The Diaries of Dawn Powell: 1931-1965

I'm far from being an expert on Powell, have only read one of her novels (The Wicked Pavilion). I picked up the Diaries on a strong recommendation. No regrets. This is a long and rich book, 477 pages in my edition. Like so many diaries, it impressed me with Powell's sheer humanity. Unlike other diaries, I felt as though I learned something about many things-- specifically writing, a little bit about truth. And a little bit about artifice too-- his isn't a historical document, but a journal of a mind. These journals span World War II, but you would hardly know it was happening from the text. Powell was a prolific writer who worked from the 1930s to the 1950s. I'm glad she was prolific, because I'm going to start in on the rest of her books. Highly recommended. Gold star to Steerforth Press for the extremely helpful biographical notes.

Thank you, Steerforth & Tim Page (and Gore Vidal) for making the work of Dawn Powell available. Of all her books, I like the diaries the best--so candid, such a grown-up view of the world; her comments on writing, the New York literary world, and the gritty beauty and ugliness of New York are always acute. Her grasp of the complexity of relationships is amazing-her comments about her husband Joe, her sweetheart, and her child are poignant reminders that life need not be perfect to be rich. Here is the voice of a remarkable woman, one of the most clear-eyed American writers of the twentieth-century. She captures a particular New York moment as does no other writer, and that's saying something. I am somehow reminded of another great writer, another unsentimental woman: Natalia Ginzburg. An Italian, her work and Powell's are very different, yet they share a rare candor and stoicism.