Short Reading Response for “Middle or Blue Period” by Dorothy Parker

My first thought when reading this essay turned out to be my second, and fourth thought as well. That being, this is the spiritual forebear of the Seinfeld television show. Not much happens. Parker uses allusion to describe what it feels like to become middle aged by way of sidelong glances, pleas and rant. She talks to herself about the subject, and sometimes talks instead to the embodiment of middle age using italicized text.

I was prepared to write it off quickly as an interesting diversion, because the style and subject seem so familiar. I suppose that would be unfair. Ruminations of middle-age accompanied by striations of sorrow, acceptance and renewed rejection may be commonplace, but Parker helped open the door to this type of writing and it is well done. Perhaps, it could be described as an extended soliloquy to oneself, and by virtue of publication, to the reader as well. If I hadn't read so many similar things to this piece, I would be more enthusiastic.

The writing is very stream of consciousness, which means it must find a resonance in its audience. Some people dislike this kind of writing, period. Not myself, I like it. I indulge in it as well. For some reason, this piece resonates incompletely with me. It vibrates like a fly against a window, or wax paper rustling with the wind as a door opens in a butcher shop, something that was more common in Dorothy's time and place than here in Madison circa 2008.

It is a lament whose refrain reappears throughout her text, but in different guises. In the first paragraph, she says, “Like a hole in the head I need another birthday.” This is not cryptic, but I can relate to it. Later, she pleads with the personification of middle-age, “...Please, just another minute...I can't quite...” In all ways other than in certain aspects of understanding and emotional maturity, getting older sucks. On the other hand, I am trying to make progress in my life, and dwelling on aging is the last thing that I need to engage in. That explains some of my lack of enthusiasm for this essay.

One thing I do like about this essay, which also applies to other things Parker has written is that she is a woman who wrote under the heavy shadow of patriarchy. This is not so much a matter of style, as it is an acknowledgment of character. She didn't shut up and sit quietly despite society's insistence that she do so. One of the dispatcher's at the cab shop where I work makes an announcement that invokes the same feeling. Sometimes, when he gives an address on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, rather than using the completely acceptable abbreviation of MLK, he will make a long name even longer by adding the appropriate honorifics. So we hear, “There's a call at Doty Street and The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard.”

My chest swells with rare pride. Those extra words convey something that our society often minimizes. I could give a rat's ass whether someone calls themselves a doctor or reverend. I tired of using those titles years ago. But, I know what the words “The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior” mean to me, and I'm happy to hear and say them. I get a little of the same feeling when I hear the words Senator Barack Obama. And I feel the importance of Dorothy Parker. I wish she were here to offer some perspective on Hilary Clinton. I have a feeling Parker would be choking as viscerally on Hilary's dissembling nature as I am. I want people of all descriptions to look to as examples, but the mere fact of their difference is not enough. And not everything they produce has the same effect on me. Parker's essay, “The Middle or Blue Period” comes from an inspiring source, but does little for me. It's not bad. In fact, it's good. But to draw me into a state of excitation, I need more than that.