An entire generation of literary-minded women has not stopped telling itself stories influenced by master storyteller The same, alas, cannot be said of a Hollywood bad girl whose life briefly intersected with Didion鈥檚 in the late 1960s and early 鈥�70s.
Few writers, of course, have the stature of Didion, and Babitz does have a contingent of ardent and influential admirers. Her biggest fangirl might be Lili Anolik, a contributing editor at Vanity Fair whose 2014 article about Babitz, followed by her 2019 biography 鈥淗ollywood鈥檚 Eve,鈥� fueled a revival of interest in her work.
Now Anolik is back with a new book, 鈥淒idion & Babitz,鈥� in which she explores the complicated relationship between the frenemies and declares her devotion to the less well-known of the two: 鈥淚鈥檓 crazy for Eve, love her with a fan鈥檚 unreasoning abandon. Besides, Joan is somebody I naturally root against: I respect her work rather than like it; find her persona 鈥� part princess, part wet blanket 鈥� tough going; and resent her for siccing on us, the innocent reading public, an army, seemingly unending, of middle-class young-women personal essayists who take their feelings very ultra-seriously and expect us to do the same.鈥�
The two women met in 1967 when Didion and her husband, John Gregory Dunne, were living at 7406 Franklin Avenue in Hollywood, a louche time and place that Didion immortalized in her breakout collection of nonfiction, 鈥淪louching Towards Bethlehem.鈥�
In 1971, Didion helped Babitz get a story published in Rolling Stone magazine 鈥� 鈥淪he is a painter, not a writer,鈥� Didion told the editor. Eventually, that led to a book deal. But their friendship fractured when Didion and Dunne were enlisted by Babitz鈥檚 publisher to edit the book, which became 鈥淓ve鈥檚 Hollywood,鈥� and Babitz bristled at their criticism. Later, she boasted to a friend, 鈥淚 fired Joan.鈥�
Anolik makes a convincing case for Babitz鈥檚 literary genius and sets up an interesting contrast between the two women鈥� one loose, libidinous and joyfully debauched; the other shy, cerebral and tightly controlled.
But don鈥檛 expect the calm, organized, even-handed approach of a literary critic or biographer. In the breathless, gossipy style of the tabloids, and with frequent, winking asides to the 鈥淩eader,鈥� Anolik dishes dirt on all the major and minor players in their haute bohemian circle, especially Didion and Dunne. In the end, everyone ends up looking bad, including, sadly, Babitz.
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AP book reviews:
Ann Levin, The Associated Press
