Come back, Dorothy Parker, nothing is forgiven. Not by Mr. Doctorow anyway, and he himself seems badly in need of shriving if not of absolution, himself. When intellectual New Yorkers set out to beat their breasts they give themselves, and us, the full treatment, a real work-out. And so it is in Drinks Before Dinner…. This one will shrivel the ice cubes in that li'l ole highball before your hostess can recall herself to her social obligations and offer to freshen it up for you. The trouble was that Edgar took his gun to the party but no one asked him to shoot. Just as well, as it turns out, because he hasn't loaded it…. Mr. Doctorow takes aim at a lot of contemporary targets but he has no bullets in his gun either…. [A] play which 'originated not in an idea or a character or a story, but in a sense of heightened language, a way of talking' hasn't got too much going for it.