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Parisian Lives
Nostalgic yet psychologically acute, 'Parisian Lives' chronicles the strange interconnections between Sir Arthur Lyly's career as a painter and his increasingly dangerous and desperate loves- for a Chicago gangster, a disturbed British sailor, a young Parisian tough, and a Spanish peasant boy.
215 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1984
81 people want to read
About the author
Samuel M. Steward
18 books15 followersAlso published under the pseudonym Phil Andros,
Sam M. Steward.
Sam M. Steward.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
July 16, 2015
Excellent, and unjustly forgotten. With its crystalline prose rendering gleefully raunchy queer hijinks during a storied moment in history, think of something akin to A Moveable Feast penned by Jean Genet, even if that doesn't at all get to the wonderful singularity of Steward's fictionalized memoir.
October 26, 2011
Sam Steward a.k.a. Johnny Mac Andrews creates a fictionalised account of inter-war lives in Paris and a not so gay, gay underworld. His main character apart from himself is Sir Arthur Lyly, a painter, friend of Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas and incurable seeker after dangerous emotions. Sir Arthur is no doubt fictional but probably comprises traits of a number of real characters Steward met on his trips to Paris in the thirties and some of the other characters also reappear in different form in other novels, like André the sadistic thug who has a clear 'brother' in the 'flic' in the later novel 'The Caravaggio Shawl'. Interestingly, in the latter book the flic gives Steward's alter ego the benefit of his treatment while here it is Sir Arthur who seeks the raw emotions of being beaten up and f...ed. Steward's writing is clear sighted and the story of the artist who, seeks ever stronger emotions and through them destroys the objects of his desire, is credible even if I find Sir Arthur not likeable at all. Steward doesn't pretend he is and neither does anyone else in the story least of all the deadly Miss Toklas who Steward is tone perfect at portraying and whose sharp insight could puncture an armoured tank. Beyond the pleasure of having found another of the elusive Mr Steward's literary works, I have to admit the best parts of the book for me are the ones with the inimitable Gertrude Stein and the terrifying Alice Toklas. Ms Toklas was the secretary/companion of Stein and as such supposedly the second fiddle. What comes out in Parisian Lives more than in the other two novels I have read where these two appear, is the reason just why such a towering character as Stein would be with Toklas - because she could hold her own with Gertrude any time and then some! So ... Parisian Lives is a very worthwhile read; highly intelligent and revealing about what it meant to be gay in the pre-WW II States and Paris; brilliant in the portrayals of real and other characters; unflinching as Gertrude would have wished of human weaknesses and foibles; but finally not as much intelligent fun as the two 'Whodunnits' (Caravaggio Shawl & Murder is Murders is) and, despite a lot of things going on, obviously nowhere near as raunchy as any of the 'Phil Andros' offerings. It's probably a bit unlucky I should have read that just before 'Bitter Eden' which grabbed my be the soul-strings and overshadowed a bit of the pleasure I had reading Steward on Paris and Stein & Co.
October 16, 2019
A tale at once dark and brooding and introspective but also socially conscious, Samuel Steward's autobiographical novel is a story that poses questions about the life and times of gay men in a pre-Stonewall 20th century.
Following the life of the narrator, a burgeoning academic with connections to Gertrude Stein, Alice Toklas, and James Purdy, "Parisian Lives" tells the story of an uncanny friendship between the narrator - who is certainly Steward fictionally incarnate - and his friend Arthur. Arthur, a dark figure who, in the search of fulfillment of his own deep pleasures tends to use and throw away the men and boys he encounters, is a character who begs so many questions and leaves readers truly wondering what gay happiness might look like in the early 20th century.
If nothing else, this groundbreaking memoir represents an attempt to think about what forms of happiness are available to gay men when any form of connection or relationship is temporary because of the social conditions that prevent such relationships from ever being permanent. This question alone - and the answer the book tries to provide - is reason enough for you to find a used copy and get down to reading.
Following the life of the narrator, a burgeoning academic with connections to Gertrude Stein, Alice Toklas, and James Purdy, "Parisian Lives" tells the story of an uncanny friendship between the narrator - who is certainly Steward fictionally incarnate - and his friend Arthur. Arthur, a dark figure who, in the search of fulfillment of his own deep pleasures tends to use and throw away the men and boys he encounters, is a character who begs so many questions and leaves readers truly wondering what gay happiness might look like in the early 20th century.
If nothing else, this groundbreaking memoir represents an attempt to think about what forms of happiness are available to gay men when any form of connection or relationship is temporary because of the social conditions that prevent such relationships from ever being permanent. This question alone - and the answer the book tries to provide - is reason enough for you to find a used copy and get down to reading.
December 16, 2020
Word for word, maybe my favorite writer?
Steward's use of color, on Paris skies in the spring: "And the early twilights brought a soft gray golden blueness to the worn faces of the buildings, a blue in which small motes of silver seemed suspended."
Steward on movement: "You saw the muscles in their excited and tremulous interplay as the sweater came off his arms - the way they called to each other in a chain of action that flowed swiftly across his chest and caught echo patterns in his arms."
And the exquisite tension at the level of the sentence, little interjections like "the stolen sketchbooks (which he made me steal)" acting as a poetic thesis for the dearness of what we are about to read. Steward writes about the sublimity of pain as an acolyte of S&M, as invested in humiliating Mac's friend Arthur as Mac's painful jealousy of Arthur's repeated romantic, ah, successes.
When I got to THAT moment, oh, how I laughed.
Steward's use of color, on Paris skies in the spring: "And the early twilights brought a soft gray golden blueness to the worn faces of the buildings, a blue in which small motes of silver seemed suspended."
Steward on movement: "You saw the muscles in their excited and tremulous interplay as the sweater came off his arms - the way they called to each other in a chain of action that flowed swiftly across his chest and caught echo patterns in his arms."
And the exquisite tension at the level of the sentence, little interjections like "the stolen sketchbooks (which he made me steal)" acting as a poetic thesis for the dearness of what we are about to read. Steward writes about the sublimity of pain as an acolyte of S&M, as invested in humiliating Mac's friend Arthur as Mac's painful jealousy of Arthur's repeated romantic, ah, successes.
When I got to THAT moment, oh, how I laughed.
May 9, 2025
Interesting reconstruction of pre-WW2 gay Paris, with enough name-dropping and details to make it feel authentic, though from a quick google search some of the details are incorrect (it seems Cocteau’s Orphee was a work of the 40s, so the narrator couldn’t have seen it in the 30s).
I enjoyed part of the novel, but the central concept — sir Arthur Lily’s forcing himself into a string of dysfunctional and violent affairs in order to feed his artistic inspiration — struck me as contrived. Perhaps if it had been conveyed subtly, rather than explained, it would’ve been different.
My main complaint, however, is that the narrator’s perspective tends to fluctuate in ways that I didn’t find convincing. He’s supposed to have self-consciously cultivated a kind of nonjudgmental open-mindedness, but it doesn’t serve him very well. He hasn’t so much rid himself of moral judgement as managed to distort its use. He retains a kind of basic potential for sympathy, but he activates it intermittently. He often gives in to discreditable feelings without a struggle, or without even signalling his awareness that he could at least try. He never looks back critically at such moments, only ever matter-of-factly, as if he couldn’t possibly hold himself to somewhat higher standards... If all this were intended by the author, I suppose the novel would be successful. But I suspect that we are meant to broadly sympathise with the perspective of the narrative voice, which I generally didn’t find myself able to do.
There are some passages where the writing style suddenly switches register through the use of beautifully poetic imagery.
I enjoyed part of the novel, but the central concept — sir Arthur Lily’s forcing himself into a string of dysfunctional and violent affairs in order to feed his artistic inspiration — struck me as contrived. Perhaps if it had been conveyed subtly, rather than explained, it would’ve been different.
My main complaint, however, is that the narrator’s perspective tends to fluctuate in ways that I didn’t find convincing. He’s supposed to have self-consciously cultivated a kind of nonjudgmental open-mindedness, but it doesn’t serve him very well. He hasn’t so much rid himself of moral judgement as managed to distort its use. He retains a kind of basic potential for sympathy, but he activates it intermittently. He often gives in to discreditable feelings without a struggle, or without even signalling his awareness that he could at least try. He never looks back critically at such moments, only ever matter-of-factly, as if he couldn’t possibly hold himself to somewhat higher standards... If all this were intended by the author, I suppose the novel would be successful. But I suspect that we are meant to broadly sympathise with the perspective of the narrative voice, which I generally didn’t find myself able to do.
There are some passages where the writing style suddenly switches register through the use of beautifully poetic imagery.
November 25, 2019
This is great fun after Steward's biography. Lots of Gertrude Stein, Alice Toklas, and supposedly Francis Rose (here renamed Arthur Lyly), and the latter's poor life/love choices. Steward's elegant prose is a pleasure, especially when he goes over the top:
Uh huh. And later:
More on Francis Rose:
https://www.nickharvilllibraries.com/...
Those who have beauty have a definite obligation to the rest of us. They should share it with all the world, not with just one woman or one man. They are the temporary trustees of a treasure that should be divided with the less fortunate. Their bodies should be caressed and adored for the brief years that beauty stays, but alas! how little they realize their obligations during the golden time.
Uh huh. And later:
... a friend had once said that no one had ever really lived until he had seen the full moon in the Colosseum shining through the hairy legs of a young sergeant.
More on Francis Rose:
https://www.nickharvilllibraries.com/...
May 5, 2020
One of the most underrated books I’ve ever come across. Steward’s prose is rich and lyrical, and provides a fantastic portrait of the 1930s Paris gay scene. Many of his observations about love in a time of policing and social ostracization uncannily apply to today’s gay scene. Perhaps things haven’t changed as much as we’d like to think.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews