This is my first time writing about Joan Didion (1934-2021). After years deliberately in the dark, I am barely now grasping why she is so highly regarded. Why young writers revere her image – grayscale, sharp and cool, tipping a cigarette – with the utmost respect.
When I found out about Joan Didion’s passing, I felt regret for not being at all familiar with her work. My interest was planted by the poster above my former roommate’s desk, in 2018, the same year a teacher told me to read The Last Thing He Wanted.
Why She Writes
Everything I am learning about Joan Didion is new to me. But perhaps you recall her 1975 speech at UC Berkeley to a room full of devoted students and budding writers. This renowned lecture was titled “Why I Write“.
I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.
Listen to me, see it my way, change your mind.
Joan Didion, “Why I Write” (1976)
She asserts that writing is an aggressive and hostile act, because its rhetoric penetrates the reader’s thoughts. In my opinion, writing is not inherently violent, but it does have force. It takes over the mind, infiltrates it somehow, yet this is typically consensual.
How do I mask the aggression in my writing? I suppose by ensuring it is easy to read; a seamless and enjoyable experience for the eyes and mind. How crucial is it to be gentle, caring, and inviting? How do I feel about potentially being seen as “a secret bully” who imposes my perspective on your “most intimate space”?
It’s a delight to be here, a voice in your head, that I can guarantee… Thank you for having faith in me. I’m also curious, when and why do you write?
Writing Memory
I admire how Didion portrays memory, unable to shake off certain images. She elaborates on these mental pictures, transforming them into stories in her quest to comprehend them.
In college, my perception of memory changed drastically after listening to writing professors talk about the importance of noticing and absorbing odd or intriguing details in our surroundings. Their point was that inspiration can come from unexpected places, so it’s crucial to stay alert. This approach made me worry about not being observant enough. Should I be hyper-vigilant?
What is going on in these pictures in my mind?
Joan Didion, “Why I Write” (1976)
Now, inspired by Didion, I am learning to place my attention on the periphery, focusing on what is within my control. What specific information captivates me? Why do some details stick to my mind like magnets while others fade away unnoticed?
The Picture Revealed
Grammar is a piano I play by ear, since I seem to have been out of school the year the rules were mentioned.
Joan Didion, “Why I Write” (1976)
The significance of organization is a concept that captivates me. Even now, I find myself deeply engrossed in it. Why do I dedicate hours to rearranging, deleting, rephrasing, and expanding? To me, crafting a piece of writing is akin to meticulously arranging furniture in a room. I invest hours in adjusting and fine-tuning until the “flow” of the space feels just right.
During my Intermediate Poetry studies, I discovered that a poem’s perfect form exists before it’s written; it’s the writer’s role to carefully shape the piece, much like a sculptor. Drafting plays a vital role in the writing process. It’s crucial to nurture each draft with patience to unveil The Poem as it desires to be presented.
The picture tells you how to arrange the words and the arrangement of the words tells you, or tells me, what’s going on in the picture.
Joan Didion, “Why I Write” (1976)
From my perspective, writing helps me make sense of the memories, emotions, and ideas that reside within me. I believe that I can only truly comprehend something once I put it into words, articulating it in a way that brings clarity to the chaos. Whether it’s a blog post, a diary entry, a text message, or a poem, my thoughts eventually find their way into language.
If my mind was already clear and organized, I wouldn’t feel the need to write; being a writer means unraveling the mysteries within. When faced with a puzzle, the solution lies in putting pen to paper (or fingers to keys). This was the first lesson imparted to me by Didion.
The Last Thing He Wanted
After her passing and my encounter with that incredible lecture, I resolved to read one of her books. During a Modernism and Postmodernism seminar in 2019, I was tasked with reading The Last Thing He Wanted. I couldn’t get past the fourth chapter. And it haunted me.
Three years later, I decided to give it another try. I was determined to dive in and submerge myself, blinking through the murky water of intrigue. Although I felt an increase in pressure, I soon adjusted. Foreign as it felt, I hardly let myself surface for air. Bursting past chapter four, I found myself entranced by Didion’s complex world of words; a government conspiracy that seemed incomprehensible yet strangely familiar. What an honor to be welcomed into the unknown, assumed ready. I couldn’t put her down, shake her from my thoughts; I couldn’t stop thinking about (and yet could hardly explain) what I’d read so far. I was consumed by confusion, astonishment, and a desperate desire to be in-the-know.
You could call this a reconstruction… A revisionist view of a time and a place and an incident about which, ultimately, most people preferred not to know. Real world.
Joan Didion, The Last Thing He Wanted (1996)
The Last Thing He Wanted follows a woman who embarks on a perilous journey to honor her father’s dying request, losing herself in a complex political web. The story is narrated by an investigative journalist keen on unraveling the intricate connections of those entwined in the conspiracy. Rather than jumping to simplistic conclusions, the narrator digs up every detail, reading into every line, both on and off the record, to uncover every nuance in between.
Confusion On the Ground
No comment.
Joan Didion, The Last Thing He Wanted (1996)
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Didion has a unique way of reintroducing powerful lines at strategically scattered points throughout the narrative to emphasize the emotional impact of that particular moment and the memories associated with it. For instance, a character expresses the sentiment that only those “on the ground” at the scene of a crime should be interviewed and believed. However, when questioned about what they witnessed, these individuals resist revelation. Their statements, “No comment. Thank you. Goodbye,” are ironic and opaque.
Certainly, those who have firsthand experiences should be heard, their stories documented and respected. They undoubtedly possess the most precise information about a given occurrence. Nevertheless, can they be trusted to tell it? Due to classification, secrecy, threats, and various other political factors, these authentic accounts of insider knowledge often go unrecorded.
What She Saw
The day after completing The Last Thing He Wanted, I stumbled upon a piece in that week’s issue of The New Yorker titled “What Joan Didion Saw” by Nathan Heller.
…in the danger zone between sensibility and objectivity: to be receptive to a passing feeling, a change in cast, and then to bear down, with unsparing rigor, in the world of understanding why.
Nathan Heller, “What Joan Didion Saw” (2021)
How natural is it for you to see the long-term stakes of a situation rubbing you the wrong way? Who has the authority to dismiss your discomfort as trivial? Everything conveys a narrative; every detail can spark contemplation, be analyzed deeply and become intricate. The key is to avoid falling into romantic delusion while also not becoming cold and disconnected from the nuances, subtleties, and artistry that make life vibrant.
A New Journalist’s Perspective
New Journalism… long narrative reporting imprinted with a writer’s style and point of view
Nathan Heller, “What Joan Didion Saw” (2021)
The core of any character’s experience lies in their positionality. Identity doesn’t have to be the sole focus of a story, but it serves as a starting point to explore broader social complexities. Didion had the ability to envision an individual in a particular setting or context. Her subsequent steps involved identifying who this person is, interpreting the significance of their experience, and understanding its relevance to society as a whole.
In retrospect, we know how to write when we begin… what we learn from doing it is what writing was for.
Joan Didion, Nathan Heller, “What Joan Didion Saw” (2021)
I am using the writing of The Word Becoming as a way to practice this concept. It allows me to explore topics that perplex and intrigue me. It serves as a means of self-expression through the pursuit of knowledge. For instance, I didn’t anticipate that my thoughts on Parcels would turn into a poetic piece. It wasn’t until I was halfway through writing that I realized it was helping me cope with my breakup. How much will this website aid me and others in addressing future questions? I am willing to write and wait and see.
By the time you’re thirty, the sound of your best writing is already in your mind’s ear, and the hardest part is listening.
Nathan Heller, “What Joan Didion Saw” (2021)
I pray I can hear myself clearly by thirty. It feels like a lifelong endeavor rather than something I can achieve in just a decade. Nevertheless, I am making progress. Having recently turned twenty-two, I aim to speak with sincerity and write with purpose.
Read Her Write
I’m excited to read the remaining Didion books in my possession — The White Album, Play It As It Lays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem — before sharing further thoughts on her work. Of course, these three books will not conclude my journey with dear Joan. The beauty of reading is that it is an ongoing process, and each time you enter another book, fresh ideas will spark and inspire you.
Three years passed between being assigned The Last Thing He Wanted and me finally reading it. Truly, it wasn’t the right time. My attention was captured by Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, Ishmael Reed’s Mumbo Jumbo, and Nella Larson’s Passing. Looking back, I understand why I felt overwhelmed by Didion’s storytelling.
I wonder what I’ll be engrossed in three years from today. My bookshelves are brimming with unread books that I’m eager to delve into. Spines barely creased resemble gateways to new realms, and I have faith that I’ll recognize the perfect moment to turn the page and venture inside.
Thanks for reading!
Care to share your thoughts? Feel free to drop a comment; let me know what you think.
With love,
01/29/2022