Andy Borowitz’s “Emily Dickinson, Jerk of Amherst”

From The New Yorker's archive: Andy Borowitz's wry satire.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences     Shouts & Murmurs Emily Dickinson, Jerk of Amherst To many who would read my book, Miss Dickinson was a cherished literary icon, and any attempt to describe her in human terms would, understandably, be resented. By Andy Borowitz The humorist Andy Borowitz is a prolific purveyor of wry satire. He's probably best known for the Borowitz Report, a daily-news lampoon column for The New Yorker, for which he was previously awarded the inaugural National Press Club award for humor, in 2004. But before launching his column, he was a regular contributor of humor pieces to the magazine. In 1998, he published "Emily Dickinson, Jerk of Amherst," his second Shouts & Murmurs piece. In the sketch, Borowitz presents an exposé of the "real" Emily Dickinson, the renowned poet and his friend and mentor. It was a privilege to know her, he observes, except on those frequent occasions when she became belligerent and irascible. "At the party, Miss Dickinson sat alone at the bar, doing tequila shooters and riffing moribund, angry couplets that often did not scan. I sensed that it was time to take her home. In the parking lot, she stopped abruptly near [Ralph Waldo] Emerson's car. 'Let's key it,' she said, her eyes dancing maniacally," he writes. Delivering a dry take on the enduring trend of literary exposés, Borowitz gives the phenomenon a historical-fiction twist. It's a light piece that skewers the notion of the confessional memoir and the all too common lionization of literary icons. As Dickinson goes on a rampage through the town of Amherst, Borowitz's narrator calmly reflects on the lessons he's learned from his idol. Perhaps, with her frequent tirades, she was giving him a gift—the ability to create his own singular voice. At the very least, he muses, he will have come away from his friendship with the poet with a most valuable literary souvenir: "a rhyme for 'Nantucket.' "   —Erin Overbey, archive editor More from the Archive     Shouts & Murmurs Mouse Au Vin From 2009: I've chosen him for his serious and restrained demeanor—among the other rodents, he keeps to himself. By Noah Baumbach     Daily Shouts Sell Out: Part One From 2013: One day at work I fall into brine and they close the lid above me. When the lid is finally opened, everybody is dressed strange. By Simon Rich You're receiving this e-mail because you signed up for the New Yorker Classics newsletter. Was this e-mail forwarded to you? Sign up.   Unsubscribe | Manage your e-mail preferences | Send newsletter feedback | View our privacy policy    The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products and services that are purchased through links in our newsletters as part of our affiliate partnerships with retailers.    Copyright © Condé Nast 2021. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.