What we love about Didion, I think, is the strength of a voice that finds fertile ground in the machinations of history. And so if there is a beauty in reading Didion on Didion, there should, if patterns of human behavior are any indication, be more beauty in reading Didion on us. The answer may lie in what happened after her grieving memoir The Year of Magical Thinking was published in and Didion became a household name on top of just being a legend of literary journalism. What happened was tantamount to an exorcism; where almost a half century of political writing, cultural criticism, and fiction were suddenly supplanted by a single record of devastating personal experience. It is not surprising that we found that work moving.
Joan Didion's 'Let Me Tell You What I Mean' shows a writer ahead of her time | Datebook
Happy 79th Birthday, Joan Didion! As any longtime female fan of the iconic essayist, journalist and novelist will tell you, Didion's writing is as essential to a woman's literary education as Beverly Cleary, Virginia Woolf, bell hooks and Sylvia Plath are each in her unique way, of course. The Gospel According to Didion inspires special devotion in women under 40, as many of Didion's most beloved personal essays and journalistic work concern her time in New York and California in her late 20s and early 30s. Whether she's describing Joan Baez's quirks or her own neuroses, Didion's prose is always resonant and, for many, addictively vivid.
Please join StudyMode to read the full document. Coming Home Again Do your parents still live in the same house you grew up in? Does a family value still thrive in your generation?
She wrote it not to a word count or a line count, but to an exact character count. Once, in a dry season, I wrote in large letters across two pages of a notebook that innocence ends when one is stripped of the delusion that one likes oneself. Although now, some years later, I marvel that a mind on the outs with itself should have nonetheless made painstaking record of its every tremor, I recall with embarrassing clarity the flavor of those particular ashes. It was a matter of misplaced self-respect. I had not been elected to Phi Beta Kappa.