An Evening of Magical Thinking

Author Joan Didion gave a reading on campus on Tuesday night, to a full house at Memorial Hall. (The English professor in charge was delighted; apparently writers don’t usually draw those kinds of crowds!)

I haven’t actually read her most recent book, A Year of Magical Thinking, yet. But I’ve been fascinated with it because it came out not long after my friend John died, and the excerpts that I read about Didion’s experience of grief seemed right on target. (In fact, the reason that I haven’t read the book yet is because the pain has been too fresh; I couldn’t face the details of someone else’s loss without it bringing up my own too vividly.)

The reading was excellent. I was impressed that she was able to stand up and so matter-of-factly read about her husband’s death (although of course we’re just one stop along a tour of readings).

But the most striking point of the evening came during the questions. Some of the questions were fun (“What’s your favorite book?”). Others were well-intentioned but cringeworthy – the kind of questions that you might ask about an author when discussing a book in a lit class, but that sound bizarre and awkward when addressed to a real flesh-and-blood person standing in front of you. The one that took the cake, though, was an older man (I almost said gentleman, but you’ll see why not in a moment) who got up and said, “Why did you read to us from your book, which we all could read for ourselves, rather than preparing some remarks for us?”, in a tone of deep offense. The crowd was a bit stunned, but Joan simply replied, “It’s a reading.” (Burst of applause.) “That’s what I was asked to do.” The old man replied, “Well, the paper said it was a lecture!” He turned and stormed out of the auditorium.

It’s hard to imagine what kind of sense of entitlement would lead someone to confront a famous and beloved writer in that public way, especially since the reading was free! And especially, as one of my colleagues later noted, at Carolina! The tradition of Southern hospitality and politeness is still alive and well here. My guess is early-stage dementia. Mike thinks the guy must write a lot of letters to the editor, too.