I expected this book to be an exposition on mortality and what the death of a loved one conjures up in those that are left to deal with the (seemin... (show more)
I expected this book to be an exposition on mortality and what the death of a loved one conjures up in those that are left to deal with the (seeming) emotional wreckage of such a loss. What I did find was a rather mundane run-down of what one could feel or might feel through the eyes of historians and writers long dead themselves rather than what Didion herself feels or thinks. I longed for questions to be asked that she didn't seem interested in pondering: what does the death of one's closest companion say about life, one's own or theirs? What does it all mean? Is there a meaning? Do our lives matter after our spouse is gone? How can we find normalcy? What does grief really FEEL like? If you're numb, write about that. If you feel like you've perpetually gotten the wind knocked out of you, write about that. Write what you actually feel!
For me, this book was a rather immovable, frustrating experience. Didion remembers what it was to be with her husband: the vacations in Honolulu, trips to Europe, the book signings, the quiet evenings by the fire, having their daughter, but her writing is detached, impassive. She actually seems to write AROUND her own feelings, choosing rather to slip in other people's opinions about death and loss instead.
With all that said, the best bit of the book is her observation that death comes with the ordinary. People die on ordinary days in ordinary circumstances. It can come at any time, and likely will come on any given regular, ordinary day. This point intrigued me. At least it wasn't a total loss. (show less)