![]() ![]() ![]() These are reminders not of life, but of Joan. A recipe for sauerkraut evokes the coziness of a boozy, rainy day on Fire Island the sense memory of cracked crab for lunch as a child makes her “see the afternoon all over again,” no matter that the crab was almost certainly fictitious. Her essay is called “On Keeping a Notebook,” and Didion, to be clear, kept one (perhaps still does)-a place to document not what happened to her, but “how it felt to be me,” scraps of experience, sometimes factual, sometimes embroidered. “My approach to daily life ranges from the grossly negligent to the merely absent, and on those few occasions when I have tried dutifully to record a day’s events, boredom has so overcome me that the results are mysterious at best.” ![]() “At no point have I ever been able successfully to keep a diary,” Joan Didion once wrote. ![]()
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