I finished Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking this weekend. It’s a reasonably quick read, and quite self-indulgent, but it’s a fantastic book. It’s a reflection on the year that followed the death of her husband (and during which her daughter is quite ill – she actually died after the book was finished), so it’s about greif and mourning. Thankfully, I don’t have a great deal of experience with the death of people who are close to me, but I found the book thought-provoking. If nothing else, it made me realise new ways in which greif manifests itself.