don't waste your time
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This book was way too long.... about 250 pages way too long in fact. I don't quite know what a reader is supposed to surmise from it. For a seemingly intelligent woman the author showed a remarkable lack of insight into the nature and existence of life and its end result. So caught up in the smallest detail (to a boringly obsessive degree in fact) the bigger picture was totally lost on her. I found it totally unmoving.
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Life-affirming
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Although the idea behind the book may sound a bit maudlin and miserable Didion is so lacking in self-pity and writes so eloquently and intelligently about the state of grief that it is anything but - if anything it is life-affirming. She has such dignity. Definitely worth a read, whether or not you are grieving yourself.
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The Year of Magical Thinking
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What a waste of time. I found this book very frustrating to read and I couldn't wait to finish it. Why did it win an award I have no idea.
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It looked so good...
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When I am unsure of a book, i tend to read the first page. This one grabbed me, so I bought it. several chapters in to this book, I began to get frustrated with it. I understand that grief is an enormous thing to go through - life-changing. The writer came across as aloof, and elitist - interfering with doctors when her daughter was ill (just because you about something does not make you an expert), always in a hotel or restaurant... (she began to annoy me with these constant references throughout the book. I couldn't wait to finish it and go and buy something else)
I'm sorry to say the book did little for me at all. I liked the way that she wrote in her thought patterns, but otherwise i think it was medicinal rambling that happened to be published. If my diaries when I had depression had been published many would say the same. I don't think this was meant to be seen - maybe a last-choice decision. However if it was intended to be seen then this isn't the read I would have expected.
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The Year of Incoherent Privileged Thinking
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Presumably, people will come to this book for one of three reasons: (A) They are looking for insight into grief and the process of mourning. (B) They are Joan Didion fans. (C) They've read one of the glowing reviews, or otherwise heard the "buzz" about this National Book Award winner. Addressing these in reverse order: (C) the "buzz" strikes me as literati rewarding one of their own for subpar performance. (B) I've never read Didion, but I have to believe she's capable of much better than this. (A) there's nothing to be learned here about grief -- which may be the point. At one point Didion writes that the grief of losing a loved one is by its very nature, unknowable. In keeping with this pronouncement, the reader will learn little about grief other than it is a vast void or emptiness and meaninglessness that can make one literally insane.
As if to prove this last point, Didion writes about losing her husband of forty years to a sudden heart attack as they are sitting down to dinner in about as distanced and unconnected a manner as possible. It's almost as if she set out to write the anti-grief memoir, because she doesn't portray herself as a particularly empathetic person. Which is fine, I'm not looking for warm fuzzies or solace, just a little coherence. And unfortunately, it's in very short supply -- the book reads like the scattered thoughts of a journal, and perhaps that the stage it should have been left at. But by allowing its publication, Didion achieves the formidable task of portraying herself as a woman who has lost both husband and daughter, and yet is totally unsympathetic.
Aside from the content, which is a mix of medical reportage, quoting from studies on grief, ruminations on her past, snippets of poetry and prose, the book is marred by a very problematic tone. There's a very distinct elitist thread running throughout the book, and it's hard to understand why Didion would have written it that way. Her reflections on her married life contain innumerable references to a highly privileged lifestyle (staying for weeks at the Beverly Wiltshire, flying from LA to SF for dinner, buying clothes at fancy boutiques, eating at the toniest restaurants, homemade dinners with the literati, etc.). On top of this, in detailing her struggle to understand her husband's death and daughter's coma, she alludes to her special access to doctors, private jets, clinics, etc. beyond the means of "regular" folks. It's hard to imagine that "regular" Didion wouldn't recognize the impression she was creating, but since the book was written and published whilst still in deep grief, perhaps she didn't.
Yes, it's sad that she lost her husband and collaborator, but there's something very distancing in her account of it all. And it's hard not to feel slightly manipulated when a good way into the book you learn that her husband had a history of heart trouble and wore a pacemaker, making his coronary somewhat less dramatic than her telling of it. Even more telling is the deliberate omission of his age anywhere in the book -- 71. Since it's not exactly shocking for someone of that age and medical background to drop dead, these kinds of decisions have the appearance of being made in order to foster more sympathy for Didion. Yet another problematic area relates to her daughter's case, which is treated in great detail throughout and simply vanishes at the end of the book. Her daughter died while the book was still in production and according to reports, Didion chose not to make any revisions to reflect this.
No doubt I am being churlish to some degree for criticizing Didion's portrayal of her experience. It's her life, her tragedy, and she certainly has every right to represent it however she would like to. However, placing it in the commercial realm makes it subject to comment, and my own feeling is that its simply not a very good book. That said, there are glimpses here and there of sharp writing and analysis which makes me think I might like one of her past collections of essays. Still, I can't imagine anyone going through the loss of a loved one would find this book helpful or illuminating in any way.
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