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cesar's review against another edition
dark
emotional
funny
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Bukowski escreve sobre sentimentos de forma crua, e nos mostra um lado real da vida, em contos que são sarcásticos, verdadeiros, cheio de ironia e de humanidade.
Um belo livro de pequenos contos que nos leva até a mente desse poeta que escreve o que quer e como quer.
Um belo livro de pequenos contos que nos leva até a mente desse poeta que escreve o que quer e como quer.
tomhardygirl's review
God this has lived inside me for so long—it isn’t even about Bukowski anymore—mostly it’s an eleven year old giggling in bed and finding meaning in things i no longer can, mostly it’s dreaming of being someone i’m not and connection and having my life ahead of me. Mostly it’s youth.
sulabooknerd's review
challenging
funny
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
pkpoppies's review
3.0
Poetry isn’t my territory. Here, although I sound so boring and unintelligent, I don’t quite “get” poetry. At least not poetry with this format, this lack of rhyme scheme or flow. That said, I enjoyed this nihilistic collection of trashy late-night thoughts of his. Quite a few quotes to remember here and there.
annaneuman's review
3.0
There are some glimpses of interest or beauty but you have to slog through so much objectification it becomes tedious
ckrupiej's review
4.0
"we only have ourselves to go on, and it's enough ... "
"naturally, we are all caught in / downmoods, it´s a matter of / chemical imbalance / and an existence / which, at times, / seems to forbid / any real chance at happiness."
"sometimes when everything seems at / its worst / when all conspires / and gnaws / and the hours, days, weeks / years / seem wasted - / stretched there upon my bed / in the dark / looking upward at the ceiling / I get what many will consider an / obnoxious thought: / it's still nice to be / Bukowski."
"... thinking, the courage it took to get out of bed each / morning / to face the same things / over and over / was / enormous."
" we have / more than ever / the selfish wants of power / the disregard for the / weak / the old / the impoverished / the helpless."
drive through hell
The people are weary, unhappy and frustrated, the people are
bitter and vengeful, the people are deluded and fearful, the ~
people are angry and uninventive
and I drive among them on the freeway and they project
what is left of themselves in their manner of driving -
some more hateful, more thwarted than others -
some don't like to be passed, some attempt to keep others from passing
- some attempt to block lane changes
- some hate cars of a newer, more expensive model
- others in these cars hate the older cars
the freeway is a circus of cheap and petty emotions, it's
Humanity on the move, most of them coming from some place they
hated and going to another they hate just as much or more
the freeways are a lesson in what we have become and
most of the crashes and deaths are the collision
of incomplete beings, of pitiful and demented lives."
Shoes
When you're young / a pair of / female / high-heeled shoes / just sitting / alone / in the closet / can fire your / bones; / when you're old / it's just / a pair of shoes / without / anybody / in them / and / just as / well."
"she wasn´t very / interesting / but few people / are."
"yet / at times / I do consider my / overseas fame / and / the only thing / I can come up with is / that / I must have some / great motherfucking / translators."
"there are certainly any number of lonely / people without much to do with / their nights."
"One doesn't even think of / the liver / and if the liver / doesn't think of / us, that's / fine."
"naturally, we are all caught in / downmoods, it´s a matter of / chemical imbalance / and an existence / which, at times, / seems to forbid / any real chance at happiness."
"sometimes when everything seems at / its worst / when all conspires / and gnaws / and the hours, days, weeks / years / seem wasted - / stretched there upon my bed / in the dark / looking upward at the ceiling / I get what many will consider an / obnoxious thought: / it's still nice to be / Bukowski."
"... thinking, the courage it took to get out of bed each / morning / to face the same things / over and over / was / enormous."
" we have / more than ever / the selfish wants of power / the disregard for the / weak / the old / the impoverished / the helpless."
drive through hell
The people are weary, unhappy and frustrated, the people are
bitter and vengeful, the people are deluded and fearful, the ~
people are angry and uninventive
and I drive among them on the freeway and they project
what is left of themselves in their manner of driving -
some more hateful, more thwarted than others -
some don't like to be passed, some attempt to keep others from passing
- some attempt to block lane changes
- some hate cars of a newer, more expensive model
- others in these cars hate the older cars
the freeway is a circus of cheap and petty emotions, it's
Humanity on the move, most of them coming from some place they
hated and going to another they hate just as much or more
the freeways are a lesson in what we have become and
most of the crashes and deaths are the collision
of incomplete beings, of pitiful and demented lives."
Shoes
When you're young / a pair of / female / high-heeled shoes / just sitting / alone / in the closet / can fire your / bones; / when you're old / it's just / a pair of shoes / without / anybody / in them / and / just as / well."
"she wasn´t very / interesting / but few people / are."
"yet / at times / I do consider my / overseas fame / and / the only thing / I can come up with is / that / I must have some / great motherfucking / translators."
"there are certainly any number of lonely / people without much to do with / their nights."
"One doesn't even think of / the liver / and if the liver / doesn't think of / us, that's / fine."
joannaautumn's review
5.0
I have liked Bukowski's poetry since I was an emotional rollercoaster of a teenager and I still like it as a somewhat stable(?)and a fairly young adult in my 20s. Yes, his poetry contains a lot of curse words, a lot of enjambment, simplified vocabulary, and an array of "gruesome" acts like sex, drinking, gambling. The characters that are most present in his work are ones of the lower class: the drunks, prostitutes, gamblers, unemployed men, and women; essentially ones that "didn't win" at life. Even though at first glance these people seem lonely and sad, they all carry that ounce of compassion that makes humanity what we are.
Bukowski is not saying that every "Succesful" person is cold, ruthless, and hypocritical nor is he saying that every drunk has a beautiful soul and a sharp wit, he is acknowledging the existence of the bad in what is presented as good and the good in what society presents as bad.
darkness falls upon Humanity
and faces become terrible
things
that wanted more than there
was.
all our days are marked with
unexpected
affronts - some
disastrous, others
less so
but the process is
wearing and
continuous.
attrition rules.
most give
way
leaving
empty spaces
where people should
be.
and now
as we ready to self-destruct
there is very little left to
kill
which makes the tragedy
less and more
much much
more.”
The real enemy for Bukowski is the collective that represses the individual. It's fitting inside boxes of modern society, into the roles set by something inhuman.
Bukowski is almost like a disappointed idealist, his values are ones of good (compassion, kindness, humanism) but life offers rare chances of reciprocation and leads his characters into a downward spiral of developing bad habits (gambling, drinking, drug abuse) to cope with their dissatisfaction with life. There are many poems that he wrote where he expresses that the moments of happiness and enjoyment are ones of genuine connection with other people and art.
That’s where the role of art comes along, it’s this ability of one man to express himself with no binds, and for another to connect with his work long after the creator is gone. As art is made by the artist but is now left alone, standing for itself, being even bigger than its maker. Art has a dual power of healing, giving the creator freedom and the observer of art pleasure or connection, or that feeling of being seen, of being expressed in an adequate way. And maybe a percentage of humans who are touched by art will make their own art and the cycle carries on.
The poetry of Bukowski makes you ask the question, why is this moment in particular made into a poem? Why is this man the hero of the poem, or its antihero? What does he pay attention to these things and not the other?
And all of this is wrapped in simple, colloquial language which can reach the wide masses and they can understand it if they do spend a moment or two reflecting on each poem.
Final thoughts: Bukowski writes with a lot of heart, showcasing both the downs and the rare ups of human existence, this collection in particular has some of the best aspects of his writing and serves as a good introduction to his poems.
------------------------------------------------------
Still one of my favorite poetry collections; review to come.
Bukowski is not saying that every "Succesful" person is cold, ruthless, and hypocritical nor is he saying that every drunk has a beautiful soul and a sharp wit, he is acknowledging the existence of the bad in what is presented as good and the good in what society presents as bad.
Darkness
darkness falls upon Humanity
and faces become terrible
things
that wanted more than there
was.
all our days are marked with
unexpected
affronts - some
disastrous, others
less so
but the process is
wearing and
continuous.
attrition rules.
most give
way
leaving
empty spaces
where people should
be.
and now
as we ready to self-destruct
there is very little left to
kill
which makes the tragedy
less and more
much much
more.”
The real enemy for Bukowski is the collective that represses the individual. It's fitting inside boxes of modern society, into the roles set by something inhuman.
Bukowski is almost like a disappointed idealist, his values are ones of good (compassion, kindness, humanism) but life offers rare chances of reciprocation and leads his characters into a downward spiral of developing bad habits (gambling, drinking, drug abuse) to cope with their dissatisfaction with life. There are many poems that he wrote where he expresses that the moments of happiness and enjoyment are ones of genuine connection with other people and art.
Miracle
I have just listened to this
symphony which Mozart dashed off
in one day
and it had enough wild and crazy
joy to last
forever,
whatever forever
is
Mozart came as close as
possible to
that.
That’s where the role of art comes along, it’s this ability of one man to express himself with no binds, and for another to connect with his work long after the creator is gone. As art is made by the artist but is now left alone, standing for itself, being even bigger than its maker. Art has a dual power of healing, giving the creator freedom and the observer of art pleasure or connection, or that feeling of being seen, of being expressed in an adequate way. And maybe a percentage of humans who are touched by art will make their own art and the cycle carries on.
The poetry of Bukowski makes you ask the question, why is this moment in particular made into a poem? Why is this man the hero of the poem, or its antihero? What does he pay attention to these things and not the other?
And all of this is wrapped in simple, colloquial language which can reach the wide masses and they can understand it if they do spend a moment or two reflecting on each poem.
Final thoughts: Bukowski writes with a lot of heart, showcasing both the downs and the rare ups of human existence, this collection in particular has some of the best aspects of his writing and serves as a good introduction to his poems.
------------------------------------------------------
Still one of my favorite poetry collections; review to come.
samueltuohy's review
4.0
My only other experience of Bukowski's work is 'Love is a Dog from Hell'. I enjoyed that work as it painted him in the height of his sadness; a man writing in the midst of the darkness that he felt. In 'You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense', Bukowski gave us more insight into his past - showing more tales of compassion and showing an empathetic side that I was pleasantly surprised to see in his raw writing.
I loved this compilation of poetry and cannot wait to reach into more of his work in future.
I loved this compilation of poetry and cannot wait to reach into more of his work in future.