This past August, my friend Kathy was watching a Joan Didion documentary and texted me that she hoped I was watching it, too. I immediately did so, not only because I’ve read and appreciated Joan Didion, but because she evokes a time in our lives when Kathy and I were devouring and recommending fiction written by women about women, about anything, really, possibly because so many of our favorite writers, as emphasized in academia, were male. We were young women full of questions and experiences and we wanted context and voice for all of that.
I’m so glad I watched the documentary, and it reminded me there are more books by Didion I hope to read one day when I’m reading again.
I was sad to hear today of Joan Didion’s death on Wednesday. I’m grateful that her voice endures in both fiction and non-fiction.
A young writer I know via Instagram posted this photo she made and let me use.
I hadn’t even heard of her until she died -but now I have, I will read her.
There are two memoirs of hers that I haven’t read: The Year of Magical Thinking which followed the death of her husband, and Blue Nights which she wrote after the death of her daughter. I’ve had too many losses the past few years and have avoided books on grief. But if anyone can have an experience and write about it in an eloquent and meaningful way, it’s Joan Didion. I think it’s time for me to read them.
Becky,
Thank you so much for the wonderful birthday card. I wish I had been there with you. I cannot think of a better birthday gift than cupcakes and being with people I love. Maybe another birthday. You are always so thoughtful. Thank you for being so kind to me.
Love you always,
Lisa
You are always in my heart, and one day we’ll see each other and talk and laugh and catch up and reminisce again. I love you. <3