Nonfiction Pizza Party
June 19, 2012: The Music Hall Historic Theatre, Portsmouth, NHThis is what it's like when Joan Didion reads aloud: The cool detachment of her monotone becomes soothing and the ends of her words sound crisp, the greatest example being when she says, “cucumber and watercress sandwiches.”She read from her most recent book, the memoir Blue Nights, which details the grief of losing her only child as she herself ages. The blue refers to the color of twilight in New York following the summer solstice. About ten minutes in—“This book is called ”˜Blue Nights' because at the time I began it I found my mind turning increasingly to illness, to the end of promise, the dwindling of the days, the inevitability of the fading, the dying of the brightness”—her voice splintered and before I knew it the three-piece house band kicked in, and she was done reading.Yes, there was a band. And blue lights shined down as she read about blue lights!The whole night was a bit troubling. I wish the band played “New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down.”To start, Didion has been one of my favorite writers for as long as anyone and she is 77 and walked onstage holding onto a gentleman's elbow for balance. Profilers always note her physical frailty and in person, from 14 rows away, she looked as advertised. When she gestured, her hands looked like crumpled tissues.After she read, Didion was interviewed onstage by Virginia Prescott, of New Hampshire Public Radio. They sat in a mock living room scene, with chairs, end table, and rug. When Didion talks, her voice gives the impression of deadpan, so after half her serious statements, the crowd cracked up. Example: “I don't recommend grief for anything. I don't think it's useful as a technique [laughter].” Not her fault or our fault (maybe), but still troubling.Didion's age made the night, and the process of reading Blue Nights, both distressing and more meaningful.Now I can say I closed my eyes in a dark room and heard her voice, heard her say death is a rattlesnake, heard her describe what it feels like to return to New York City by bus in the rain. I heard her disagree with an interviewer again and again. I heard her say, “Being written about is never a good experience.”Now I have to agree.--David Bersell