Joan Didion’s enduring popularity among today’s young readers is a somewhat mysterious phenomenon. So many visibly progressive, literary types seem to uncritically worship her. Really? I always think to myself, concerned that I’ve misheard them. Joan Didion, the National Review contributor? Joan Didion, the socially nostalgic Goldwater Republican? Easily disturbed by counterculture, dismissive of women’s liberation, regarded John Wayne as the paragon of masculine sexual allure? That Joan Didion? I mean, I know why I like her, but why do you?
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