Having grown bored of Tik Tok and finishing up my last few classes of college, I've finally found my way back to this blog. No surprise here; I didn't quite live up to my big New York City, blogging, foodie, photographer, expectations. Normally, I would chalk this up as an L and move on from the dream entirely, but considering the fact that a global pandemic happened to strike in the middle of it all and derail life as we knew it completely, I've given myself a free pass, just this once.
So no, I will no longer be blogging about the "dive bars" and "exciting people" I met in my time in the city, in part because I'm still bitter about it and the fact that I am once again sitting in the middle of nowhere Missouri contemplating my future. Rather than the regularly scheduled programming of internship work and college graduation prep I expected from this season of life, I've been at home, growing my bookcase as a way to lose track of time, if only for the length of a story. The only downside to this new found love of reading however? My friends have officially grown tired of me shoving my new finds down their throats - leading me to take my intense need for approval and outrageous superiority complex here to the internet instead. I figured since we have quite a bit of free time on our hands, I may as well put these titles and thoughts out there on the off chance that they might mean something to someone else too. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration,
I also just love to give my unwarranted opinion on things.
Without further ado, my very first quarantine book review:
The White Album, Joan Didion
Starting things off with the ice-cold queen of prose herself, Joan Didion has been the highlight of my darkest darks in the Q. I’ve found myself dreaming of the day where I too can move to Hollywood, live in a mansion full of celebrities coming in and out freely, and look that cool wearing oversized sunglasses with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth. After watching the documentary, The Center Will Not Hold, I took to amazon and immediately purchased the rest of her repertoire. Maybe not everyone will idolize her amazingly stoic attitude as much as I do, but regardless, this book is a fantastic and eye opening look into a time America was as volatile and uncertain as we are today.
It takes you through life in the 60s and early 70s through her eyes as a journalist as well as a (somewhat) regular citizen of southern California with an exceptional level of sensory detail. A mix of personal reflections and keen observations, the way she connects her own struggles and ideas without inserting any blatant opinion into the narrative of the story is her very special talent and provides a crystal clear look into the events that shaped the time period; from Manson to Van Morrison and the Civil Rights Movement to California Bureaucrats. It reads a bit choppy as the collection of essays jumps from year to year and location to location, but in direct comparison to how these years actually progressed in real life, there really is no better way of trying to organize the timeline.
If your playlist is heavy on songs from the Summer of Love ‘67, you thoroughly enjoyed the movie Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, you can appreciate an Anna Wintour style bob, or prefer nonfiction essays about eras you never lived in to their mystical fiction counterparts, this book is a winner for you. Could not recommend enough. Extra points given to this for making me feel so high-brow and well-versed while I read it. Provides big brain energy from cover to cover, for sure.
Rating: 9/10
Only because I have to admit to needing Google for some of the vocabulary featured. What can I say? This is supposed to be a time of learning and growing.
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