Dear Mr. You
Like A Prayer Bell
I’ll admit when I picked up Dear Mr. You I had low expectations, despite its impressive marketing campaign. I loved Mary-Louise Parker’s intelligence and rapid fire wit in the West Wing (whenever she was on) and every episode of Weeds (except possibly the last one, but endings are tricky).
Come on, she’s an actor, not a writer, right?
(I am deeply, personally acquainted with this sentiment. When I tell people who know me as a doctor that I’m a writer, I get polite, strangled smiles. I’ve been told, “Well I hope it’s a release for you” as if I’m in some type of medical jail. Thanks - but not what I was going for...)
Dear Mr. You is a series of letters to a motley crew of men in Ms. Parker’s life. There are lovers, a taxi driver, an oyster picker, her son and her dying father. Her letters veer from raucously funny to stingingly honest to deeply poignant. There are many kinds of nakedness and Ms. Parker shows deep courage in revealing herself with wrinkles, warts and demons. (And I know naked - I’m an OB/GYN.)
In one letter, Ms. Parker tells a story of being hangry (hungry/angry) late one evening after a long day of arguing with a soon-to-be-former boyfriend. Riding his Harley up the Ventura highway, they are repeatedly thwarted in their attempt to find an open Mexican restaurant. When they finally get food, her lover reaches across his own plate to eat ALL of the guacamole from hers - AND HE HAS HIS OWN GUACAMOLE. She is so overwrought, she has an out of body experience and stabs his hand with her fork. Her descriptions are snort-Mexican-soda-out-of-your-nose funny. I would’ve poster her bail.
Ms. Parker’s surprising literary voice sounds like prayer bells I’ve heard in temples in Thailand - pure, clear notes that vibrate with the divine. She has fought hard, sometimes with ugly beasts, for the truths she shares. Her words are stripped down and shiveringly honest - are a rare gift to her readers. Her dad was right (as most dads are) when he told her she should keep writing. I hope she does.