Customer Reviews

Notes of a Dirty Old Man

5 star:		(22)
4 star:		(8)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

Some consider Charles Bukowski overrated... some think of him as an unhearalded genius. This collection falls somewhere in the middle. Initially I read this book ravenously, and fell in love with about half of the stories. Since then I have revisited it with a bit more care, and I continue to fine amazing beauty in the way Buk Takes jagged, rusty words and puts them together with duct tape to create these urban scenes. The greats could never have done this, None of them knew LA. This book seems to do the imposible. At once it honors the city of angels with an incredibly accurate rendering of what LA is, and it makes you hate the city all the more for the same reason. This is a great place to start reading Bukowski.

This is essential a collection of works Bukowski wrote for a column. As such it reads like a collection of short stories. It's a good book to keep beside the crapper, especially if you are expecting a visit from your in-laws. Very frank writing of the dark side of life: sex, drugs, alcohol - the good stuff! I love Bukowski's style. If you are easily offended by dirty words and candid talk of sexual deviancy I highly recommend you read this book (or just about anything else Bukowski has written) and get over your hang-ups. It's just a book!

This is the one that made me think Bukowski wasn't just another pretentious scruffy looking poet-writer. And the impression it made on me was inestimable. It was the same reaction I had when I read those other `notes' from that other 'sky, the man himself, Fyodor Dostoevsky.

It was a shock to know that there were other people in the world who had thoughts like mine... that life was mixed, nothing was cut and dried, muddled, beauty was touched with horror, love was tainted with hate and other passions that would sometimes lead to actual murder and that it wasn't that bull shown in the movies, society wasn't as rational and good as I was told, that there was always something awful under the surface of things, that God could be dead, that I was full of contradictions and instincts which had the power to overtake me -and perhaps the whole of humanity was afflicted with the same inconsistent nature, that there seem to be no meaning to life (with or without religion) and the universe was a blind absurdity, everything shocked me, and on and on... but in the center of all this was the fact that I was living, that I had the ability to feel and the power to say no.

The world seen through Bukowski's eyes is a terrible and beautiful place at the same time. The whores, the drinking binges, the alley fights and the insanity of the man of the streets is a life lived at its most direct and extreme. It is life uncluttered by the niceties and civilities of the numbed life most of us, under the confines of comfy blankets, PC's, cell phones, the latest fashions, million channel TV, etc., lead. It is a life I myself experienced for twenty five years, and at times it is still a preferable life to me than the desensitizing one I may live today. So in a sense Bukowski `celebrates' life and not wholly -wholly- leaves us a portrait of self destruction and nihilism. This is a POSSIBLE life, he seems to say to me, this is a life I've lived and lived it the way I wanted -at least the way I saw fit for a man in my position: ugly, poor, abused, disenfranchised. And I agree.

The first time I read Charles Bukowski it was in Spanish. The words still remain in my mind and once I got the opportunity to read him in English... I was speechless and shocked at how no one ever had dared using the English language like he has... How could you play with words so much and yet make them all fall in place so gracefully?. So crude, yet so insightful. Bukowski can express himself in terms of crap and intellect all in one paragraph. Any of this man's work is worth spending time on. =)

Hey Charley I'm pregnant
and living on 9th street
Above a dirty bookstore
Off Euclid avenue
I stopped taking dope
I quit drinking whiskey
My old man plays the trombone
And works out at the track

He says that he loves me
Even though its not his baby
He says that he'll raise him up
Like he would his own son
He gave me a ring
That was worn by his mother
And he takes me out dancin
Every saturday night

Hey Charley I think about you
Everytime I pass a fillin' station
On account of all the grease
You used to wear in your hair
I still have that record
Little Anthony and the Imperials
But someone stole my record player
How do you like that?

Hey Charley I almost went crazy
After mario got busted
I went back to Omaha
To live with my folks
Everyone I used to know
Is either dead or in prison
So I came back to Minneapolis
This time I think I'm gonna stay

Hey Charley I think I'm happy
The first time since my accident
Wish I had all the money
We used to spend on dope
I'd buy me a used car lot
I wouldn't sell any of 'em
I'd just drive a different car
Depending on how I feel

Hey Charley for chrissakes
Wanna to know the truth of it?
Don't have a husband
He don't play the trombone
Need to borrow money
To pay this lawyer
And Charley, hey
I'll be eligible for parole
Come valentines day

-Not that anyone would notice, but you sit in your dingy apartment reading this collection, the light coming from a single lamp with no shade, certain thoughts come to mind. You realize many, many things and come to an understanding and an appreciation of things that I think many people either never do, or either are in constant denial of. That's a constant theme with Buk, I think. Hell, I don't know and I'm dam* sure no deep-thinker about such things. But, the bottom line is that Buk, like Tom Waits, can never do wrong. Never. Ignore anyone that says otherwise or tries to come off with some, "Well, this isn't his greatest work..." or the...."this is inferior Buk." That's all absolute garbage and all of those individuals who make such statements - combined - could not produce in a lifetime, anything of such beauty that Buk produced in a day. Period.
Get this, treasure it, cherish it and you will understand.

This is the fourth Bukowski novel I have read after Women, Hollywood and Post Office. It is essentially a collection of vignettes written for the CITY PRESS which was an underground newspaper in the late 60's where Bukowski was given more or less carte blanche to indulge in and write about any subject/theme/fantasy/issue that turned him on. The book takes a while to get used to as the relative themes of the vignettes form somewhat of a jagged and haphazard thread from one to the next. However a weird pattern in respect of subject matter does eventually emerge. What totally surprised me was that Bukowski showed some excellent ability to analyse and understand contemporary american politics at the time in a realistic and honest way by discussing for example the clamp down on civil liberties by the government arising from say the historical milestone kennedy assasination. Bukowski never pities himself and some of the vignettes are poignantly sad but never self indulgent. I liked the fact that out of the misery and sadness of one short came the next one which was upbeat and the next one which was weird and then the next one which was comical. Bukowski no doubt loved booze, sex, horses and of course writing and this collection of shorts gives the reader the inside twisted track into the workings of a brilliant author's crazy and unique mind. Read it flat out on a lazy Sunday and soon you will be hitting that jack daniels, reaching for your shot-gun, checking into a shady motel and........well best I stop now and leave the rest up to you to discover. Unforgettable this book is, really it is.

Buk, to me, is at his best in the short story format. This collection in particular is a must for any Bukowski fans. These stories are examples of the Buk at his best, drinking, living and farting...

Charles Bukowski is not for the faint of heart but if you like your fiction on the straight up side you will enjoy this wild ride. I read this while a student at UCLA and I felt I had really uncovered something grand. He's like that dirty uncle you all avoid but secretly love. He's the antithesis of weak politically correct fiction which only serves to squeeze the juice from the gutsy tales like a dry sink sponge. Bukowski delivers the goods but good. When I wrote BAD GIRLS BURN SLOW, it was Bukowski who made me believe that I could push the envelope. Hail to the bard! His work is pure skin and bone. Read it and moan.

the only books I've read from Bukowski before this are "Ham on Rye" and "Love is a Dog from Hell".....but this book really is the most intense work of art that I've read in a good while.....I would consider it a Must-Own even though I have just started recently to read him and dont know if there is better ones out there or not...but it is an amazing insight to his own life, and freakin Hilarious......

This is the first Bukowski I have read and it was a lession in life. Bukowski has a way with words, telling it as it is. His sence of boldness and vulgarism is an eye opener. He writes his stories in a way that the reader can identify where he is comming from. His constant passion for the ultimate drunk and sexual conquest teaches you to respect the life of a druk. Charles Bukowski is a writer where you either hate him or love him, there can be no in between.