In 1984, Joan Didion’s best-selling, critically acclaimed books didn’t stop a respected critic such as Christopher Lehmann-Haupt from presuming he had the right to criticize the publicity photo for her novel Democracy. The black-and-white image, he wrote, “presents the author wading in a skirt and sweater that cling sufficiently to reveal somewhat more of the anatomy than one is accustomed to seeing in a dust-jacket portrait”—then, without providing evidence, that “Miss Didion’s dust-jacket image was thought to be in questionable taste by a number of fastidious observers, including her English publisher.”
Joan Didion’s husband, the writer John Gregory Dunne, wrote a long, fuming, deadly serious and rather hilarious letter to Lehmann-Haupt defending his wife’s honor, arguing he “would stick pasties on the Venus de Milo and call it taste. It is a taste I want no part of.”
Lehmann-Haupt conceded defeat. The New York Times critic responded, “Dear John: Thanks for writing. I guess you’re right.”
