By Ella Karoline Hendricks

Up-close, raw and personal, told by the only one who knew the real Eve Babitz, the book “Didion and Babitz” offers a look into the relationship between the larger-than-life authors of Los Angeles in the ’60s: Joan Didion and Eve Babitz. Following the course of their lives as they navigate the tumultuous ’60s and how the women gained their respective reputations as the voice of the 1960s. The book, written by Lili Anolik, also serves as an extension of sorts to Anolik’s previous biography of Eve Babitz, entitled “Hollywood’s Eve.”

Running in overlapping circles, Didion and Babitz shared a relationship that has not been discussed in detail before — with Didion acting as a friend, editor and mentor during Babitz’s writing career. Didion’s letter of approval and urge for publication resulted in Babitz’s first work “The Sheik” to be published in Rolling Stone magazine, which set her on a path toward becoming the accredited Eve Babitz we know today. 

Yet, this working relationship was short lived, with Babitz swearing off Didion as an editor — although the pretenses of friendship, and antagonism, remained for the rest of their lives. Anolik characterizes Didion and Babitz as foils — one in the same yet opposites, often clashing. 

“Didion and Babitz” is captivating; Anolik does an incredible job of drawing you straight into LA in the ’60s, right in the middle of the sex, drugs and conflict of the era. 

Beginning with Babitz, as Anolik states “Eve… is the key that unlocks the very good and very important Joan,” the author dives into her story beginning in high school — the moment, as she puts, when “a person becomes aware — socially aware, sexually aware, self-aware.”

Chronicling the lives of Babitz and Didion, while focusing more closely on Babitz, Anolik takes us through both the lives of the authors, coming to full form when the pair met in 1967 at a Didion-Dunne dinner party. Babitz was free, unattached and critical towards Mrs. “Dunn” (Babitz’s nickname for Didion in the early years of their friendship). Didion was married to John Greggory Dunne, a fellow writer. In each other, Didion and Dunne found a built-in editor, and famously, they did not edit outsiders’ work.

Except, Didion made an exception for Eve Babitz. 

Grounded in letters (sent and unsent) from Babitz found posthumously, the book extensively covers both women, the ins and outs of their lives, with Anolik leading the way through the messy and complicated. Rich with sex, pop culture and wit, it is wonderfully detailed and fully fleshed out, telling a compelling story from start to finish. 

Anolik’s voice is inexplicably linked in every aspect of the book, from her views on Didion to Babitz to everyone they interacted with. Anolik’s work shows a bias toward Babitz and a need for self-insertion not often found in this genre. Anolik states multiple times that she is on Babitz’s side, which cannot be faulted as she knew Babitz personally, as opposed to Didion, whom she only saw through the lens of Babitz and Didion’s public perception. 

Anolik’s voice lives on every page as she takes the role of Babitz, almost fictionalizing lives. It’s as if Anolik got wrapped up in the Hollywood glamour of the scene and can’t help but further push a Babitz-like narrative — blending truth and narrative. Anolik frames Babitz as a quintessential Californian — muse, artist, author, draped in excess, while Didion is an outsider in utter control: cunning, cold and calculated. 

This book is begging you to pick — Didion or Babitz, one to root for, one to critique. In doing so, it unconsciously negates the talents and impact of two writers who were so often pitted against each other (even if it was themselves doing the pitting). 

Despite this, the book takes a deviation at the end from this ruthless struggle between the two in order to tell the reader that, in fact, Didion and Babitz are one and the same, two sides of the same coin, soulmates even. 

In Chapter 26, A Friend from Hollywood, Anolik wrote, “Eve is Joan’s ideal self,” in reference to Babitz’s life — chaotic and vital, romantic and real. Then Anolik switches the statement: “If Eve is Joan’s ideal self, then Joan is Eve’s practical self.” Didion represents the things Babitz could not maintain — regiment, control and order. 

They mirror one another in all aspects — their differences showing the ways the other has failed or succeeded. But despite it all, they are connected in one link — being alone. 

In her closing statements, Anolik wrote, “I mean alone always, alone fundamentally. At their cores, these women were solitary, private, implacable … Brides of Art. No man truly touched either. And each was the closest the other had to a secret twin or sharer.” 

While I agree with the statement, and Anolik gives convincing evidence to the fact, it is not necessarily a reasonable conclusion to draw from the case she builds in the bulk of the book. Instead, the majority of the book seems an attempt to revisualize Didion from her maternal, otherworldly public view to cold and calculating, while framing Babitz as vivid and complicated as life itself. 

Anolik’s voice is integral to the story itself, with inserts of her own life and reflections on her interviews. Yet, this creates a unique outlook on the lives of these icons, with a personal and modern voice blending it all together seamlessly.

Anolik successfully creates a portrait of two high-profile writers and artists whose work we revere, yet whose lives we have never truly known. If you are interested in learning more about the life and career of Eve Babitz and how Joan Didion was irrevocably a part of that life, I would highly recommend “Didion and Babitz.”