Dorothy Parker was famously known as a wit in the 1920s, part of a stylish, sharp literary scene in New York. She is more of a versifier than a poet, as the simple rhymes of this book show. The enjoyment is the sharp wit, cynicism about love and about her experiences therein.
“Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.”
Most of the poems are longer than this. Some are straightforward examinations of love, but most have a sharp sting at the end. You endure the set-up in order to get to the punch line.
“Oh, is it, then, Utopian
To hope that I may meet a man
Who'll not relate, in accents suave,
The tales of girls he used to have?”
Ignoring the rhyme of 'suave' with 'have', this theme recurs: Lovers talking about previous lovers. One variation has Parker imploring her former (or current) lovers not to talk about her. But if I had Dorothy Parker as a former girlfriend, I would definitely talk about her!
There's a certain black humor in many of the poems:
“Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.”
There are a number of poems about beauty and appearance. One of the most famous of her poems is probably this little couplet:
“Men seldom make passes
At girls who wear glasses.”
This is a short book and easy to get through in an hour or so. If you want to imagine what it may have been like to spend a little time with her at the Algonquin Round Table, give it a look.