Why can’t I finish Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking? I have two copies: one I bought myself and one I got for Christmas. Yet, twice I’ve started it and twice have failed to complete, though I have managed to get about 3/4 of the way through.
I love Joan Didion. And the subject matter is compelling. I have to admit the inadmissable: I think I get bogged down in the morbidity of it. Maybe I don’t truly understand because I have not suffered the loss of an intimate through death. All my family members, close friends and relatives are still living. (That hasn’t applied to other novels and books, so why this one?) All these psychobabbly reasons surface in my brain: I’m disassociating to protect my psyche, I’m unempathic, I’m ADD…
And, most of all, I wonder why I am so bothered that I haven’t been able to embrace this particular book.
Just makes me wonder why some works appeal and others, even ones we really WANT to like, don’t penetrate through to the soul.