I began this book months ago while taking care of my elderly mother. Just as I started the book Mom fell. I’m sure she suffered a stroke. It was just six weeks until her death. During this time I found it impossible to read this book. And right after, when my own grief was so fresh and raw the book just reminded me of my own pain. I’m picking it up now and will try to finish. I found myself thinking about it while I dealt with my grief. For instance, I can’t seem to throw away Mom’s dentures. They were just so important. I know she will never need them again and that they are useless to anyone else. Still, I can’t toss ‘em.

I’ve been wanting to read this for a year or two now, ever since I read the first few chapters in the New York Times. I love how spare and effective the writing is; Didion uses lots of passive voice stylings but they always feel intentional.

I can’t put it down.

It’s hard to say that I enjoyed this book. Perhaps appreciated is a better term.

It was difficult for me to get into it at first. I found the sentence structure in the first chapter overly convoluted, difficult to understand and it was hard to grasp the rhythm she feels is so ‘her’. After the first chapter, it eased up and I felt like I slipped in to things more easily.

I liked to see her talk so openly about the irrationality of it all. I think it extends throughout life, to a lesser degree, but no one ever mentions it (and it certainly never features in fiction).

I also liked that she pushed relatively few points (grief is not rational, things are almost always ordinary) and that it was more about her coming to terms with things than trying to convey any particular message. Which is perhaps why I also liked that it wasn’t resolved in the end, that she was still raw and dealing with things. I think it did justice to the fact that this is ongoing; it doesn’t have a happy ending.

She wasn’t ashamed or afraid to show how it was for her. I admire that.

The book had an interesting affect on me. It made me feel the need to prepare for death (both of others and of myself) even while it made me realise that such a thing is impossible.

Reading this was certainly a worthwhile experience.