Lauren Parker’s Dark Way Down takes readers on an evocative journey that blends personal exploration, mythology, and pop culture, tracing the footsteps of David Bowie’s enigmatic persona, the Thin White Duke. Inspired by Bowie’s 1976 album Station to Station, Parker reimagines the Duke’s journey, but this time, we follow his fictional daughter through a desolate and mystical desert landscape. The collection is an extraordinary interplay of identity, heritage, longing, and self-reinvention. It’s both hauntingly intimate and universal in its themes, posing questions about the weight of legacy, the search for identity, and the meaning of freedom.
In short, it’s brilliant.
Now, Station to Station just so happens to be one of my favourite albums too. It’s riddled with cocaine-fueled mysticism, mystical railroads, and the unmistakable Thin White Duke – a persona so dark, dapper and dangerous that it’s hard not to be captivated, if not slightly perturbed. As a concept it’s avant-garde and captures existential angst in such a sophisticated way – reminiscent of Parker’s exploration of self through the lens of The Duke’s daughter. Listening to Station to Station feels like riding an elegantly derailed train, with Bowie as the endlessly charismatic conductor. Reading Dark Way Down just means you’ve bought a ticket.
Bowie, himself of course, alludes to such a journey on the album Station to Station:
“Don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere…”
(Bowie, 1976 – Golden Years)
One of the key themes Parker explores is inheritance and legacy, especially in the context of identity and creative inspiration. The Duke’s daughter, who narrates much of the collection, is haunted by the spectre of her father:
“The duke is dead…he left me
Stardust to assemble together.”
(The Duke is Dead)
This inheritance is not just literal (the suit, the car) but spiritual and existential. The theme of transformation also underpins the narrative, highlighted within imagery like:
“press on my eyes until patterns bloom
like an acid trip”
(Attack of the T-Rex)
This conveys both a desire to change and the limitations of the physical body. Parker’s reimagining of myth and legacy is powerfully encapsulated when the narrator says:
“My daddy’s a demon & he can help us…
Look at this car he left me, look at this suit
Don’t I look like I can take care of you?”
(The Duke is Dead)
The inheritance of identity becomes both a burden and a tool for self-discovery.
Parker’s use of language and poetic devices display a bold and unconventional approach. Her language choices are both imaginative and bold, drawing readers into a raw and often surreal landscape. Her choices feel deliberate, designed to echo the erratic yet captivating energy of Bowie himself. For instance, Parker employs repetition effectively, especially with:
“I lay out in the desert
I lay out in the desert
I am alone”
(Lazarus)
This is re-emphasising the isolation of the protagonist in her pursuit of her father and her own sense of self. The collection’s diction often shifts between the lyrical and the harsh, oscillating between hope and despair. For example:
“Every spell I ever cast was about a girl
With a want so solid
Stony”
(Save Me, Saint Iggy)
This, of course, juxtaposes mystical imagery with a raw emotional grounding – a feature of Parker’s depth and vision.
One of the remarkable technical strengths of Dark Way Down is Parker’s use of gaps and spacing to convey meaning. In the poem “The Duke is Dead,” the disjointed visual presentation – words that seem to be falling down the page – mirrors the fragmented narrative of grappling with a father’s absence and the weight of the past. This visual spacing not only invites readers to reflect but also evokes the sense of instability and fragmentation that runs throughout the collection.
Motifs of the road, the desert, and mythical elements also permeate the collection, painting a vivid picture of a character in constant motion, yet struggling to find a true destination. The “rickety Chevelle from Bel Air to the Mesas of New Mexico” becomes a powerful symbol of the journey through memory and self-reconstruction. The desert, frequently referenced as a space of desolation but also transformation, reflects the protagonist’s psychological journey – a barren yet necessary place for self-discovery. The road becomes both a literal and figurative path where the daughter must navigate her inherited past, figure out her desires, and confront her fears. Parker is in complete control of this journey – a poet who lives inside their own words.
Parker also draws heavily on mythical imagery, repurposing symbols and archetypes to serve the narrative. The invocation of “Saint Iggy” and the parallels to Lazarus explore themes of rebirth, resurrection, and the possibility of transcendence through love, music, or chaos. Bowie’s persona is treated almost like a personal deity or demon – “Daddy was a Fascist” blurs the line between worship and rebellion, revealing a conflicted relationship with legacy.
Dark Way Down is powerful in its challenge to our prejudices and assumptions, particularly surrounding gender, sexuality, and fame. Parker’s narrator defies conventional femininity and familial expectations; instead of the stereotypical grieving daughter, she presents as an androgynous figure grappling with sexuality and a sense of self-worth beyond her father’s shadow. Lines like these challenge readers to reconsider the typical dynamics of protection, legacy, and gender roles:
“My daddy’s a demon & he can help us…
Don’t I look like I can take care of you?”
(The Duke is Dead)
Parker frequently employs repetition and fragmentation, both in form and content, to create a hypnotic effect. While some readers may find the recurrence of fragmented lines and layered metaphors challenging, the consistency of these devices effectively convey the protagonist’s turbulent mental state and the cyclical nature of her search. This approach is reminiscent of Bowie’s own fractured, avant-garde storytelling – Parker’s insistence on this repetition is not redundant; instead, it emphasises the relentless pursuit of something just out of reach.
Parker’s exploration of themes like legacy, transformation, and desire are both rich and multi-layered. The use of Bowie’s character as an anchor point for these themes allows Parker to dive into the complexities of identity in a creative and unconventional way. The desert and the pursuit of the Duke are evocative, though I couldn’t help but wonder how the daughter could reinvent herself after shedding her father’s influence – maybe this is the natural follow up? A deeper look into the protagonist’s sense of autonomy beyond her father would be a fascinating prospect, and an even more expansive conclusion to her journey.
It’s a pleasure to become a press-friend with Lauren after the publication of my own Disintegration in 2020 – it’s a press that takes great care of its authors and their work. In conclusion, Dark Way Down is an evocative and compelling collection that merges personal mythology, pop culture, and poetic experimentation. Parker’s use of language, motifs, and unconventional spacing crafts an atmosphere that is as unsettling as it is beautiful. The collection is a bold exploration of identity, legacy, and the pursuit of freedom. With vivid imagery, emotional depth, and an unapologetically fragmented form, Lauren Parker has crafted a collection that truly resonates with the chaos, beauty, and darkness of the human experience. The poems urge readers to rethink their preconceived notions of fame, identity, and gender roles, while offering a powerful commentary on inheritance and transformation. It’s a journey worth taking – one that feels as timeless and enigmatic as Bowie’s Station to Station itself.
After all …
“For my love is like
The wind
And wild is the wind
Wild is the wind”
(Tiomkin, D. (1957) – Wild Is The Wind)
Dark Way Down is out on February 4th 2025 on Animal Heart Press
References
Bowie, D. (1976) Golden Years. On Station to Station [Vinyl]. Los Angeles, CA: RCA Records.
Tiomkin, D. (1957) Wild Is The Wind. On Wild Is The Wind [Soundtrack]. Los Angeles, CA: Capitol Records.
Bowie, D. (1976) Wild Is The Wind. On Station to Station [Vinyl]. Los Angeles, CA: RCA Records.
Nature poetry. For too long, it’s been the domain of soft-focus sentimentality: predictable scenes of meadows, rivers, and, yes, even gliding gulls.
As 2024 draws to a close, it’s impossible not to marvel at how much has been accomplished in just one year. This
Call for Submissions: Glow: City at Night Poems The Broken Spine is excited to announce that submissions for our latest slimline anthology,
The Broken Spine is a poetry and arts collective proudly published on the coastal edge of North-West England. Founded in 2019 by Alan Parry and Paul Robert Mullen – two school friends reunited after twenty years through a mutual love of poetry.
