On 30th December 2003, Joan Didon’s husband John sat down to dinner, had a massive heart attack and died. This book is Didon’s account of the year that followed – which she dubbed the year of magical thinking, because she spent the year thinking that John might return; for example, she refused to throw away his shoes, because she thought he would need them if he came back.
Just five days before her husband died – in fact on Christmas Day – John and Joan’s daughter Quintana was admitted to hospital severely ill with pneumonia, and it was not known whether she would live or die (in fact, she spent much of the following year in hospital).
Didion talks about her process of grieving, from the initial stage of denial, through stages of anger, and finally to a stage where she accepts that he is dead and will not be coming back. She talks about how she avoids going to places where she went with John, as she tries to run away from happy memories which now make her sad, but how certain things will often and unexpectedly remind her of something John said to her, or somewhere they went, and she feels herself being pulled down into the vortex again.
I thought the writing was very eloquent, and although there are a number of technical medical terms which I did not necessarily understand – when she discusses the causes of John’s heart problems, which were known about before his heart attack, and also when she talks about their daughter’s condition – this did not mar the flow of the words. some of the lines Didion uses are beautiful, and she certainly managed to put across how she was feeling.
However, as talented a writer as the author clearly is, I never really felt able to connect with her feelings on any level. I sometimes felt that I just didn’t want to pick the book up, but that wasn’t because I felt empathetic towards the author, but rather because I knew that such sad subject matter might reflect upon my own mood. (After finishing it, I longed for something light hearted or escapist to read.)
Overall though I’m glad I read this book, and probably would, cautiously, recommend it.
Would you recommend it “cautiously” because of the technical writing or because of the sad content?
Hi Rebecca 🙂 My caution would definitely be due to the upsetting nature of the book. The technical writing wasn’t a problem (although I had little or no idea what the medical terms meant, but the book wasn’t overloaded with them, in any event). I just found that sometimes I didn’t want to pick the book up because I knew it would impact on my own mood. Having said that, it might be that some people might find the book helpful – I think grief can feel very lonely sometimes, and reactions to any book are subjective.
Thanks for the comment 🙂
Thanks for your reply. What made you chose this book to read and review? With the topic of grief being discussed more in books and blogs, I guess I’ve wondered what would make someone not going through (or not having gone through) a deep loss and the ensuing grieving process pick up a book on the topic of grief, especially since it’s one that causes so much of an uncomfortable reaction.
I’ve seen the book at the library…you have piqued my interest.
To be honest, I had bought it years ago (definitely before 2007, because that’s when I started recording what books I buy on LibraryThing), and after I finished my last book, I just saw it on my shelf and thought it was about time I read it.
I can’t remember my motivation for buying it, but it may have been after someone I know died. I do like to read books of different genres and try to vary my reading. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it 🙂
(The author is not explicit about her grief, in many ways she is quite restrained, but she definitely gets her feeling across. I imagine that to some extent she had to put her grieving for her husband ‘on hold’ – she makes a reference to this herself – while she was worried about her daughter’s illness.)