So…having previously read The Year of Magical Thinking, I picked up this book. First of all, it takes only about an hour to read this very small book. Secondly, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a reader, so I read almost all the time. But why I would choose to read a book about a mother writing about the loss of her only daughter, well…let’s just say it was ill advised. In any event, I also have to say I guess I don’t like Didion’s style; she repeats phrases over and over, and it’s really annoying. And I feel really sorry for her as well — she is definitely not at peace with much of anything — aging, being alone, etc. I almost think she’s clinically depressed and would like to call her doctors in NYC to make sure they add an anti-depressant to her daily medications.