yes, I wept. I cried a little because it reminded me of a sweet friend who once put that song on a compilation tape for me back in college. But, mostly it made me think of Edie, who was virtually thrown away by her fine family and by Andy Warhol. She was a wreck, according to the book. She must have become a bore and a drag, with her drug use and her profligate spending. But, she was smart, generous and, often, fabulous, so say many of the book's quoted contributors. And, she was young and most likely very, very naive as well as mentally ill. The book documents very intimately how wealth and beauty and education and fame mean little when grief and emotional fragility mix with narcotics. You know, the cliche, about judging a book by its cover.