3.51 AVERAGE


probably not the best place to start with bukowski, because there's no way the rest of his stuff is this abysmal. 95% of this was disgusting and quite perfectly encapsulating the argentinian term of being a "viejo verde", the other 5% (that wasn't about fucking, young girls, shitting or vomiting) was actually good and relatable. but this one wasn't it.

had to re-read this one after reading siken. i haven't really read much poetry, i guess, and i had to make sure i still liked this one. and i do, so that's good (or bad depending on who you ask)

antiem80's review

3.0

Not sure Bukowski is my "thing." There were a few gems.
dark emotional sad medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Character
Strong character development: No
Loveable characters: No
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

I hate him but also…. I get where he’s coming from… so I hate him💀

awful horrible worst thing i've ever read by far
dark emotional reflective medium-paced

This is the first thing by Bukowski that I read, so naturally it's still my favorite. (in the spirit of full-disclosure, there's also a chapter almost entirely devoted to redheads that I am somewhat biased towards.)

I rarely take a book of poetry and sit down and read it front to back, but that's exactly what I did with this. These poems of mishaps with women are as complete as any short story, each page building upon this complex and alluring figure that is Charles Bukowski. yes, it's a lot of fucking and a lot of drinking, but if you think you're above that, you're fooling yourself.

My go to. I've read so many times.

I think he says it best himself:

if you see me grinning from
my blue Volks
running a yellow light
driving straight into the sun
I will be locked in the
arms of a
crazy life
thinking of trapeze artists
of midgets with big cigars
of a Russian winter in the early 40's
of Chopin with his bag of Polish soil
of an old waitress bringing me an extra
cup of coffee and laughing
as she does so.

He has moments of shocking brilliance and clarity that make wading through all the rest of the sexual innuendos (or sometimes straight up sex) and less conventionally romantic interpretations of love worth it.

Half the time, it felt like I was looking up at the sky through a kaleidoscope trying to count the birds with the sun in my eyes. Burning, Gratifying, Piercing, and a lot of What the fucks, why am I even doing this.

You can say a lot of things about this guy but you can't say he's not honest. And definitely locked in the arms of a crazy life.

I feel a bit torn about this one. I think the majority of these poems are what's called "dirty realism." Charles Bukowski is a guy living on the fringes of society and documenting the lives of marginalized people. I do not put Bukowski on a pedestal; these poems make it clear that he was not a good person. His references to pedophilia are particularly disturbing. He was blatantly misogynistic and sometimes racist. I found myself having some similar takeaways as William S. Burrough's "Naked Lunch," though I felt Naked Lunch had more literary and artistic merit.

That being said, I feel that, in a handful of poems, Bukowski's prose transcends. His hyper-authentic voice, his literary sensibility, and his emotional vulnerability come together to form moving works of genuine literary merit. I don't think Bukowski would have been able to make the handful of great poems without the many lackluster, dry, and off-putting ones. There is a substantial through-line in his work, a minimalist dirtbag-zen aesthetic that is moving and beautiful. He is essentially embarking on the same literary journey as the beat generation, except that the beats came down from the ivory tower of literary academia and Bukowski rose up from the dirt at the bottom of society. The difference is, that, while the beats were hyper-pretentious ivy-league poets, Bukowski lacks any pretense whatsoever. This means that, if you have to read nine cringy misogynistic poems and one great one, you'll know that the one is the real deal, no fluff.

Though Bukowski went on a similar journey to the Beat writers, he was also their antithesis, an anti-beat, if you will. I think this is why he resonated so much more with the following generations, the punk and grunge movements.

Bukowski's poems are hard as rocks but, when they shine, they are true diamonds.