Review
Essays, going back to the late Sixties, when nothing was adding up any more for Joan Didion: the "script" had been changed to no script at all; betrayed by the old rules and promises, Didion "began to doubt the premises of all the stories I had ever told myself." As anxiety closes in, she continues to record elements of the California Scene (Huey Newton, Linda Kasabian, Jim Morrison), but writing doesn't help her to find a structure, a new "narrative." Thus, The White Album, borrowing from the Beatles' famous blank record-jacket. The patchwork title essay (1968-78) introduces the anguish with which so much of this is freighted, echoing the confessional last entry (dated 1967) in Slouching Toward Bethlehem (1968). But now the voice is more compulsive and not so fresh. For all her stripping, Didion surrenders only abstractions: from an article on Hawaii - "l want you to understand exactly what you are getting here: you are getting a woman who for some time now has felt radically separated from most of the ideas that seem to interest other people." Or she offers other people's words - her psychiatrist's report, her neurologist's ("The name was multiple sclerosis, but the name had no meaning"). When she leaves herself at home, however, Didion's capacity for sustained serious thought comes to the fore - here in a critical piece on Doris Lessing and in a review, heavy on her familiar irony, of the women's movement as a phony proletarian revolution. And her throwaway aperCus still click, instantly: the imperial tract-house that Reagan built and Jerry Brown wants no part of has "only enough bookshelves for a set of the World Book and some Books of the Month, plus maybe three Royal Doulton figurines." Didion's evocative knack eases the burden of her suffering, at least for the rest of us. (Kirkus Reviews)
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Review
"All of the essays manifest not only [Didion's] intelligence but an instinct for details that continue to emit pulsations in the reader's memory and a style that is spare, subtly musical in its phrasing and exact. Add to these her highly vulnerable sense of herself, and the result is a voice like no other in contemporary journalism."--Robert Towers, The New York Times Book Review
"Didion manges to make the sorry stuff of troubled times (bike movies, for instance, and Bishop James Pike) as interesting and suggestive as the monuments that win her dazzled admiration (Georgia O'Keeffe, the Hoover Dam, the mountains around Bogota) . . . A timely and elegant collection."--The New Yorker
"Didion is an original journalistic talent who can strike at the heart, or the absurdity, of a matter in our contemporary wasteland with quick, graceful strokes."--The San Francisco Chronicle
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