...[an] engaging memoir, in which the reader is invited to walk through perceptual and conceptual walls with her. It is a wry invitation to trace how such themes have been a preoccupation over five decades of groundbreaking performance art ... the early childhood chapters in the memoir that are the most interesting and, in a sense, the book’s centre of gravity ... although Abramovi? is famous and highly visible, she is aware that her investigation into all the dimensions of presence requires the absence of her own ego. The act of writing a memoir as enjoyable as Walk Through Walls allows her to play with this paradox.
Abramovi?’s memoir doesn’t reconcile these seemingly different versions of her, but it gives insight into why they can’t be reconciled ... The book is undeniably self-absorbed...Yet the memoir is frank and frequently endearing, Abramovi?’s humor keeping her romanticism in check ... For those familiar with her work’s history, [the] lack of context might frustrate. This book is written for people interested in Abramovi? alone, not performance art more generally. Near the end, her chronicle of projects becomes almost exhausting, for her and the reader.
Abramovic’s narrative is most compelling when she writes about her childhood ... Her memoir reveals a chaotic and fractured psyche, and, unfortunately, some of her New Age digressions border on incoherent. In some ways her writing style mirrors her performance pieces; the reader feels like a victim to the force of her blunt trauma ... One senses she has difficulty considering the needs of anybody else; she is mercilessly self-involved. The insights and reevaluations we look for in a thoughtful memoir simply aren’t present ... one can’t help but sadly recognize that the more optimistic part of her spirit has surrendered to the enveloping darkness.
