This was my first time reading (or in this case, listening to) The Portable Dorothy Parker, and it wasn’t quite what I expected—in the best way. I had always associated Parker with biting one-liners and clever poems about love gone sour, but what I found here was something deeper, darker, and far more layered.
Yes, the famous poems are all present and sharp as ever. “Résumé,” for example, somehow manages to be grim, funny, and unsettling all at once. Her verse captures emotional exhaustion with a lilt, and even when the poems are slight, they’re undeniably memorable. But it was the short stories that really caught me off guard.
Big Blonde is the standout for me—a quietly devastating portrait of a woman drowning in societal expectations and her own sense of inertia. Parker never moralizes, never preaches. She just holds up a mirror, and it’s often uncomfortable to look into. Stories like Arrangement in Black and White and The Custard Heart dig into class, race, and hypocrisy with a lightness of touch that makes their commentary all the more cutting.
There’s a sense throughout these works that Parker knew the performance required of women all too well: the polite smiles, the romantic deference, the internal war between what’s expected and what’s felt. And while some of the stories are very much of their time—The Telephone Call or Here We Are, for example—the emotions underneath still resonate.
What I appreciated most was Parker’s refusal to give readers easy conclusions. Her characters aren’t redeemed or condemned—they just are. Messy, anxious, performative, and human.
The Penguin Deluxe Edition (with additional writings curated by her biographer Marion Meade) offers even more depth through later stories and correspondence, but even the original 1944 core of this collection is impressive in its range and tone. I was particularly moved by how the collection begins and ends with pieces related to wartime, especially War Song, which lingers quietly in the mind long after it ends.
While not every piece felt essential, the overall experience was unexpectedly rich. Parker’s work has bite, but it also has soul. This wasn’t just clever writing—it was revealing, and often raw beneath the polish.
I’ll definitely be seeking out more of her lesser-known work—and perhaps that 1968 Esquire article Dorothy Parker, Not What You Expected, which feels like an apt title for the experience of reading her for the first time.