Sometimes it’s hard to swallow the fact that one day you will die, or even that your loved ones will. When I first read this book, I was going through a hard time in my life where I was constantly juggling school work with my social life, my religion, my family, and the future. It was a really stressful time where I couldn’t see the end, but Joan Didion had introduced a different kind of struggle and hardship that I couldn’t even fathom being harder than what I was going through. Sadly Joan had passed away in 2021, leaving a whole legacy of American Literature to so many desperate and passionate readers all around the world. But her story in the book, The Year of Magical Thinking, almost makes you want to jump into the book and hug her.
I can’t even imagine the fact of losing a husband, and then losing your one and only daughter 2 years after, honestly I think I would just drop my career and become depressed. But Joan’s narration is so quiet and loving that her grieving John is almost so beautifully sad. The first scene that she takes us in the book is calm, since she explains how she’s heard people in the past talk about their loved one’s instantaneous deaths, “He was…happy, successful, healthy–and then, gone” (pg 4), and introduces everyone’s taboo of death in a blunt way. Later we see her husband, John Gregory Dunne, and Joan eating dinner together one evening. Not to mention her daughter is hospitalized in the ICU, already enough of worry in her life. They were talking like every normal evening, until John stopped. I really appreciate Joan’s writing style especially in this part because even though she’s still grieved him, she gives such clear and concise descriptions that bring the reader attention to what’s really happening. I want to give so much praise and credit to this woman, because although her husband passed away at her sight, she expresses the grief and mourn that teaches the reader that it’s normal to be scared and mourning. As she says on page 13, “I have no memory of sirens. I have no memory of traffic.” The whole book is seen to be surrounded by her suppressed but loud emotions she portrays. There are times in the book where it feels like she’s so emotionless, or that she’s numb, but other times as if her inner voice were screaming for her husband. The moment when she accepted John’s death, it was the start of her “year of magical thinking”, and I’m moved by her feelings and control that she has, because that’s when she began to welcome being alone. As the book progresses, she’s seen to be retrieving back the memories she had shared with John, and the admiring character that he had. While she reminisces, her daughter–Quintana–is hospitalized and known to have an infection in her bloodstream that can lead to sepsis. This strong will to live and keep going is so beautifully seen in Joan’s character that shines brighter through the little snippets in her reflection. I loved this book, and definitely recommend this book. For people who might have a more sensitive view towards death, or death of a loved one, this book will probably empathize with you, or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s one of those books where you would either have sympathy towards Joan, or feel sensitive to it. Personally, I never felt uncomfortable or sensitive while reading the book, since it helped me to see in her perceptive and learn that death is devastating, but that life goes on.