I’ve not been reading much, but I did finish The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. It is really a fine example of a memoir; I am glad I read it. As you know by now, I don’t really review books, I just write down what I think; sometimes notes, sometimes general musings, sometimes more, and sometimes less, related to the major themes of the book.
The opening lines, oft repeated, stay in my mind:
Life changes fast.
Life Changes in an instant.
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
The book was touching and beautifully written, gripping, even though one knows the outcome. Of course I usually know the outcome having been long been of the habit of reading the endings of books before the beginnings. If knowing the outcome ruins the book, it probably was not worth reading to begin with.
I keep thinking about grief and Didion’s thoughts and words on grief, especially her references to written books or writing about grief and the grieving. I was especially struck by her comments about how we, as a culture, increasingly hide or suppress grief and hide death and grieving away, as if by ignoring it we can pretend it does not exist. Although we all do this, try to put on the strong public face, there is something somewhat chilling about a culture that celebrates those who can go on in the face of tragedy as if nothing had happened. We cannot escape the realities of life, no matter how technologically and socially advanced we become. I am not sure this denial of the reality of grief and grieving, of death itself, and of the inherent tragedy that marks so much of life, really helps us any. Instead, like anyone in a state of denial, our suppression of this whole darker side of existence, makes us more vulnerable and less resilient.