I read this article in the NYT about Joan
The author kinda says that Didion expressed despair and disllusionment.
That she wrote to impose order on an unwieldy life but didn’t always succeed.
In my last blog post I was writing about finding a ‘nest’ or ‘homestead’ or even ‘community’ in which I could live in.
Didion seems kind of burned out and despairing (yet retaining intelligence) whereas my las vegas writer friend (despite her ditching me and various other things) she has always maintained ‘faith’ in community that love and community can work. I guess if its a choice I would also like to believe that love and community can work. That piecing together the bric a brac can work.
Maybe its the particulars of lives (Joan lost her daughter and husband in quick succession) , maybe its temperament (LM has always had a certain ‘sunniness’). I dunno some people are more prone to see the maudlin. I would dearly like to believe that something out of all this salvageable. I really hope so. Sometimes it seems so?
Over the next few days I am gonna start writing again to my pen friends.