Discovering the Brilliant Joan Didion for the First Time: Better Late Than Never

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ways support both your local library and your local independent bookstore) and checked out <i>We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live</i>, a mammoth collection that includes seven of her books of essays. I also picked up <i>The Last Love Song</i> by Tracy Daugherty, the critically acclaimed (and thus far only) biography of Didion.</p><p id="f9b0">What I found with the first essay I read (“John Wayne: A Love Song,” from <i>Slouching Towards Bethlehem</i>) is that Didion’s writing is both brilliant and addictive, two things that rarely go together this side of Bruce Springsteen; the second I read (“In the Islands,” from <i>The White Album)</i> only confirmed my initial impression. Though I had only intended to read one or two essays that first night, by the time I looked up it was past midnight and I had read seven. This is surely no shock to those who have been reading her for decades (perhaps even a few of you all the way back to that first Vogue article, “On Self-Respect” in 1961), but it surprised me.</p><p id="b125">The impact of those first few essays encouraged me to set the goal of reading through all of Didion’s published works, both fiction and nonfiction, over the next few months; I’m calling it my “Didion Spring,” and given the way world events have gone for the past two years, with no letup in sight, there may not be a more opportune time to visit (or revisit) the thoughts of this astute chronicler of every aspect of life in America and beyond. At various points I will certainly write some reviews of the novels and collections so many have written about before; since this will be my first reading of them, I will hopefully have something new to add to the discussion.</p><p id="4163">Whether you’ve never read Joan Didion’s work or are a longtime fan, I encourage you to join me on the journey. If you are also a writer, I can assure you that you will benefit from the experience, as she was a master with words, and readin

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g great writing always helps improve your own. If you are inspired to write about her as well, please use the tag “Didion Spring;” it will help us find each other.</p><p id="193d">One word of warning if you are someone who listens to audiobooks (as I am, especially at night): the audiobook version of <i>Slouching Towards Bethlehem</i> is nearly impossible to listen to for even a few minutes. The narrator is actress Diane Keaton, and as amazing as she is onscreen she is quite possibly the worst book narrator I have ever heard, from a flat, monotone reading of the text to numerous mispronunciations (she somehow renders “San Bernardino” as “San Berdino” multiple times). The publisher clearly assumed since it was Diane Keaton it would be fine to release this without listening to it first; they were wrong.</p><p id="b049">That disclaimer aside, I hope you’ll join me on this magical mystery tour through the works of Joan Didion. It’s a trip you’ll surely enjoy.</p><p id="3ac5"><i>If you enjoyed this story, you can support my writing directly by joining Medium <a href="https://paulcombs.medium.com/membership">here</a>. You’ll get access to all of my bookish articles (and also my weekly rants and numerous Springsteen stories) as well as those of all the other great writers here.</i></p><div id="fcab" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-literary-brat-pack-really-deserved-a-much-better-name-fd6d7d33f893"> <div> <div> <h2>The Literary Brat Pack Really Deserved a Much Better Name</h2> <div><h3>They defined literature for a generation and beyond</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*oj-Jz4h03NSRccADna8ZXg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

How did it take me this long?

Image Source: Netflix via The New Yorker

In my recent article “Ten Excellent Documentaries You Absolutely Need to Watch Now,” I included the 2017 Netflix film Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold. I was aware of Joan Didion’s place among the literary giants of the past century before I saw the film, a place widely discussed again following her death on December 23rd of last year at the age of 87. I knew that some of my favorite authors (Bret Easton Ellis among them) idolized her. Yet there was so much more I did not know.

I did not know of her interactions, both personally and professionally, with rock legends like Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison or film icons from Martin Scorsese to Harrison Ford (though she knew Ford well before he became an icon; prior to his breakout role in Star Wars, he worked as a carpenter at her house). I did not know that her brother-in-law was author Dominick Dunne or that actor Griffin Dunne (who produced the documentary) was her nephew. And I knew nothing of the family tragedies that resulted in her books The Year of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights.

Watching the documentary triggered a far more embarrassing realization as well: I have not read any of Didion’s fiction and only a few essays from her many collections. Determined to correct this unforgivable oversight, I went to my local library (always support both your local library and your local independent bookstore) and checked out We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live, a mammoth collection that includes seven of her books of essays. I also picked up The Last Love Song by Tracy Daugherty, the critically acclaimed (and thus far only) biography of Didion.

What I found with the first essay I read (“John Wayne: A Love Song,” from Slouching Towards Bethlehem) is that Didion’s writing is both brilliant and addictive, two things that rarely go together this side of Bruce Springsteen; the second I read (“In the Islands,” from The White Album) only confirmed my initial impression. Though I had only intended to read one or two essays that first night, by the time I looked up it was past midnight and I had read seven. This is surely no shock to those who have been reading her for decades (perhaps even a few of you all the way back to that first Vogue article, “On Self-Respect” in 1961), but it surprised me.

The impact of those first few essays encouraged me to set the goal of reading through all of Didion’s published works, both fiction and nonfiction, over the next few months; I’m calling it my “Didion Spring,” and given the way world events have gone for the past two years, with no letup in sight, there may not be a more opportune time to visit (or revisit) the thoughts of this astute chronicler of every aspect of life in America and beyond. At various points I will certainly write some reviews of the novels and collections so many have written about before; since this will be my first reading of them, I will hopefully have something new to add to the discussion.

Whether you’ve never read Joan Didion’s work or are a longtime fan, I encourage you to join me on the journey. If you are also a writer, I can assure you that you will benefit from the experience, as she was a master with words, and reading great writing always helps improve your own. If you are inspired to write about her as well, please use the tag “Didion Spring;” it will help us find each other.

One word of warning if you are someone who listens to audiobooks (as I am, especially at night): the audiobook version of Slouching Towards Bethlehem is nearly impossible to listen to for even a few minutes. The narrator is actress Diane Keaton, and as amazing as she is onscreen she is quite possibly the worst book narrator I have ever heard, from a flat, monotone reading of the text to numerous mispronunciations (she somehow renders “San Bernardino” as “San Berdino” multiple times). The publisher clearly assumed since it was Diane Keaton it would be fine to release this without listening to it first; they were wrong.

That disclaimer aside, I hope you’ll join me on this magical mystery tour through the works of Joan Didion. It’s a trip you’ll surely enjoy.

If you enjoyed this story, you can support my writing directly by joining Medium here. You’ll get access to all of my bookish articles (and also my weekly rants and numerous Springsteen stories) as well as those of all the other great writers here.