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138 reviews for:
Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions, and General Tales of Ordinary Madness
Charles Bukowski
138 reviews for:
Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions, and General Tales of Ordinary Madness
Charles Bukowski
disgusting.
Graphic: Alcoholism, Animal cruelty, Child abuse, Domestic abuse, Homophobia, Sexism
worse book I ever read.
This was one of those rare books that made me laugh out loud, with my heart; and yet behind these funny moments a grim reality was lurking underneath.
The first time I saw Bukowski's photo, for a moment I thought he was the prolific Greek poet Yannis Ritsos and then I realised he was not. But beside the beard and the long wavy hair and their prolific writing careers they don't seem to share anything else.
Ritsos is more lyrical more benign in his writing.
Bukowski is more straightforward, with an in-yer-face rawness.
I first learnt (spring 2015) more about Bukowski as a poet and writer through a few documentaries and videos I saw of him on YouTube and from reading about him online.
Two and a half years later I stumble upon this book of short stories at a thrift shop and I said It's about time I read something by him
I realised that this is some classic Bukowski by just reading the info on the back cover stating that the tales of this volume were originally collected together with more stories in a single volume entitled Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions and General Tales of Ordinary Madness
... Thus, I dived in ...
At the beginning I was a bit annoyed by his (characters') attitude towards women but as the stories became more and more autobiographical I started enjoying them more.
Bukowski isn't hiding behind his words, he isn't using beautifying descriptions for things that can't be said, he isn't afraid to say what he feels.
He is honest, filthy, misanthropic, has an acid pen and caustic humour, criticises everything from American life to Anna Karenina. He is Charles Bukowski.
So, I won't say more about this book but I will leave you with a random extract that illustrates pretty well what I said about his writing:
The first time I saw Bukowski's photo, for a moment I thought he was the prolific Greek poet Yannis Ritsos and then I realised he was not. But beside the beard and the long wavy hair and their prolific writing careers they don't seem to share anything else.
Ritsos is more lyrical more benign in his writing.
Bukowski is more straightforward, with an in-yer-face rawness.
I first learnt (spring 2015) more about Bukowski as a poet and writer through a few documentaries and videos I saw of him on YouTube and from reading about him online.
Two and a half years later I stumble upon this book of short stories at a thrift shop and I said It's about time I read something by him
I realised that this is some classic Bukowski by just reading the info on the back cover stating that the tales of this volume were originally collected together with more stories in a single volume entitled Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions and General Tales of Ordinary Madness
... Thus, I dived in ...
At the beginning I was a bit annoyed by his (characters') attitude towards women but as the stories became more and more autobiographical I started enjoying them more.
Bukowski isn't hiding behind his words, he isn't using beautifying descriptions for things that can't be said, he isn't afraid to say what he feels.
He is honest, filthy, misanthropic, has an acid pen and caustic humour, criticises everything from American life to Anna Karenina. He is Charles Bukowski.
So, I won't say more about this book but I will leave you with a random extract that illustrates pretty well what I said about his writing:
Bukowski hates Santa Claus. Bukowski makes deformed figures out of typewriter erasers. when water drips, Bukowski cries. when Bukowski cries, water drips. o sanctums of fountains, o scrotums, o fountaining scrotums, o man's great ugliness everywhere like that fresh dogturd that the morning shoe did not see again; o, the mighty police, o the mighty weapons, o the mighty dictators, o the mighty damn fools everywhere, o the lonely lonely octopus, o the clock-tick seeping each neat one of us balanced and unbalanced and holy and constipated, o the bums lying in alleys of misery in a golden world, o the children to become ugly, o the ugly to become uglier, o the sadness of sabres and the closing of the walls - no Santa Claus, no Pussy, no Magic Wand, no Cinderella,p.152
no Great Minds Ever, kukoo - just shit and the whipping of dogs and children, just shit and the wiping away of shit; just doctors without patients just clouds without rain just days without days,
o god o mighty that you put this upon us.
You have to really like the way Bukowski writes to enjoy this book- which I do not, really, but I understand many do. The book was entertaining nonetheless. Each story made you really feel deeply for him and his hatred of mankind.
Rambling lunacy indispersed with moments of lucidity, Bukowski steps between crazy imaginings or retelling of other's stories to his own observations on life at the fringe of American culture. I returned to Bukowski after many years of not reading him, it was in my teens that I read his poetry which in turn inspired me to write as his free-form and at times slapdash method appealed to my brain which was overflowing with thoughts I couldn't get out. Tales of Ordinary Madness continues with that method but in parts veers into the conventional prose writing style. At the start of the book, the first few anecdotes, Bukowski annotates his writing style, talking directly to the reader, as the anecdotes continue he begins to distance himself from the text and deepens the narrative by focussing on the characters, stories and culture of his time. He references other writers, contemporary and past. He reflects on the poetry scene of the time, and its writers. Indispersed with imagery that is less intended to shock than to rather wake the reader up, or give them a jolt. Or perhaps Bukowski got bored and amused himself with a lurid thought put to paper for its own sake, or he was writing with his beer goggles on. Whatever the reasoning, Bukowski toys with the reader, he invents and rants, making Tales of Ordinary Madness a veritable porridge of ideas and observations cut with the daily muck of life by the gutter.
"Our sins are manufactured in heaven to create our own hell, which we evidently need."
Dull - just stories of Bukowski betting on horses and screwing women. Slowly the repetition gets to you.
A slightly disappointing collection of Bukowski's works. The works focus much more on his alcoholism and writing than the raw sexuality I remembered from some of his previous work. To be honest, I don't know if it was this collection of stories or simply my mind has aged and become more PC, but I found most of his interaction with woman to be so misogynist that it was hard to read. The rare exception and one of my favorite stories was "Animal Crackers in My Soup", a rare departure of style with fantastic elements that I thought really worked. Other recommended stories "The Great Zen Wedding" and "Flower Horse" are more along his classic style and subject.
Bukowski pode ser um velho safado, nojento, escrever sobre temas polêmicos com uma naturalidade absurda, mas ele sabe conquistar o leitor e tem um humor FANTÁSTICO. Não é meu tipo de livro favorito, mas não posso ser injusta com esse cara.