The Portable Dorothy Parker (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) | 
 enlarge | Author: Dorothy Parker
Creator: Marion Meade
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Category: Book
List Price: $18.00
Buy New: $9.24
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Avg. Customer Rating:  13 reviews
Sales Rank: 28141
Media: Paperback
Edition: Deluxe
Number Of Items: 1
Pages: 640
Shipping Weight (lbs): 1.8
Dimensions (in): 8.3 x 5.5 x 1.8
ISBN: 0143039539
Dewey Decimal Number: 818.5209
EAN: 9780143039532
ASIN: 0143039539
Publication Date: March 28, 2006
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
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Product Description
The second revision in sixty years, this sublime collection ranges over the verse, stories, essays, and journalism of one of the twentieth centurys most quotable authors.
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| Customer Reviews: Read 8 more reviews...
 Parker in not-so-portable form March 16, 2008
1 out of 1 found this review helpful
As I read The Portable Dorothy Parker, I thought of the short stories of John Cheever. Although many of their stories are set in about the same boozy time period, Cheever's focus is often the suburban family man who has everything the successful American male should--and who still finds that life is elusive, even wanting and empty. Parker's tales are primarily of the urban woman, some rich, some poor, rarely satisfied, never happy. In some ways, Cheever's man and Parker's woman live in the same void, although not at the same comfort level.
In Parker's world, as in Cheever's, the sexes seem to be at cross purposes, unable to communicate openly and hoping to hint their way to understanding. When the girl in "The Sexes" says, "There isn't a thing on earth the matter. I don't know what you mean," the young man, along with the reader, must be able to guess at the nature of the conversation that is about to follow and its inevitable outcome--including the final, "I was not sore! What on earth made you think I was?" Parker's keen ear and sense of timing make even the dated dialogue and references relevant today.
"Lady with a Lamp" requires only monologue to reveal the actions, sufferings, and feelings of the silent Mona, whose garrulous friend observes her every move and expression and yet is oblivious to the depth of Mona's pain.
In many stories, Parker relies on monologue and dialogue to reveal the truth underneath the words, which mean nothing. In "Arrangement in Black and White," the more the "woman with pink velvet poppies" asserts her colorblindness, the deeper her racism is revealed to be. She can say sincerely both, "You know, so many colored people, you give them an inch, and they walk all over you," followed by, "I haven't any feelings at all because he's a colored man" without seeing any hypocrisy.
For "Big Blonde," perhaps Parker's best-known story, she uses a narrative approach. Like Hazel Morse, the reader becomes lost in an ill-defined haze of men and alcohol. "She was always pleased to have him come and never sorry to see him go" sums up Hazel's meaningless relationships and life. Parker captures the American obsession with the show of happiness and the burying of genuine emotions in the constant exhortations to "slip us a little smile"--an effort that requires alcohol to sustain. Even the maid responds to Hazel's suicide attempt with, "You cheer up, now."
In some ways, the title character of "Mr. Durant" evokes Cheever. An insignificant and complaisant business- and family man leads a double life for which he pays no consequences. Women are to be used until they threaten the security and comfort of his position, yet his actions toward the stray dog his children find reveal that he sees himself as the victim. His "peace with the world" is more important than anything, including people.
Parker is a literal writer who seems to avoid the type of symbolism that makes Cheever's "The Swimmer" so powerful. This lack of literary and psychological stretching may have kept her from achieving her dream--writing a novel, which she believed was necessary for a writer to be taken seriously by both the literary establishment and the reading public. Her failure did not prevent her from being a harsh critic, and The Portable Dorothy Parker includes rather flippant dismissals of novels by Theodore Dreiser, Booth Tarkington, and others.
Parker despises whimsy and fantasy, including the works of J. M. ("Never-Grow-Up") Barrie and A. A. Milne ("And it is that word, 'hummy,' my darlings, that marks the first place in The House at Pooh Corner at which Tonstant Weader Fwowed up"). One wonders what she thought of the more adult efforts of her British contemporary, J. R. R. Tolkien.
If Parker cannot say anything positive about another writer's work, however, she sarcastically praises the book itself. ". . . it is brought out by the Grove Press in a most pleasing form--a small book with excellent print and paper, and hard covers, though not of cloth."
Parker's poetry reflects her no-nonsense, stark view of love and life (and death); there's little romanticism here. "Unfortunate Coincidence" ("Lady, make a note of this:/One of you is lying") is compact blend of eroticism and cynicism; "Faute de Mieux" reveals a rare wistfulness ("I never said they feed my heart"); and "Fighting Words" ("But say my verses do not scan,/And I get me another man!") shows what she believes her priorities to be, although Enough Rope's many suicidal and death-wish poems lead the reader to another conclusion. While Parker often stretches a rhyme, rhythm, or literary device to the breaking point, her verse is often painfully personal and evocative.
Already hefty, Dorothy Parker is made less portable by the addition of "A Dorothy Parker Sampler," random ephemera that includes letters. Most of these are not highlights of the Parker canon and could have been left out. The one exception is a long letter to Robert Benchley, written from Switzerland. Parker reveals heartfelt compassion for her friends and their sick children as well as her own anguish over a dead love affair ("I honestly don't know where John leaves off and I begin."). It's a rare glimpse into Parker's heart that isn't obscured by sarcasm and wit.
Parker's straightforward, surface style can detract from the darkness of her subject matter. As Marion Meade notes, Parker had a "capacity for listening and watching with amazing clarity." If only Parker had been willing to dig a little deeper, she might be remembered as a successful novelist rather than as a wit--a label she despised.
 My How You've Groan March 1, 2008
2 out of 2 found this review helpful
Bless you Penquin Books and Marion Meade for rehabilitating this must-own book, and presenting us with such value and quality. I bought two copies, and gifted the second to a friend...he is a virgin to Mrs. Parker, about which if she were still with us would have done something to fix that. I now call it The No Longer Portable Dorothy Parker, which is merely teasing my dear, old friend. What? Are you still the same size you were in 1973? The new edition is, in truth, eminently portable, no bigger than any modern book. In page count, the book has increased but slightly from 610 to 627 pages. But by weight and size substantially more so than my aged and yellowed, and quite fragile 1973 edition which I must safely tuck away in some acid-free box. The new edition now fits comfortably, feels even warm in the hands. The uncredited book designer's choices of clear typeface, wide leading, and creamy, dense paper stock ease the reading considerably on these old jaunticed eyes. The old paperback had tiny little typeface, dense composition, and paper just about as thin and see-through as pages in the old family bible. (Perhaps "a French negligee" would have been better there, but I don't want to lead you astray.) The nice paper in the new book, a sturdy binding, with a cockled leading edge prove this is a quality book. I only wish the editor would have added a new subtitle while she was at it: My How You've Groan. Mrs. Parker, I'd wager, would have adored this new edition (at least secretly). The incisive cover art by the graphic artist Seth is brilliant. To Marion Meade (a Parker biographer), and to the production team with Penquin Books: Thank you for this beautiful book. Having gifted us with her Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This (Penguin, 1989), Meade's care and attention to this new edition, and the added material in particular, are insight realized. And it's damn funny all around through and through.
Portable Dorothy Parker February 22, 2008
This hefty compendium of short stories, magazine articles, and poems all handpicked by the author proves that Dorothy Parker was an accomplished writer and not just a witty celebrity.
My Favorite Writer!! December 11, 2007
1 out of 1 found this review helpful
I was turned on to Dorothy Parker in my English class in eighth grade. And when I read some of the stories/poems in this portable book, I was cracking up in hilarity. Her stories are quite funny, but some (The Standard Of Living) send out very good messages that are quite enjoyable for anyone of every age.
This is a wonderful book, and if you like funny reads, this is perfect for you.
 Get the earlier edition, if you can find it August 16, 2007
5 out of 5 found this review helpful
I'm one of those who, like some other reviewers, has worn out at least three copies of the earlier edition and found this one to be the only new one available. It's not as good as the earlier one.
Although some of the new materials are welcome, many of the insightful and very funny reviews from the last third of the book are missing in this version. What happened to the review of Sinclair Lewis's _The Man Who Knew Coolidge_, "Mr. Lewis Lays It on with a Trowel," which gives a portrait of the age as well as an accurate, if savage, picture of the book? Or the hilarious review of Lou Tellegen's _Women Have Been Kind_? ("Mr. Tellegen is one who kisses, among other things, and tells.")
Those aren't reviews of "dusty tomes," as one reviewer put it, but significant articles for those interested in Parker or twentieth-century literature.
In short, some of the strongest material has been deleted. Those who want to see the real genius of Parker's work need to purchase the earlier edition, too.
Edited to correct an error: The statement attributed to Tellegen above, which I'd included from memory, is actually from "An American Du Barry," a review of Warren G. Harding's mistress Nan Britton's account of her affair with Harding.
From the review: "The book bears the subtitle _Revealing the Love-Secret of President Harding_, which is but a mild statement. For when Miss Britton gets around to revealing, Lord, how she does reveal. She is one who kisses, among other things, and tells. An attempt was made to suppress the book. The author states, in one of her prefaces, that 'six burly policemen' (on the day that that man bites that dog, another front-age item is going to concern a policeman who is not burly) 'and John S. Sumner, agent for the Society for the Suppression of Vice, armed with a 'Warrant of Search and Seizure,' entered the printing plant where the making of the book was in process. They seized and carried off the plates and printed sheets.' 'Lady,' you want to say to the author, 'those weren't policemen; they were critics of literature dressed up.'"
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