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NED KELLY |
REVIEW
Wilde Child
Oscar
Wilde's niece was almost lost to history until a playwright found
her.
by
STEFFEN SILVIS
ssilvis@wweek.com
Dorothy "Dolly"
Wilde was more than just the niece of Oscar Wilde--in many ways
she was his double. She bore a striking resemblance to Oscar, so
much so that she occasionally dressed as him, and would go by the
name of "Oscaria." She possessed a rapier wit and quick mind, and
she shared her uncle's taste for partners of the same sex. And her
life ended as his; she even died at the same age as her uncle. But
she died, according to her biographer, Joan Schenkar, as she lived:
"vividly, rather violently, and at a very good address."
"It took me
five years to write this book," Schenkar told WW. "I literally
had to produce someone from thin air." Wilde was one of the principal
bodies that orbited around Natalie Barney and her extraordinary
literary salon in early-20th-century Paris. Wilde played "second
lover" to Barney, after artist Romaine Brooks, and befriended and
fought with such sapphic luminaries as Janet Flanner and Djuna Barnes.
But unlike her peers, Dolly Wilde wrote nothing but letters, leaving
her to become a vibrant footnote at the bottom of published lives.
"I couldn't bear that someone as vital as Dolly could so easily
vanish from history," said Schenkar, "and I reject the notion that
she wasn't an artist. She was." Schenkar began to track down the
last surviving members of Barney's world to record their memories
of Dolly before they were consigned to the grave.
Schenkar was
the perfect choice for bringing life back to Dolly Wilde, and not
only because she wields a sharp wit of her own. A noted experimental
playwright (who still hasn't been produced in bucolic Portland),
Schenkar intuitively understands the great theatricality in Dolly's
character. "She was the opposite of her uncle in this: She loved
to entertain small audiences," Schenkar says, "which, as an experimental
playwright, I fully appreciate. My favorite audience is a hundred
people."
As for not leaving
a body of work behind except letters, Schenkar makes a valuable
argument for Dolly's legacy. She equates her gifts to the work of
an inspired cook, serving wit "as a matter of course, on the material
at hand, and with some of the cruelty and brio for which cooks are
known."
Those familiar
with Schenkar's plays know that she often rifles history, giving
new voices to historical characters. Everyone from Hitler to Barthes
to P.T. Barnum has led a new life on Schenkar's stage. Even Barney
was transformed in Schenkar's Between the Act. But in writing
Dolly's biography, Schenkar experienced something new. "Rather than
me speaking through Dolly, it felt as if she was using me to speak
through," Schenkar admits. "A strange experience."
"Dolly gave
me five great years," says Schenkar, and Shenkar has, in turn, given
readers an excellent tour of a lost epoch.
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