Voices from the fringes: Things I think are nice

No one—but no one—could turn a phrase like Dorothy Parker. That woman could pack more venom into a single couplet than anyone who’s ever picked up a pen. Born Dorothy Rothschild in 1893, Parker was part of the creative explosion in New York after World War I. Poet, critic, playwright, screenwriter; she was one of the linchpins of the Round Table at the Algonquin Hotel. She could drink most of the men under that table and never lose a battle of wits.

Parker was also a human rights activist: against fascism and racism, for civil rights and decency. At her death in 1967, she bequeathed her estate to Martin Luther King, Jr.

Much of Parker’s poetry is self-deprecating, particularly with respect to her disappointments in love. (If you’ve been diagnosed with depression, you really want to stay away from her short stories. They’re beautifully written, but they’ll gut you like a fish knife.) Here’s one that’s a little more defiant; if I had to choose a personal anthem, this would be it.

“Neither Bloody nor Bowed”

They say of me, and so they should,
It's doubtful if I come to good.
I see acquaintances and friends
Accumulating dividends,
And making enviable names
In science, art, and parlor games.
But I, despite expert advice,
Keep doing things I think are nice,
And though to good I never come-
Inseparable my nose and thumb!