Carolyn Parkhurst
Carolyn Parkhurst
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Full Name and Common Aliases
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Carolyn Parkhurst is an American author of fiction novels known for her insightful portrayals of family dynamics, relationships, and the human condition.
Birth and Death Dates
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Born on August 24, 1970 (no death date found)
Nationality and Profession(s)
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Nationality: American
Professions: Novelist, Author
Early Life and Background
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Carolyn Parkhurst was born in New York City but grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania. Her early life was marked by a love for literature and writing, which she developed during her high school years. After completing her education, Parkhurst attended the University of Pennsylvania where she earned a Bachelor's degree in English.
Major Accomplishments
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Parkhurst's debut novel, The Dogs of Babel, published in 2004, marked the beginning of her literary career. The novel tells the story of a couple whose lives are turned upside down by the mysterious death of their son. This work earned Parkhurst critical acclaim and established her as a notable voice in contemporary American literature.
Notable Works or Actions
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In addition to The Dogs of Babel, Parkhurst has published several other novels that have garnered significant attention from readers and critics alike:
The Fine Art of Love and Starvation (2007): This novel explores themes of love, relationships, and the complexities of human connections.
The Best Bad Things (2012): Parkhurst's third novel delves into the world of a family torn apart by secrets and lies.
Impact and Legacy
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Parkhurst's works have not only been praised for their literary merit but also for their ability to resonate with readers on an emotional level. Her novels often explore themes that are both universally relatable and deeply personal, making her a beloved author among many book clubs and reading groups.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
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Carolyn Parkhurst is widely quoted and remembered for her poignant portrayals of family life and relationships. Her insightful observations on the human condition have resonated with readers across various demographics, establishing her as one of the most important voices in contemporary American literature.
Quotes by Carolyn Parkhurst

The tragedy of puppies, taken from their families, all of them, never to see each other again. This is the sadness we inflict on the beasts we love.

Imagine if our lives were treated as carefully as the rest of history. Imagine if we were documented as conscientiously, preserved as gently. Each birth at least as important as a naval victory. Each death a national tragedy. There are plenty of ways to remember someone: a park bench, a colossus, an epic poem. Your only job is creating a life that contains a story worth telling.

Happiness, as it exists in the wild – as opposed to those artificially constructed moments like weddings and birthday parties, where it’s gathered into careful piles – is not smooth. Happiness in the real world is mostly just resilience and a willingness to arch oneself toward optimism. To believe that people are more good than bad. To believe that the waves carrying you are neither friendly nor malicious, and to know that you’re less likely to drown if you stop struggling against them.

A crisis of faith doesn’t have to be about God. You can have a crisis of faith about dust mites and food additives that cause behavioral changes.

It may not be terribly fruitful to rearrange deck chairs on the Titanic, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t satisfying.

It occurs to me for the first time that Lorelei is getting older – she must be eight years old by now – and that I may not have unlimited time to conduct my research. Or to enjoy the quiet pleasure of her company. I will lose her someday, that much is certain, and it makes me ache to think of it. But, as all dog owners must, I put the thought quickly out of my mind.

The unexpected thing, the miraculous thing, is when a car that’s been shattered in a crash, that’s been left in the rain to rust for years at a time, can be coaxed to growl to a start and slowly begin rolling down the hill.

We never know, do we, what our neighbors might be doing behind their fences, what love affairs and bloody rituals might be taking place right next door? The world is a more interesting place that we ever think.

All this to say: I am forty-three years old. I may yet live another forty. What do I do with those years? How do I fill them without Lexy? When I come to tell the story of my life, there will be a line, creased and blurred and soft with age, where she stops. If I win the lottery, if I father a child, if I lose the use of my legs, it will be after she has finished knowing me. “When I get to Heaven”, my grandmother used to say, widowed at thirty-nine, “your grandfather won’t even recognize me.
