{"id":94714,"date":"2016-02-18T15:14:59","date_gmt":"2016-02-18T20:14:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=94714"},"modified":"2016-02-19T13:10:02","modified_gmt":"2016-02-19T18:10:02","slug":"mrs-parker-and-the-pink-object","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/02\/18\/mrs-parker-and-the-pink-object\/","title":{"rendered":"Mrs. Parker and the Pink Object"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-94715 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/nypl.digitalcollections.510d47df-34d1-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.001.w-e1455824195764.jpg\" alt=\"nypl.digitalcollections.510d47df-34d1-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.001.w\" width=\"600\" height=\"606\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/nypl.digitalcollections.510d47df-34d1-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.001.w-e1455824195764.jpg 600w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/nypl.digitalcollections.510d47df-34d1-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.001.w-e1455824195764-297x300.jpg 297w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>At the time of this interview, Mrs. Parker was living in a midtown New York hotel. She shared her small apartment with a youthful poodle that had the run of the place and had caused it to look, as Mrs. Parker said apologetically, somewhat \u201cHogarthian\u201d: newspapers spread about the floor, picked lamb chops here and there, and a rubber doll\u2014its throat torn from ear to ear\u2014which Mrs. Parker lobbed left-handed from her chair into corners of the room for the poodle to retrieve\u2014as it did, never tiring of the opportunity. The room was sparsely decorated, its one overpowering fixture being a large dog portrait, not of the poodle, but of a sheepdog owned by the author Philip Wylie, and painted by his wife. The portrait indicated a dog of such size that if it were real, would have dwarfed Mrs. Parker, who was a small woman, her voice gentle, her tone often apologetic, but occasionally, given the opportunity to comment on matters she felt strongly about, she spoke almost harshly, and her sentences were punctuated with observations phrased with lethal force.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p>That description comes from the introduction to\u00a0<a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/interviews\/4933\/the-art-of-fiction-no-13-dorothy-parker\" target=\"_blank\">Dorothy Parker\u2019s 1956\u00a0<em>Paris Review<\/em>\u00a0Art of Fiction interview<\/a>, a document of unusual (sometimes harsh) honesty, and great humor. I&#8217;ve always tried to envision that scene: the writer, battling depression and alcoholism, her career (to her eyes) in twilight\u2014and so was fascinated to run across <a href=\"http:\/\/digitalcollections.nypl.org\/items\/510d47df-34d1-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99\" target=\"_blank\">this snapshot<\/a> in the New York Public Library\u2019s digital archive. It pictures Parker\u2014petite, with signature chignon and bangs\u2014in a distinctly midcentury room, seated on a dun-colored sofa with two poodles. Before her on a marbled coffee table is a fairly hideous arrangement made up at least in part of dried eucalyptus stems, which puts the viewer in the unusual position of being able to imagine the smell of the scene: eucalyptus and dog, with hints of coffee. (I assume coffee, rather than tea, although feel free to disagree.) The only real mystery\u2014besides where she is, and who took the picture\u2014concerns the pink plush thing on the stack of magazines. Hat? Chew toy?\u00a0<em>Lamb Chop<\/em>? But then, as Parker herself wrote in <em>Esquire<\/em> in 1959, \u201cIn all reverence I say Heaven bless the Whodunit, the soothing balm on the wound, the cooling hand on the brow, the opiate of the people.\u201d Update: a colleague feels strongly that it is a bedroom slipper \u201cfilled with either dog food or gold coins,\u201d\u00a0possibly the chocolate Hanukah kind.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-94717\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/screen-shot-2016-02-18-at-2.38.06-pm.png\" alt=\"Screen Shot 2016-02-18 at 2.38.06 PM\" width=\"300\" height=\"267\" \/><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>Sadie Stein is contributing editor of\u00a0<\/em>The Paris Review,<em>\u00a0and the\u00a0<\/em>Daily<em>\u2019s correspondent.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>At the time of this interview, Mrs. Parker was living in a midtown New York hotel. She shared her small apartment with a youthful poodle that had the run of the place and had caused it to look, as Mrs. Parker said apologetically, somewhat \u201cHogarthian\u201d: newspapers spread about the floor, picked lamb chops here and [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1188],"tags":[1016,1052,5023,12919,21212],"class_list":["post-94714","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-from-the-archive","tag-art-of-fiction","tag-dogs","tag-dorothy-parker","tag-mysteries","tag-poodles"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Dorothy Parker\u2019s House<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"What&#039;s that pink thing in Dorothy Parker\u2019s house?\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/02\/18\/mrs-parker-and-the-pink-object\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Mrs. Parker and the Pink Object by Sadie Stein\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"February 18, 2016 \u2013 At the time of this interview, Mrs. Parker was living in a midtown New York hotel. She shared her small apartment with a youthful poodle that had the run\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/02\/18\/mrs-parker-and-the-pink-object\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2016-02-18T20:14:59+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2016-02-19T18:10:02+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/nypl.digitalcollections.510d47df-34d1-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.001.w-e1455824195764.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"600\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"606\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Sadie Stein\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" 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