Customer Reviews

Dangling in the Tournefortia

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Absolutely top drawer. Whenever i get worked up over paying bills, decorating a house, having the right career, blah blah blah. I turn to this book, pick a page and start reading. Some of the poetry is distilled meaning of life. Some would say a woman wouldn't like bukowski. Some probably wouldn't. To me he's like the print version of Tom Waits. Knows the meaning of life and drinks a beer to the struggle.

The poems in this volume consistently present Bukowski as I've come to see him -- perceptive, self-deprecating, and frequently and unexpectedly funny as hell. There isn't really a bad or wasted line in here. This opinion is based on my knowledge of Bukowski derived from having read maybe 90 percent of his books. If you can have only one volume of Bukowski poetry, this should be it, in good part because it includes musings from his East Hollywood period and the affluent San Pedro days. In this regard, You may notice that Bukowski almost never mentions money or personal finances in his earlier work, but in San Pedro, mortgages, tax accountants, and the price of automobiles enter his view.

The biggest gripe I have against Charles Bukowski is that he made it look so easy. He's responsible for spawning thousands of second-rate immitators. I am no exception. Because I've spent some time in San Pedro, this collection in particular resonates with me since many of the poems come out of his stay in that harbor city. It's all here: women, booze, puking, classical music, barking dogs, war, annoying groupies, disasterous book readings, etc. If you were to choose one Bukowski book of poetry to read, this is it.

If you've found your way to this page you clearly either have an interest in Charles Bukowski or in tournefortia, which, I understand, is some sort of hanging plant -- tournefortia, I mean, is some sort of hanging plant, not Bukowski, who is a man. (Can't use "was" here, by God, because Hank will be with us always.) Ahem. Bukowski, of course, is a poet, for some of us, make that for many of us, THE poet, the best damned poet of the 20th century, maybe of the ages.

But, having found your way here, you know all that. I'm preaching to the choir. (Unless you are that rare tournefortia afficianado who cares only for plants and nothing for the sublime lines of the master. In that case, you must quit this place for a more horticulturaly friendly environment at once. At once, do you hear?)

There are many fine poems in this book: "The Lisp," "The Man at the Piano," "One for Sherwood Anderson," the list goes on and on. It's an outstanding collection, one any Bukophile should own. Hell, buy two and give one to a friend. That, at least will keep them from stealing your copy for a while, at least until someone steals their own and they need another -- damn it! -- right this minute and they know where you keep yours. Come to think of it, maybe you should buy three or four of every Bukowksi title. God knows I've lost dozens of copies of his books through the years. I take solace in the understanding that they are still out there, still being loaned and stolen and loaned again, making the rounds from needy hand to needy hand and will be doing so from now till they fall to pieces or the end of things descends upon us all.

If you've read Bukowksi, then you know how he feels about the "critics". I, for one, find that is later work after 77 or so is his best. This book and "you get so along at times...." are my 2 absolute favorites. You should own this one!

For those of you who appreciate the less carnal side of Charles Bukowski's writing "Dangling in the Tournefortia" is a great choice. It appears that what is most obviously dangling in this work is Mr. Bukowski's place in line, no longer at the far end of the unemployment line but not one soul away from entering the rest home either. On one hand you have poems like "My Big Fling" that describe how the Chinaski gets into a fight with his woman, storms out to a hotel, climbs into bed with drinks and watches TV...only to find out the next day he and his woman watched the same show from their respective beds. On the other, you have another poem that tells Old Bukowski's story of juggling three girlfriends all half his age (about 50). Much like the rest of us, Bukowski changes, if gradually and begrudgingly, over time and in spite of the critics of his later work this is still a fine piece of his writing. Check out "Screams from the Balcony" if you think that Bukowski spent his whole life indignant to the world. Then again I suppose he wouldn't care one way or another now about our little reviews. "Dangling" is a good book for the most part.

classic bukowski
long narrative thoughtful poetry carefully planned and executed regardless of how he may have described his own techniqe here
the ending short poem is classic

an amazing look at the reality of life as illustrated by one who tells it like it is without shame