LAST BOHEMIAN

In her nonfiction debut, Rosenstein tells the story of the painter, writer, and raconteur Jonathan David Batchelor (1913-2003).

The book opens with a house fire in Canyon, California, which destroyed the author’s home, which she’d shared with Batchelor for 18 years, and much of his archive of letters and handwritten journals. It work then backtracks to explore the artist’s childhood relationship with his outgoing father and mentally ill mother. It goes on to cover his years working for the Works Progress Administration and making a home for himself in California, where he had strong relationships with a varied collection of creative friends. Readers are introduced to Batchelor’s wife, Dorothy, and their domestic life, which was shaken by an extramarital affair with a library-science graduate who “sought avant-garde circles, poetry readings, and art shows.” As Rosenstein writes, “How can any woman resist this flamboyant, red-haired illustrator who gazed attentively and held onto her every word?” Her account also limns the artistic side of Batchelor’s life, from informal gatherings of the Endymion Society salon, which he founded, to his artwork, which included portraits and landscapes in an array of media, including oils and pastels. Rosenstein, the artist’s partner in his later years, writes with such self-effacing good humor throughout that readers will share its emotional warmth. In her telling, Batchelor is a larger-than-life figure who commanded both the affection and the attention of everybody around him, herself included: “In all my eighteen years with Jonathan,” she writes, “I gratefully lived in his shadow and allowed, with acknowledged relief, for him to take the helm in both our lives.” However, the book’s presentation often feels amateurish, with incorrect pagination, and odd text breaks. Batchelor’s artwork is beautifully reprinted throughout, and although the prose can feel overwrought at times, its upbeat tone often overcomes its shortcomings: “Despite mood swings, he was determined to make the best of it,” she writes of Batchelor, “and in a nutshell that summarizes him.”

An affectionate account of a compelling artist, hampered by awkward execution.