The Year of Magical Thinking Joan Didion

Didion, Joan. The Year of Magical Thinking.

Joan Didion’s work always leaves me spellbound and speechless and The Year of Magical Thinking was no exception. Didion’s ability to manipulate her reader’s emotion through her command of the language is awe inspiring—it is a talent I would strive to emulate. In this text I cried, I laughed, I grieved and I took steps towards recovery with Didion.

At first her distance from the events unfolding is somewhat off-putting. But how else to write about it? One can not examine their emotions with any sort of objectivity without stepping back and looking at actions and reactions; reporting. Didion’s ability to report her pain is almost mind-boggling. She walks her reader through her tragedies (compounded) with the tone and perspective of a journalist.

And then it hits you. This is her life, her heart.

The reader must step back and consider what discipline it took to create such a text. The Year of Magical Thinking does not have the sharp-edged prose of Didion’s other non-fiction works, but then how could it? It is sharp on subtler levels. In this text she is reporting the death of a dentist in California and the subsequent events.

No. She is reporting the death of her life partner – and the subsequent events as they unfolded in her soul. She is reporting the near-death of her only child—while she is in the throes of her grief. And we cry, struggle and survive with her. Joan Didion in The Year of Magical Thinking has outdone herself. She has given the reader a piece, not of literary genius, but rather a profoundly intimate part of herself.

Omnivore's DIlemma Michael Pollan

Pollan, Michael. Omnivore’s Dilemma. New York: Penguin Press, 200

I have read this book very slowly and very carefully (being a slow food fan). I found it fascinating. The connections Pollan was able to make – the connections he forced me to make; politically, environmentally, culturally, economically and health-wise. The text is a vivid reminder of the inter-connectedness of our world.

And he is certainly a master of his trade; I have passage after passage underlined throughout the text. He engages his reader in every sensory way. His asparagus tale on page 175 is a good example. Having paid close to that price for winter asparagus – and been equally disappointed, this passage rang true for me. His ethical dilemma in purchasing the asparagus also rings true. And that for me is the mark of excellence here.

All of the “data” got tiresome. I found that in places I had to force myself to slow down, this scientist said and that philosopher said; after a while it all blurred. But I never once thought, I should go check that myself. Not once. This is an amazing statement – I google everything. But I think this is the book’s weakness. I would have been happy to give myself over to his knowledge and just, in some cases, have the end result – the story: Michael Pollan’s quest for “what’s for dinner?” And the incredible consequences of his choices. And by default our choices.

With me, Pollan was preaching to the choir. I am a firm believer in we are what we eat – or more aptly phrased take in. Corn is an important subject to me, although I don’t think the book is ultimately about corn. Not eating corn becomes, as Pollan tells us, repeatedly, is a political statement, almost an act of revolution—it is about our involvement in our personal reality. It is an act of Americanism born of fierce independence. The book is a reminder of how apathetic American have become.

Americans are fed a steady diet of headlines – without the in-depth reporting that should follow, and television that makes people like Brittany Spears rather than Joan Didion a cultural icon. And books, well books, are in decline. Myspace replaces the already compromised writing we find in email (as compared to letter writing). It is all fast food, as a culture we have become what we take in. And writing like Michael Pollan’s will be difficult for some to digest. We are fed a diet intellectually as well as physically of … um … garbage. Pollan’s ideas about food can be carried over into our intellectual life. He gave me so much to think about.

Thank you For Smoking Christopher Buckley

Buckley, Christopher. Thank You For Smoking. New York: HarperPerennial, 1994.

Christopher Buckley’s book Thank you For Smoking is a satirical jab at the nation’s smoking industry. Buckley also makes bold and unflattering statements about office politics, journalism, and the Washington machine that we call our government. No one is spared.

The book differs in many aspects from the film – including the very different ending; however both works have merit. Both demand of the viewer/reader some critical thinking about the world in which we live and how much we participate in the negative aspects of that world. Buckley took on the tobacco industry, but his commentary could have just as easily looked at the pharmaceutical, automobile or gun industries. Only the company and product names would have needed changing.

That said, Thank you For Smoking had, in my opinion, flaws. And one significant flaw. The name-changing proved disorienting for me – especially since he included dates. The president, in particular, was fictitious. This detracted from the quality of the text, everyone knows who the presidents have been for the last fifty years; most of his readers could probably name them in order. So why the ruse? Who is he protecting? The book never attacks the president directly. Just policy, well unjust policy actually.

The book is attacking us – American citizens who support industries that do not have our best interests at heart. Repeatedly throughout the text character after character says, “Tobacco takes care of its own” –carrying the implication over – and to hell with the rest of you. We will do whatever it takes to preserve our position, even if it means that millions will die.

The book is well written and demands consideration. One must look at the subtext and consider where on this continuum does one find themselves? While the book is comical at every turn, the dark commentary on the American apathetic mindset is deeply disturbing.

The Writing Life, Annie Dillard

Dillard, Annie. The Writing Life. New York: Quality Paperback Book Club, 1989.

Annie Dillard looks at her own approach to writing in The Writing Life. She considers why and how she writes. She considers what has worked for her in the past and what has not. She invites the reader into her head as she recalls different writing experiences and whether or not they were successful.

The text, although an enjoyable read, can meander to places unexpected – she spends considerable energy discussing pilot, Dave Rahm. Her purpose for this analogy, in my opinion could have been accomplished in half the pages she has allotted.

The last chapter of the book is a complete puzzle, it seems to simply be attached and not part of the preceding narrative in any way. I was left wondering how to piece it all together—which may have been Dillard’s intent—How, in fact, does a writer piece it all together?

The Writing Life is paced in a typically Dillard way. She dances around it using the language to paint pictures for her reader. And while the pictures are always beautiful, they don’t necessarily help the reader understand what the writing life entails. And then there are profound passages that nail the issue.

Dillard always seems to me to be more philosopher that non-fiction writer, and that works for her in the book. She is looking at the hows and whys of becoming a writer. She does so successfully.

The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard

Dillard, Annie. The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. New York: Quality Paperback Book Club, 1974.

I came to The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek having just completed Ann Lamott’s Traveling Mercies. Both texts embody spiritual journeys. Both texts approach the world, in general, from my perspective. It was not the appropriate order in which to read these books. I have read other Dillard texts – and have heard her speak – I’ve always been a fan. I found myself distracted, restless and impatient in the beginning pages of the book. Nothing moved. Oh sure, Tinker Creek moved, but the action of a creek is somewhat sedate.

In general, I pace my reading gauging the time it will take to read any given text based on the number of pages therein, and knowing the speed at which I read. I estimated The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek to be a three to four day read. But creeks and muskrats move slower than that, not to mention crickets and spiders. Dillard’s purpose seemed to be to slow down the reader – to engage on a more subtle level. Her pilgrimage slowed me down, forced me to take deep breaths and walk in the meadow below my house.

But I found myself wondering, about a third of the way in, on the day my phone bill was due, how is she paying for this luxurious life? How can she wander the shores of Tinker Creek for hours on end, undisturbed by the outside world and its cares? How is she eating? This was a gap in the text that I simply could not get beyond.

I loved her language and her ability to show me her surrounding and emotional and intellectual reaction to those surroundings, but the text as a whole remained very surreal and abstract for me. Unlike Lamott’s text which at times was entirely too real.

In both texts there was a search for God. Both texts had strong feminine voices and perspectives. And yet, they are polar opposites. For Lamott God is to be found in the busyness of life while for Dillard God lives in the quiet places. Dillard’s biblical references always caught me off-guard. Hers seems to be a more native, pagan approach to life and yet her very Christian presentation does not feel or seem out of place in the pages of her book. The juxtaposition of the texts has given me a perspective in my own writing – do I fall into one camp or the other? In my heart I think I must learn to fall between the two.

Traveling Mercies, Ann Lamott

Lamott, Anne. Traveling Mercies. New York: Anchor, 2000.

I have always enjoyed Anne Lamott’s writing style. Her calculated and deliberate grammar choices, she wants to keep her reader present and breathless with her. I find this engaging in Traveling Mercies. The question I have been batting around is, does this work as a spiritual autobiography? And further, does she capture, in her use of tone and character, her sense of God? I would posit that God is as much a character in the text as Lamott herself. God is never “out there,” He or She (I loved how she did that so consistently throughout the text) is very present and often is a character in the text.

For me, Traveling Mercies is successful in many ways because we share many cultural values/esthetics. Her journey can and does mirror mine: hectic, confusing, stressful, dysfunctional, real. Her spirituality is grounded in a concrete present tense. Although she alludes to Jesus as being her guide, model, savior and perhaps substitute father figure, the God of her belief system understands the chaotic nature of life – the fast pace – the dated-ness of many organized religions. She has very much made God in her own likeness, a busy being with an, at times, somewhat dark sense of humor. And she seeks her God in all of her experiences—and finds her or him there.

There were places in the text that seemed forced or contrived. For me, the chapter entitled “Grace” felt that way. Of course, this could be because I related so, so, much to the preceding chapter, “Forgiveness”. I know mothers like the one she describes, and often find myself more like Lamott than the other mother portrayed. “Grace” felt to me forced as opposed to “Forgiveness” which just sort of tumbled out.

I have struggled to decide if Traveling Mercies is a good book. Or is it good because I liked it. And does the answer to that matter? I think that it does. And I think the book likely does not meet the standard of a “good” book – it was good for me in that I related so well. It is good in that she openly admits her vulnerabilities; she owns them. But Lamott’s style is can get sloppy in its speed. She glosses things that may ultimately be important, and often (also like me) ignores the rules of grammar. I don’t think that her work, with the notable exception of Bird by Bird will stand literatures true test – endurance.