I am not alone in my generation in thinking of her as a sort of mother figure. In 2006, she had a public conversation with then Paris Review editor Philip Gourevitch at Summer Stage in Central Park, and the crowd was filled with over a hundred people in their twenties and thirties, many gazing at her with adoration. She read from The Year of Magical Thinking and tears streamed down the faces of girls who clutched copies of her books.
Heh. And this:
“You should have offered her your boots,” one friend said. “She was cold.”
Joan Didion does not seem like she would make the most maternal of literary idols.
Except, not. Joan Didion shoppers = Anthropologie shoppers. Or maybe Shabby Chic? What about Urban? Bet you they could push a few crates of Diddy-on. Right next to all those Feist CDs. Related, for Carles: Is Joan Didion the nu alt-female bro?
I just hope that the “you should have offered her your boots” person wasn’t serious. She’s Joan Didion, not Juliana Hatfield playing an angel in the Christmas episode of My So-Called Life.