How to be Boring: A Short Guide Courtesy of Dorothy Parker and Sinclair Lewis

This week, I’ll forgo my usual wordy and overwrought blog posts that begin ambitiously enough and never really live up to their true potential. Instead, I have only one thing to say, as a kind of public service announcement to the world:

If you want to sound boring and/or dull, just repeat everything someone says back to them.

Both Dorothy Parker and Sinclair Lewis agree. Take, for instance, Such a Pretty Little Picture. I’ll transcribe the conversation that occurs between Mrs. Wheelock and Mrs. Coles, which should properly illustrate the epitome of dreadfully dull conversation:

Mrs. Coles: Fred and I are taking a little constitutional before supper.
Mrs. Wheelock: Oh, taking a little constitutional?
Mrs. Coles: Yes, just taking a little constitutional before supper.

In just three lines, both characters have firmly established that neither have a shred of personality among them. It’s quite efficient, really. In three short lines, I as the reader know that I would never, under any circumstances want to talk to either of these two boring ladies. It usually takes at least a few hours before one can really judge a person like that, but to find a way to speed along that process of dislike and personal scorn is commendable.

Sinclair Lewis’ Babbitt is full of awkward and tedious conversations such as this, and Babbitt is the very embodiment of a boring and dull personality. Here is one good example in Chapter 3 when Babbitt discusses politics with Littlefield, his neighbor:

Babbitt: Say, old man, what do you think about the Republican candidate? Who’ll they nominate for President? Don’t you think it’s about time we had a real business administration?
Littlefield: In my opinion, what the country needs, first and foremost, is a good, sound, business-like conduct of its affairs. What we need is – a business administration!
Babbitt: I’m glad to hear you say that! I certainly am glad to hear you say that! I didn’t know how you’d felt about it, with all your associations with colleges and so on, and I’m glad you feel that way. What the country needs – just at this present juncture – is neither a college president nor a lot of monkeying with foreign affairs, but a good – sound – economical – business – administration…

This example is less efficient than Parker’s, but it balances this out by being even more awkward and boring. It takes us longer to get there, but we’re positive by the end that neither of these gentlemen would be interesting to hold a conversation with.

This is a simple and effective way, as both Lewis and Parker prove, to characterize someone as dull. Not necessarily unlikable, but mind-numbingly boring (for better or worse). It’s put to good use throughout Parker’s work and throughout Babbitt, providing further support for this claim.

In short, if you enjoy having a social life and friends, do everything in your power to avoid absolutely anything and everything resembling either of the conversations presented above.

Good luck.

Hazel Morse, meet Gloria Patch. Gloria, Hazel. You two should get along just fine.

One can’t read Dorothy Parker’s Big Blonde without seeing flashes of Gloria Patch throughout the entire piece. Hazel Morse, with the exception of the attempted suicide and various suitors after her husband leaves her, is strikingly similar to Fitzgerald’s Gloria. So similar, in fact, that the same images I visualized for the settings of Beautiful and Damned were the very same that came to mind when reading Big Blonde. Now, this may be a case of my brain just being lazy and unwilling to create a unique world for Hazel to exist within, but I like to think it is not a coincidence.
In fact, I wouldn’t consider it too much of a stretch to imagine Big Blonde as a close retelling of Beautiful and Damned from the perspective of Gloria instead of Anthony. The way they are introduced is especially similar, and their attitudes towards the men around them cinches this concept of their relation to each other. It’s extremely interesting to go from Beautiful and Damned to Big Blonde, because knowledge and experience in one invariably adds to the other a great deal. Fitzgerald does a fine job characterizing Gloria, but it’s more often than not seen through the tinted goggles of Anthony (for better or worse). With Big Blonde, however, we get a close look at what it means to be a “vamp,” a depressed and alcoholic one at that, which is something we just didn’t get in Beautiful and Damned.
It’s actually worth noting that upon finishing Fitzgerald’s novel, I was completely satisfied with Gloria’s role in the story and how she turned out in the end. After reading Parker’s work, however, it becomes apparent that Gloria got off far too easy. Hazel Morse comes off as a much more realistic interpretation of what women who lived the lifestyle that both she and Gloria lived. Fitzgerald seems to forget Gloria’s issues at the end, having her clean herself up and be the responsible one, leaving Anthony to fall apart emotional and mentally. Sure, she is described as “unclean,” but she escapes the story with at least some dignity. Hazel Morse, however, does not. She awakens, having failed at killing herself and then gets scolded for taking her life for granted. Even the doctor seems to think that her life is a waste of effort, having to be pulled away from another woman to even see her. In a way, this seems like the ending Gloria should have received herself. Granted, Hazel Morse had it a bit worse than Gloria, but I still feel that Gloria got off too easy and the fate of Hazel brings this fact into light.
I do not mean to take up this whole blog arguing about whether Gloria or Hazel had a worse life or which character I liked more. I just felt it was necessary to bring their apparent similarities to light. So what, then, does this mean? Why does it matter that Gloria and Hazel are similar?
The most important concept I pulled from this is the simple fact that it proves the authenticity of both Parker’s and Fitzgerald’s rendition of the 1920s woman. Two authors, so very different in a great many ways, interpreted two different characters in a very similar fashion, so there must be some truth behind it. I understand that it’s not a coincidence that we are reading these two stories so close to each other, but I must reiterate how much they complement each other. I enjoyed them both individually, but together they speak volumes more and with greater authority than they ever could have on their own.

What's the Point, Fitz?

Call me what you will, but a Fitzgerald hater I am not. In fact, I love F. Scott Fitzgerald. I would defend his works to the grave, either with actual intellectual argument or, if necessary, with petty name-calling and stubborn refusals to concede any adversarial points.
I say all of this only to contextualize how hard it is for me to admit that I have no idea what Fitzgerald was going for with The Beautiful and Damned. The Great Gatsby, for example, spoke volumes about the apparent hollowness of aristocratic society and the absolute perversion of the American Dream. The entirety of Fitzgerald’s prose in the case of Gatsby builds upon these two ideas. When the reader had made his or her way through the story, they can feel as if they’ve learned something, even if that something is nothing more than Fitzgerald’s views on the world and culture he so immersed himself in. With The Beautiful and Damned, however, it’s a different story.
The problem seems to stem, at least from my point of view, from the fact that the different characters within the story seem to be giving different (and in some ways contradictory) messages. Every time there seems to be a chance for Fitzgerald to make a real statement, different characters seem to make arguments for both sides. This will be a whole lot easier to explain using actual examples from the book, so here are a few (but definitely not all) of them:

Cynicism Towards Life: Anthony and Maury are two characters that could very well have allowed Fitzgerald to comment on this idea of cynicism (or alternatively passion) towards life. These two are introduced as cynical, especially in relation to Dick, who is relatively passionate and sentimental. However, Anthony and Maury go in two separate directions. Anthony has his tragic fall and Maury becomes wealthy and happy. Both are cynical, so Fitzgerald can’t be making a comment on this issue (or, if he is, it isn’t a very strong or generalized one).

Shallowness of the Aristocracy: If The Beautiful and Damned only concerned Anthony and Gloria, this may have been a very powerful theme. Unfortunately, there are just too many other characters who also have wealth that fare much better than Mr. and Mrs. Patch. Maury, for one, and also Dick, Bloeckman, etc. Not only do these characters find prosperity, but they seem to be very levelheaded and mature. Surely Fitzgerald couldn’t be commenting on this common theme of his, or else this shallowness would have been extended to all those with wealth.

Importance of Work: Anthony and Gloria both seem to consider being lazy an admirable virtue, which is obviously a backwards ideal (or so we are led to believe in contemporary society), so could this be what Fitzgerald is aiming at? Again, if he is, his other characters seem to undermine this assertion. Maury’s vocational endeavors are glossed over, condensed to only one or two sentences, and Muriel never seems to get a job herself, and yet they both turn out fine.

Futility of Material Wealth and Beauty: This was, during my reading, something I looked for a lot, as it seems a fine fit for a story like this. All of the parties, preening, and arrogance of Anthony and Gloria becomes moot later in life as their money begins to disappear. In fact, the pursuit of money seems to be a major cause of tension in the Patch household, especially after they find out that Adam Patch has removed them from his will. Strangely, this pursuit of wealth is validated in the final pages of the book when the inheritance is given to Anthony and Gloria. All of their laziness and partying is given a completely undeserved pat on the head (so to speak) in this moment. It’s a strange choice by Fitzgerald, to say the least.

Obviously, I’m generalizing in some of the above examples, but what the list does provide is proof that Fitzgerald seems to wander from (potential) argument to argument without really providing solid support for either side. The last argument is, admittedly, the most likely candidate for Fitzgerald’s main theme. Even though they do receive the inheritance, the fruitless pursuit of money and beauty has made them “unclean” in the eyes of others. The journey has left them hallow shells of their former selves, though again, there are other characters who counter this argument. Bloeckman, again, and Dick come to mind (both pursue success and fortune and attain it without “losing their souls,” so to speak).
If one were to combine some of these potential themes, some truth might make its way to forefront. Perhaps, then, the real message of the story is that “Without honest work, the pursuit of material wealth is a nearly impossible endeavor.” This seems to be something that Fitzgerald’s work here could support. But even this is not without counterexamples in the story.
I don’t mean to pick on Fitzgerald or The Beautiful and Damned. I liked the book and (as I explained at the beginning) I love the Fitz. It’s just that this story seems rather sloppy compared to some of his other works. I’m sure others will disagree with me on this last point. Perhaps I just misinterpreted some pivotal scene and the story’s theme is much more apparent than I make it appear. All I know is that, as a Fitzgerald fan, I was ultimately disappointed by the weak moral argument that The Beautiful and Damned presents to its reader.