Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Didion begins this essay, which is a true-crime analysis of the case of Lucille Marie Maxwell Miller, by describing the San Bernardino Valley. It is a curious part of California plagued by extreme weather and the hot Santa Ana winds and populated by people who aren’t cultured in the way a reader might expect from California. Rather, people there read infrequently, divorce at twice the national average, and can live and die without ever eating an artichoke. The essay narrows focus to Banyan Street, which is where Lucille Miller’s car caught fire one night and burned for over an hour with her husband Gordon “Cork” Miller inside it while Lucille looked fruitlessly for help. By the time of Gordon’s funeral, Lucille is held on a charge of first-degree murder.

Lucille grew up in Winnipeg, attended school in Washington state, and married Cork in 1949. Cork was in the Army, and though it seemed to be love at first sight, their marriage was troubled. Didion posits some clues to the source, including trouble while they were stationed in Guam, Cork’s disappointment in his dental career, and a large amount of personal debt. They settled down in the Valley and had three children before reaching what Didion calls “the familiar season of divorce” (Page 9).