Firstly, for anyone thinking of reading this because of the deliberate impression that it contains exchanges between Babitz and Didion, it does not. The sole correspondence is Babitz’s unsent ‘Woolf’ letter to Didion, which has been published elsewhere. There is no rediscovered epistolary material of Didion’s in this book.
Initially, this seemed like a misguided attempt to protect Babitz from relative obscurity by “killing Joan,” which, as many others have pointed out, is tiresome. By the end of the book, with little evidence to support the so-called “amity to enmity” arc, it feels less like an effort to secure Babitz’s rightful position and more like the author finding a way to mythologise her own role in Babitz’s legacy.
Interesting, considering how much Didion’s supposed “climbing over corpses” for the sake of her own writing seems to offend the author. (McLennan’s Joan Didion and the Ethics of Memory offers an interesting perspective on Didion’s work in this regard.)
Overall, ephemeral work with far too much of the author’s interpretation (bordering on invention) to be of much use to the record.
As an archivist working in UDC, I found this intriguing as a "what-if-your-work-related-stress-dreams-were-a-book" concept. We often hear about the lore of inside theft, which is much more banal than movies &/or mass-market paperbacks make out (as highlighted by a recent case at the BM). So in theory, it's a clever idea to incorporate into a novel.
In short, the plot is hindered by the characters, and the characters are hindered by the plot. The culprit is exactly who you think it is by the first twenty pages, and you carry on through the book as if it's a thought experiment of 'what if everyone is very stupid and bad at their jobs (including the police).'
Moreover, it's an insensitive book in many aspects, in that clumsy sort of way. There's a line in the internal monologue of the protagonist that conflates fatness with unattractiveness (quote: "No, she decided. Even if he weren't fat, Percy Pickens would be ugly.") Mental health (and a medically ill patient, if I recall correctly) is referred to as having "broken" brains. The shock of this book isn’t the plot or motives, but how badly these themes foisted onto characters are handled.
The inane politics in academia are well presented, but otherwise, it asks you to accept too many implausible scenarios for the plot to continue. It tried to do too many things and, in doing that, did little well.