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sisyphused's review
Keywords: booze, women, whiskey, poems, drink, balls, whore, sex, crotch, penis, fuck
ever met a pick-me old guy? haven't yet but it certainly felt like i already did after reading this. it's my first charles bukowski (definitely would be the last) and i had no expectations whatsoever, but boy, was i surprisingly disappointed. tried to ignore the fact that he's insufferably so full of himself—which i failed miserably—and thinks women were up to chase him for his questionably *remarkable literary works* when in fact he's literally just a mediocre, burly old sigma male horny dude whose body most probably contain 80% more alcohol than water. i can sense he's the kind of guy who'd offer you a free drink at a bar just so someone would actively listen to him word vomit all day till his saliva dries up. because, idk man, some of the verses should've stayed in his drafts, like, how can a poem be written in simple language yet lack significant meaning and feel so empty???
i'm definitely in the minority here 'cause i don't get the praise at all but to each our own, i guess. frankly, reading this felt like pulling teeth but that's all on me. i just find it hard to connect with because for the most part the whole thing just failed to live up to its title. he should've at least thought of a more accurate one like "You Get So Horny and Self-absorbed at Times That it Just Don't Make Sense" yk what i mean... at one point i got curious of what it's like to inhabit his brain for awhile just to see what's been gnawing up there, but then that would be obnoxious.
in conclusion: one can never really separate an artist from their art which speaks volume of who the author truly is outside his literary piece, though, not all of us are ready to accept that.
tl;dr
just read
some
poor old
drunkard
word vomit
but
in
poetry
form
then
i thought
he
didn't need
a
good lay
but a
big warm
hug
title is
a
clickbait
should've
realized it
sooner
my bad
ever met a pick-me old guy? haven't yet but it certainly felt like i already did after reading this. it's my first charles bukowski (definitely would be the last) and i had no expectations whatsoever, but boy, was i surprisingly disappointed. tried to ignore the fact that he's insufferably so full of himself—which i failed miserably—and thinks women were up to chase him for his questionably *remarkable literary works* when in fact he's literally just a mediocre, burly old sigma male horny dude whose body most probably contain 80% more alcohol than water. i can sense he's the kind of guy who'd offer you a free drink at a bar just so someone would actively listen to him word vomit all day till his saliva dries up. because, idk man, some of the verses should've stayed in his drafts, like, how can a poem be written in simple language yet lack significant meaning and feel so empty???
i'm definitely in the minority here 'cause i don't get the praise at all but to each our own, i guess. frankly, reading this felt like pulling teeth but that's all on me. i just find it hard to connect with because for the most part the whole thing just failed to live up to its title. he should've at least thought of a more accurate one like "You Get So Horny and Self-absorbed at Times That it Just Don't Make Sense" yk what i mean... at one point i got curious of what it's like to inhabit his brain for awhile just to see what's been gnawing up there, but then that would be obnoxious.
in conclusion: one can never really separate an artist from their art which speaks volume of who the author truly is outside his literary piece, though, not all of us are ready to accept that.
tl;dr
just read
some
poor old
drunkard
word vomit
but
in
poetry
form
then
i thought
he
didn't need
a
good lay
but a
big warm
hug
title is
a
clickbait
should've
realized it
sooner
my bad
aritacb's review
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.0
girlnouns's review
5.0
I understand the criticisms of Bukowski but I still find that this book is very enjoyable. It was my first poetry book and I felt like I read it at the right time of my life since I am a recently graduated, unemployed, former Angelino. The poems were grotesque and grimy but also had a lot of wit and longing to it. Overall, really enjoyable.
batbones's review against another edition
3.0
By turns hilarious, tragic, pitiful. Guy can write a good line more than once, and smart dialogue; but 'is it poetry?' is a question that his work never answers satisfactorily
lazyhazy's review
dark
funny
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
marieobr's review
funny
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
chicalmodovar's review
5.0
I took a rather long time with this one. Thankfully, I can say that it was because of outside impediments, and not because of the book itself.
This is one of the first poetry collections I've read in English and I can say it truly got me in a good place, in regards to my own poetry, which up until now had only been written in Spanish.
Now, for the actual review:
I read this book on my iPad, and as I was perusing my notes and highlights I found this thing I wrote, which I had forgotten: "In order to create art, one must live. Art harvests inside of experience, or maybe the other way around, but however that works, wisdom makes the creation of art possible, it enables it to be sincere, truthful. Art that’s created from supposing, from inferring, from impersonal guesses, might be technically great, but never truly great".
I think that paragraph can easily sum up what You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense, and maybe even Bukowski's work. It's true, it's pure, and it speaks from a place which cannot be explained with brevity: the heart.
Every poem is filled with such a sense of solitude and self-awareness. You can't help it but laugh sometimes. Bukowski knew himself very well and he wasn't weary to let that be known. And for that, every stanza feels like you're walking right through his thoughts. Or maybe I am exaggerating a bit, we'll never know.
For a long time I had been thinking about giving Bukowski a shot, and I don't know why I hadn't, but I'm glad I didn't read him before, because I would not have liked it as much as I did.
This is one of the first poetry collections I've read in English and I can say it truly got me in a good place, in regards to my own poetry, which up until now had only been written in Spanish.
Now, for the actual review:
I read this book on my iPad, and as I was perusing my notes and highlights I found this thing I wrote, which I had forgotten: "In order to create art, one must live. Art harvests inside of experience, or maybe the other way around, but however that works, wisdom makes the creation of art possible, it enables it to be sincere, truthful. Art that’s created from supposing, from inferring, from impersonal guesses, might be technically great, but never truly great".
I think that paragraph can easily sum up what You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense, and maybe even Bukowski's work. It's true, it's pure, and it speaks from a place which cannot be explained with brevity: the heart.
Every poem is filled with such a sense of solitude and self-awareness. You can't help it but laugh sometimes. Bukowski knew himself very well and he wasn't weary to let that be known. And for that, every stanza feels like you're walking right through his thoughts. Or maybe I am exaggerating a bit, we'll never know.
For a long time I had been thinking about giving Bukowski a shot, and I don't know why I hadn't, but I'm glad I didn't read him before, because I would not have liked it as much as I did.