Dorothy Parker, a Confessional Poet

DOROTHY PARKER (1893 - 1967)

       In reading through Dorothy Parker's poetry, it is not so much the witty, terrifically bitter, pithy lines that are easy to remember and provoke an edgy smile, but rather it is the collected despair of her work that lingers, nags, and haunts.

       Who was Dorothy Parker, the woman? Dorothy Parker was a brilliant, strong, and paradoxically sad, vulnerable woman, if one reads autobiography into a poet's work, which in her case I think is appropriate. She was a "confessional" poet, but she definitely did it her way. As strung-out emotionally as Sylvia Plath -with all her fury and melancholy-, Parker was as clever can be with language and with melancholy, almost to the point of frustration. Often, she would suddenly, and with great agility, tie up a poem with a dazzling ribbon of distraction. For example, the poem "Well-Worn Story" has the sway and song of Emily Dickinson until the last stanza where she cuts herself off from the intense emotion of the earlier lines. I wish she had stayed with the passionate emotion instead of becoming so deftly pen-to-paper aware. And yet-and yet- in some poems like "Afternoon", with its yearning for both the lived and unloved life, and "R�sum�", wit and pain marry into a strong union. Here she tells the reader she's been to that side of town. But in doing so she doesn't splatter herself onto the page. There's nothing to clean up.The merging of despondency and humor are sulfated into rock, solid. The poem evokes a quiet, uncomfortable smile or, when read aloud to a group, a quiet, nervous laugh instead. A quiet, nervous yes.

     In all her writings (poetry, short stories, plays, criticism) Dorothy Parker was consistently amusing, poignant, biting, desperate, and desperately memorable, as in "Cherry White", quick with Dickinson's dashes, and Plath's pathos. But it is clearly Parker's pessimism all the way, tragic and lightly dismissive, mind-bending, and specially heart-breaking.

     

Born on August 22, 1893, Dorothy Rothschild is remembered nowadays as Dorothy Parker, having taken the surname of her first husband, Edwin Pond Parker II. Her mother Annie died when she was only four years old, and her father Jacob remarried shortly thereafter. Parker was educated at Miss Dana's School in Morristown, New Jersey, and the Blessed Sacrament Academy, a school contained in a New York City convent. Surprisingly, Parker, one of America's most celebrated and quick-minded witticisms, never received a high school diploma. She entered the workforce at an early age, helping to provide financial assistance to her father, whose once-successful garment business had begun to decline. In 1933, her father died, and Parker, on her own at this point, supported herself as a dance instructor until her literary and intellectual career began in 1914.

        The beginning of the Great Depression in the 1930s brought

The Algonquin Circle: She usually met with her close friends at the
Algonquin Hotel for lunch and talks

another marked change in Parker's life and poetry. The Jazz Age in which she had participated so enthusiastically was essentially over; writing in reaction to fascism, her poetry took on a more political turn. In addition to poetry and reviews, Parker also wrote short stories, publishing the collections Laments for the Living in 1939 and After Such Pleasures in 1933. That same year, Parker married Alan Campbell, and the couple moved to Hollywood to write screenplays together. Her poetry continued to shift from the witty, light-hearted style of the '20s to a more serious, introspective style, as shown in her 1936 volume Collected Poems: Deep as a Well. This trend continued, and in the 1949s, Parker endorsed and supported several radical causes, including communism. She continued to publish poetry and endorse emerging activist movements, Civil Rights and feminism chief among them, until her death on June 7, 1967.

ONE PERFECT ROSE

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.

     All tenderly his messenger he chose;

Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet�

     One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;

     "My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."

Love long has taken for his amulet

     One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet

     One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

Ah no, it's always just my luck to get

     One perfect rose.

R�SUM�

Razors pain you;

Rivers are damp;

acids stain you;

And drugs cause cramp.

Guns aren't lawful;

Nooses give;

Gas smells awful;

You might as well live.

NEWS ITEM

Men seldom make passes

At girls who wear glasses.

AFTERNOON

When I am old, and comforted,

     And done with this desire,

With Memory to share my bed

     And Peace to share my fire,

I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands

     Beneath my laundered cap,

And watch my cool and fragile hands

     Lie light upon my lap.

And I will have a sprigg�d gown

     With lace to kiss my throat;

I'll draw my curtain to the town,

     And hum a purring note.

And I'll forget the way of tears,

     And rock, and stir my tea.

But oh, I wish those blessed years

     Were further than they be!

Websites:

Poets.org
Modern American Poetry

In Spanish:
Revista Clar�n

Youtube:

Anne Hathaway Reads Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker reads "One Perfect Rose"
Dorothy Parker reads "R�sum�"

In Spanish:
Revista Clar�n

References:

Breese, Colleen (ed.) 2002: Dorothy Parker: Complete Stories. London: Penguin.
Fitzpatrick, Kevin C. 2013: A Journey into Dorothy Parker's New York. Berkeley: Roaring Forties Press.
Parker, Dorothy, 2010: Complete Poems. London: Penguin.
Pettitt, Rhonda S. 2000: A Gendered Collision: Sentimentalism and Modernism in Dorothy Parker's Poetry and Fiction. London: Associated University Presses.

In Spanish:
Parker, Dorothy 2011: Dorothy Parker, Narrativa completa. Barcelona: Lumen.
Parker, Dorothy 2013: Poemas perdidos. Madrid: N�rdica Libros.