In Blue Nights, Didion again writes about loss and grief, this time focusing on the death of her daughter, Quintana Roo. There is an unflinching honesty to Didion’s voice and she holds nothing back. Her writing is also layered and rhythmic, so we are handed sentences and words that repeat and spiral so that the narrative is circular and reaching, as this is what grief is—an overlapping thread of memories and moments that cannot be separated from the life and love of the person who is so suddenly absent. Blue Nights is haunting—a complex filter of a life sifted through loss. Together with The Year of Magical Thinking, Didion has handed us a compilation of grief—an assembly that is determined and striking, and that will ring familiar to anyone who has had to form their own narrative around the dichotomy of holding on and letting go.