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On Parenting

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   
    They may not mean to, but they do.   
They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,   
Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
    And don’t have any kids yourself.
This poem is a parody of a homily; it tells a story, then finds a moral in that story. The story is that your parents do you damage, filling you with their own neuroses. With time, you can find compassion for your parents: After all, they are simply victims of their own parents, who were vicious and a mess. (And the viciousness and messiness were open secrets.)

The final stanza makes a leap to reflection/commentary: It's the rule of nature that damaged people will damage people, who will damage new people, and so on. The only logical lesson is this: It's best not to have any children, and to live in an isolated yurt, far, far from civilization. ("Get out as early as you can.") You get to decide whether or not Larkin's tone is ironic.

This well-loved poem became a title for Cathleen Schine, and it has a memorable role in "Succession," which satirizes the role of the faux-hip, faux-knowing therapist. (Of course this guy would quote Philip Larkin.) I also wonder if Sondheim has spent time with this poem; Sondheim, a victim of bad parenting, looks closely at parental hypocrisy and its impact in "Into the Woods." ("Careful the things you say: Children will listen.")

And that's my poem for Friday. Happy weekend!
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