In the opening acknowledgements of his study of lost-generation autobiography, Craig Monk states, “I have come to the slow realization that I am a tremendously deliberate writer. I have tried to make every sentence of this book sing, though it remains to be seen whether its song is in tune, of course” (x). In doing so, Monk recognizes a creative duty, which many writers would find arduous to fulfil. If he fails to achieve this personal objective fully, it remains clear from the very beginnings of his work that Monk is a skilled commentator, who is able to allow the carefully selected passages from American expatriate autobiographies to sing, both alone and in unison.

Monk identifies the body of autobiographical work written by figures within, or in close proximity to, the Lost Generation as an area previously neglected by academic study. This, he suggests, is in part due to the comparative strength of the fiction produced by this body of writers. In his introduction, Monk demonstrates an acute awareness of the positive and negative aspects of autobiography as a literary genre, supported by a strong theoretical foundation. He proposes that life narratives of the period can be reread as critical acts as a means to further understanding of both the fiction of the Lost Generation and the creative environment in which it was produced. Monk goes on to provide detailed criticism of seventeen modern autobiographies, beginning with Alfred Kreymborg's Troubadour (1925), an account of bohemian life in Manhattan and Paris, before examining iconic figures such as Gertrude Stein and Ernest Hemingway, and more marginal writers such as Bravig Imbs.

Monk treats each autobiography as a fragment, and by means of careful assembly he succeeds in creating a vivid mosaic of the Lost Generation, juxtaposing memoirs with journalistic reportage. In doing so, he demonstrates the significant extent to which journalism shaped public impressions of expatriate life. The author's study of Jane Flanner's “Paris Letter,” published in the New Yorker throughout the 1920s and 1930s, alongside Sylvia Beach's Shakespeare and Company (1956), places a further emphasis on female accounts of the Lost Generation, an area which Monk admits was dominated by the male literary voice.

The key to Monk's success is the variety of autobiographical texts and perspectives examined: the breadth of his research is admirable. Writing the Lost Generation not only offers an important critical reassessment of a somewhat neglected area of American modernism, it also reinvigorates interest in forgotten writers of the era. Anecdotal accounts of pavement café brawls and expatriate vagabondage alone stimulate the reader's curiosity to seek out many of the texts examined. Furthermore, Monk provides fascinating insights on the impact of war on literature, and the manner in which location influences narratives of expatriation. A more considered conclusion is perhaps required from the author, yet many readers will excuse this given that in its entirety, Monk's study offers an important and unique addition to the body of work examining the Lost Generation.