

“Parker is a classic case of a misunderstood woman. She was a problem, and a problem that simply didn‘t fit in one way or another. All too often, women who refuse to conform must live and die with this temporal displacement. At the start of her career, Parker‘s stringing barbs and biting bons mots were seen as shockingly modern- indeed, ahead of their time-and most “unladylike.” By the end of her life, Parker was regarded as a relic of a time -
“By all accounts, Dorothy Parker‘s two favorite words were fuck and shit. Coming from such a small, genteel, quietly spoken woman, these words often made people do a double take and wonder if they had misheard”.

She reviewed three books a week for a year, and continued to make occasional contributions until 1933....Parker's column helped to establish the New Yorker voice; wry, puckish, world-weary.
On a book she was finding hard to finish: "One of us, we know, is not functioning properly, and we dare not hope in our inferiority that it is the author".

Another of the many rereads I started months ago and have been reading on and off ever since. She and her work have always spoken to me, but I don‘t know if I‘ve ever identified with her personally through her poems quite as deeply as I do at this particular moment in my life. Then again, maybe with the really great writers you feel that all over again each time you read them.
