Wait, are you questioning the literary merit of Dorothy Parker, or are you questioning the mythic aura surrounding the Round Table?
Personally, after doing a whole lotta research on both, I’d say that Parker agonized over every word she ever wrote. “I never write one word, but I change three,” the reason she never wrote a novel was because she was a perfectionist, and destroyed the only partially written novel she ever attempted.
Instead, she published three volumes of poetry, and a ton of brilliant short stories. Yea, I’d say she used her tools to the best of her ability.
I am not Parker bashing, at least I don’t think I am, and I respect your “whole lotta” research into the “tons” of short stories, but I sometimes question our willingness to canonize authors, painters, and the like who never took that final step.
Do we sometimes say we find the lifestyle interesting, tragic, poetic or witty and then convince ourselves that they must be great artists since we were interested in their lives?
I like Parker. Some of her poetry is good. Yes, there are three books. Most of her short stories are very good, but looking at the stories that approach really fine should make you angry. She came nowhere close to using the tools she had to the best of her ability. If you think that, you are being more unkind to the woman’s talent than I am.
And if you read the biographies I think you probably did, you realize that she probably would have agreed more with me than you.
The Op’s the hero of RED HARVEST, which I recommended. He’s also the man in charge of many of the short stories, which are very good, and THE DAIN CURSE, which isn’t.
I agree with much of your argument about the actual literary output of this gang…Benchley in particular fretted about frittering away his talent. But, hell. I’m happier he wrote all those funny little articles, always good for a giggle, than if he’d churned out big dumb novels like his grandson did.
In any case, why not start a new thread addressing the Algonquinians’ pathetic art and its relation to their puny, snivelling lives? THIS one happens to be a light-hearted “Would you schtup Herbert Bayard Swope or Marc Connelly first?” thread.
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Oh, Eve! Swiddles is charming, and she knows what “Diddy Wah Diddy” means! Want to let her in?
What Ike said. However, I do feel the need to address this, as it was directed at me:
Yea, because she had what I believe was a Borderline Personality Disorder, not because she was RIGHT.
I should be more specific. I have read ALL biographies written about her. I have done close textual analysis of her works, specifically her O. Henry Award Winning piece “Big Blonde,” a semi-autobiographical story about a suicidal alcoholic. I’ve read everything antholocized that she’s written. As I mentioned before, I wrote a research paper in which I diagnosed her as a Borderline, using a combination of materials.
I can’t believe you’re taking the literary merit of any of them into consideration. Faulkner? Fitzgerald? I don’t know how much, if any, of Parker’s short stories you’ve read, but I can’t believe anyone would consider them sub-par. If I could write a piece as fine as “Big Blonde,” or as delightfully satirical as “Men I’m Not Married To,” or one as politically important as “Arrangement in Black and White,” a piece which skewers the passive racist in 1927, thirty years before the civil rights movement, I’d damn well consider myself a writer and an artist.
Because she didn’t publish a novel does not negate the fact that she was writing until the time of her death. Nor does it negate the quality of her work.
I’ll be so entertaining. We can discuss how sound ruined film. And furthermore, I drink Cosmopolitans. I think this should be taken into consideration. And let’s keep in mind that I am rooting for the next Eve Golden Biography to be of Kay Thompson. That should get me some obscure theater/film/literary points. Come on, lemmie in!
Ike, I bow to your appraisal of the situation. Let’s sit back. You deal and I’ll cut, and I won’t tell Lillian if Dashell comes in with a blond in tow and you don’t tell the USC football team if Clara Bow comes in with anyone.
Watch trying for the inside straights. Which Barrymore just walked in?
Another definite vote for Dorothy Parker. The women has always fascinated me. Her poem “Resume” sums up my basic philosphy.
Weird case of art imitating life imitating art (or something): Not only did Dorothy slash her wrists when her first husband left her, her second husband took care of her in a Norma Desmond-Joe Gillis type relationship right out of “Sunset Boulevard.” The second husband’s name was
Alan Campbell. The actor who played Joe Gillis in the Broadway run of the musical “Sunset Boulevard” was Alan Campbell.