I have gone through a few stages over the years in reading Buk. The first few years, I suppose I was like any kid eagerly devouring all the beat/countercultural stuff out there. At some point in time I just got tired of his apparent qualities of egotism, narcissism, misogyny, and what I saw as ...
Reviewing Bukowski by summarizing what he wrote about tends to make a reviewer sound more than a little off to people who are not familiar with his work. All I know for certain is that no other writer has ever felt as real as Bukowski does to me. Both of his feet are grounded in harsh, and at tim...
Why is it that I have let more than fifteen years pass since reading my last Bukowski? I had always liked him. When he died in San Pedro in 1994, only a year after the last diary entry in The Captain Is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship, I was surprised to see how busy he had ...
Allow me to introduce you to...HENRY CHARLES "HANK" CHINASKI:> Monumental asshole and perpetual slob. > Self destructive alcoholic.> Insincerely servile and unrepentantly sarcastic.> Void of ambition.> Unpleasant, crass, cynical, womanising jerk.> Spends his time: - propping up bars; or ...
another comeback climbing back up out of the ooze, out of the thick black tar, rising up again, a modern Lazarus. you're amazed at your good fortune. somehow you've had more than your share of second chances. hell, accept it. what you have, you have. you walk and look in the bathroom mirror at a...
I am exactly what I am supposed to be.This is likely my favorite collection by Charles Bukowski. A man made famous for his vulgarity and debauchery—though to cling to such things misses the point and heart of his poetry—The Last Night of the Earth Poems removes the caustic armor and lets the tend...
”The racetrack was important to me because it allowed me to forget that I was supposed to be a writer. Writing was strange. I needed to write, it was like a disease, a drug, a heavy compulsion, yet I didn’t like to think of myself as a writer. Maybe I had met too many writers. They took more time...
people are not good to each other.perhaps if they wereour deaths would not be so sad.Love him or hate him, Charles Bukowski was a bitter, drunken asshole with a gift for putting onto paper all the ugliness and baseness hiding in the human heart. Before jumping into the discovery and thoughts that...
Fascinating because of the two clear divisions in the book. The letters Bukowski wrote to Martinelli BEFORE he realized he wasn't going to get in her pants, and then the letters after that sad realization. At first Buk is a praise-horse that Sheri can ride around, and he hardly chides her at all ...
درباره ترجمه پیشنهاد من اینه که این کتاب رو به هیچ وجه به فارسی نخونید. تقریبا هر صفحه از کتاب بالاخره یه کلمه یا توصیف یا شوخی یا فحش یا حادثه ای توش هست که سانسور بشه، پس خودتون رو معطل کتابی که همه عناصر سرگرم کننده ـش رو حذف کردن نکنین. یا به انگلیسی بخونیدش و یا کلا نخونیدش! خوندن ترجمه کتاب...
It's been many years since I have returned to Henry Chinaski (Charles Bukowski) and through Notes of a Dirty Old Man, I was taken on yet another sometimes befuddling and sometimes profound reading experience. Bukowski mixes his prose with personal anecdotes and downright ridiculous absurdity, lik...
I was a writer. I was a dirty old man. Human relationships didn't work anyhow. Only the first two weeks had any zing, then the participants lost their interest. Masks dropped away and real people began to appear: cranks, imbeciles, the demented, the vengeful, sadists, killers. Modern society had ...
Fatto sta che un autore come Bukowski io non l’ho ancora trovato. E ritengo anche che sia il più incompreso autore mai esistito. In particolare, i racconti contenuti in questa celebre raccolta non ottengono mai l’attenzione che meritano data la ripetitività dei temi e l’estrema volgarità che in e...
While the Beat Generation was making its headway in literature with the likes of On the Road and Howl, Bukowski was, in most instances, dead drunk. In the post-World War II lit movement where the Beat Generation found its threshold, Bukowski was in engaged in what was to be a ten-year alcohol ind...
Unsurprisingly, I am once again floored. I finished this book in less than a day and I felt like a 3 year old who just had her lollipop taken away when it was done. I literally felt pouty that it was over. This series of poems is from the 70's and is incredibly eloquent and harsh at the same t...
Bukowski, emparentado desde su independencia con los postulados de la Generación Beat (aunque fuera de la misma), desarrollaba una literatura contracultural que escarbaba en el lado más sucio, enmerdado y miserable de la vida, como reflejo de su (nuestra) propia existencia y realidad, a la que sa...
"...his Malibu broads were like his poems: they never arrived"- From "The White Poets"After reading Pulp I felt somewhat alienated and disenchanted by his particular brand of dirty realism and felt as though a sizable chunk of criticism leveled on him as being a one trick pony might have been ju...
Una novela autobiográfica, contundente como un preciso uppercut, que nos muestra una visión bien distinta del «Sueño Americano», una visión «desde abajo», desde los pisoteados y humillados: la infancia, adolescencia y juventud de Henry Chinaski, en Los Ángeles, durante los años de la Depresión y ...
the gas line is leaking, the bird is gone from the cage, the skyline is dotted with vultures;Benny finally got off the stuff and Betty now has a jobas a waitress; andthe chimney sweep was quite delicate as hegiggled up through the soot.I walked miles through the city and recognizednothing as a gi...
I love poetry, but hardly own any of it...what's up with that? I aimed to change that this summer when I picked up this collection of poems from Charles Bukowski. Bukowski is a frequently cited inspiration for lots of modern poets, as well as the punk rock and heavy metal musicians that I adore o...
Reviewing a poetry anthology isn’t like reviewing any other kind of literature. This book represents the great man’s collected works, so all you can really talk about is the general impression you were left with. That impression to me was surprisingly a positive one. Sure, Bukowski talks about li...
And I answer, the sea is back there, back in the reservoir of memory. The sea is a myth. There never was a sea. But there was a sea! I tell you I was born on the seashore! I bathed in the waters of the sea! It gave me food and it gave me peace, and its fascinating distances fed my dreams! No, Art...
Éste es el primer libro que se publicó en España de un autor entonces desconocido, Charles Bukowski, que alcanzó de inmediato gran popularidad. Se ha comparado a Bukowski con Henry Miller y Hemingway, con Célice y Artaud, con Charlie Parker y W C. Fields, y en pocos años pasó de escritor maldito ...
Screams from the Balcony is a collection of letters chronicling Charles Bukowski's life as he tries to get published and work at a postal office, all while drinking and gambling.
Charles Bukowski is one of America's best-known contemporary writers of poetry and prose, and, many would claim, its most influential and imitated poet. He was born in Andernach, Germany, and raised in Los Angeles, where he lived for fifty years. He published his first story in 1944, when he was ...
Francine got up and answered it and brought the phone to Tony in bed. It was Francine’s phone. Tony answered. It was Joanna long distance from Frisco. “Listen,” he said, “I told you never to phone me here.” Joanna had been drinking. “You just shut up and listen to me. You owe me something, Tony.”...
Meg had the radio on to Brahms. She had the radio on very loud. Meg not only had false teeth but she was a dry fuck. There was no way to get her to lubricating. It was like sticking your cock into a roll of sandpaper: it ground and scraped and burned tire skin. “Turn that radio down! I’m trying t...
yesterday the cat walked calmly up the driveway with the mockingbird alive in its mouth, wings fanned, beautiful wings fanned and flopping, feathers parted like a woman’s legs, and the bird was no longer mocking, it was asking, it was praying but the cat striding down through centuries would not ...
I was awakened by this hard sound, heavy and hard, rolling on the linoleum floor. the door opened and something entered the room which was still dark. it looked like a large cross but it was only a beam scale. “gotta weigh you,” said the nurse. she was a big black woman, kindly but determined. “n...
she said, “you keep bringing meout to these fucking horse races and I lose, god damn it,it’s all so useless and ignorant, I hate it, I justhate it!” her purse had a long strap and she was swinging itaround and around with great velocity. we were walking out of the track after thelast race. “I ...
You pick it up inch by inch and try to get the totality. The problem is that the books say one way and some people say the other. The terminology slowly becomes understandable. The computer only does, it doesn't know. You can confuse it and it can turn on you. It's up to ...
FREE PRESS, AUGUST 22, 1975 Down around Sunset, about Sunset and Wilton, near the freeway exit and by the gas station, you’ll see them sometimes in their uniforms with swastika. They wear pleasant looks on very white faces and hand out literature. They also wear helmets and some of the boys are b...
It was Sunday and I was expecting a royalty, no, an advance from a dirty book I had written for the Germans, but the Germans kept writing me this bullshit about the owner, the father, being a drunk, they were deep in the red because the old man had withdrawn their funds from the bank, no, overdra...