Auction

What I picked up from the writer I admire most.

I’m not a stuff person, though I do cherish meaningful specifics, like my grandmother’s writing desk, and “Sunday, Monday, and Always” the autobiography my mother wrote and illustrated in fourth grade. My dad’s musty, worn-snouted teddy bear. My copy of Jane Eyre with woodcut illustrations.  

So, when I found out about the auction featuring the contents of my favorite writer Joan Didion’s New York apartment, I got excited. Owning something that was once hers would be a totemic, tangible connection.

I registered for the auction online. It was fascinating to see items she references in her work, like the black and gold Hitchcock chair from her mother-in-law’s home in West Hartford, Connecticut, which shows up both in the text and on the back cover of Didion’s last book, Blue Nights. An assortment of collected beach shells, while lacking contextual significance, were borderline affordable with a top bid of $1,100. My friend Pamela, also a Didionphile, suggested we buy them and divvy them up.

I thought about owning $550 worth of random beach shells.

Still.    

What I really wanted was the photograph of Didion leaning against her Corvette in 1968, when Slouching Towards Bethlehem came out. The current bid is $10,000. I know this amount puts it out of my reach, but as time has gone on, I’m okay with that. I’m happy to peruse without longing. I enjoy seeing what mattered to the writer I have spent most of my life fangirling.

Ultimately, it’s through Didion’s work that I came to understand that it’s not the thing itself, but the thing about the thing. This, rather than a photograph or collection of shells, is my takeaway.