I jotted down some rambling thoughts in response to Joan Didion’s Play It as It Lays when I finished the novel in September 2023.
Now, I’m revealing those loose ends; and this time, I ain’t tying them.
Like it or not, here goes “nothing”:
One thing in my defense, not that it matters: I know something Carter never knew, or Helene, or maybe you. I know what ‘nothing’ means, and keep on playing.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
The Gambler
Something Kenny Rodgers and Joan Didion might agree on: Know when to walk away. Know when to run.
Once the deal is done, once the money’s gone, what’s left?
Don’t kid yourself. The cards are on the table. Everyone’s shifty, and hard to read, and so are you, even with nothing up your sleeve.
This isn’t about earnestness, or honesty.
Winning is a matter of keeping your eyes peeled and your secrets close to the chest. Losing is a fact of life; death starts in your head.
There was silence. Something real was happening: this was, as it were, her life. If she could keep that in mind she would be able to play it through, do the right thing, whatever that meant.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
The Downer
A man and a woman walk into a bar. Both are depressed. The bartender’s also their therapist.
Turns out men are more likely to end it. How does that make you feel?
Why, BZ would say.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
Why not, I say.
Why do we stay in toxic dynamics?
Maybe the lonesome self unveils too many questions; too real of a responsibility.
Perhaps it’s less scary to feel fear than it is to feel free.
She knew all the indices to the idle lonely, never bought a small tube of toothpaste, never dropped a magazine in her shopping cart.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
When something’s off, when someone we love hurts us, why’s it often so hard to simply explain what’s wrong?
Shut up unless you’ve something funny to add. Stare out windows, searching for the soul that escaped the faces’ fate.
The punch line’s a black eye.
An under- ground nuclear device was detonated where Silver Wells had once been, and Maria got up before dawn to feel the blast. She felt nothing.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
Notice the super star surrounded by lovers and friends who don’t even have her best interest at heart.
Notice the so-called artists, actors, blue movie directors who don’t give a shit about “story”.
Everything goes. I am working very hard at not thinking about how everything goes.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
To what are you dedicated? Nothing?
In the desert, your spouse sleeps with another pretty celebrity. So?
Shoot at sign posts with a fully loaded prop gun.
Spend two weeks in Vegas becoming nothing.
When someone’s sick and desperate, hold their hand. Other than that, give them nothing.
Struggle to eat in a diner across from nowhere. Deteriorate.
In bed, after sex, turn your body away.
Your daughter is in a cave, screaming.
What can you do? Nothing.
I am what I am. To look for reasons is beside the point.
Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays (1970)
Meche
P.S. For a more coherent Didion-inspired essay, check out my response to The Last Thing He Wanted (1996).
12/08/25